tfiFPI 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


porter 

g>cottt*l) 


HHHH 


gorfe 
,  Crotoell  Company 


THE 


SCOTTISH    CHIEFS 


BY 

MISS    JANE     PORTER 


REVISED     AND    CORRECTED 

WITH 

A  NEW   RETROSPECTIVE    INTRODUCTION,  NOTES,  ETC, 

BY    THE    AUTHOR 


VOL.  I. 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


CONTENTS 


VOL.    I. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION    .  \    .  P     .  v 

PREFACE.  TO  A  SUBSEQUENT  EDITION     .         .  viii 
RETROSPECTIVE  PREFACE  TO  THE  ILLUSTRATED 

EDITION         .         .         .         .         .  .    ;T  •.     .  xii 

I.     SCOTLAND          .        .        .        .        .  ,    •  <      .  1 

II.     LANARK ,   .V     .  12 

III.  ELLERSLIE ;  . .  ^     .  26 

IV.  CORIE  LYNN     .        .        .        .        .  ,   . "  /v  ^  37 
V.     LANARK  CASTLE       .        .        •        .  ,    .  {    v»  45 

VI.       C ARTLANE    CRAIGS      .            .            .            .  •  -,  „    ,  y  48 

VII.     BOTHWELL  CASTLE   .         .        .        .  ,   . *» ,     .  55 

VIII.     BOTHWELL  CHAPEL  .         .      'J'^'VJ   "^  '      ^        0  60 

IX.     BOTHWELL  DUNGEONS      .        .        .  .         .65 

X.     ST.  FILLAN'S     .        .        .        .        .  .        .  70 

XI.     THE  CHAPTER-HOUSE      .        .        .  ." ' '.   .  77 

XII.     DRUMSHARGARD        .        ,        ,        .  •        .  84 

XIII.  BANKS  OF  THE  CLYDE     .        .        ".  '   •     .   •  90 

XIV.  THE  PENTLAND  HILLS     .       V       .  .        .  99 
XV.     THE  HUT.        ....        .  .        .  103 

XVI.     THE  GLEN  OF  STONES      .        .        .  .        .  108 

XVII.     THE  HERMIT'S  CELL        .        .        .  .  .         .  117 

XVIII.       C  ARTLANE    CRAIGS    AND    GLENFINLASS  \  124 

XIX.     CRAIGNACOHEILG       .        .        .        .  »        .  135 

XX.     THE  CLIFFS  OF  LOCH  LUBNAIQ       .  .        .  140 

(iii) 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.  LOCH  LOMOND 145 

XXII.  DUMBARTON  ROCK 150 

XXIII.  THE  FORTRESS 155 

XXIV.  THE  GREAT  TOWER 164 

XXV.  THE  CITADEL 176 

XXVI.  RENFREWSHIRE 186 

XXVII.  THE  FIRTH  OF  CLYDE         ....  191 

XXVIII.  ISLE  OF  BUTE 200 

XXIX.  THE  BARNS  OF  AYR 209 

XXX.  THE  BARNS  OF  AYR.  —  (Continued)  .         .  219 

XXXI.  BERWICK  AND  THE  TWEED          .        .         .  221 

XXXII.  STIRLING 227 

XXXIII.  CAMBUS-KENNETH 242 

XXXIV.  STIRLING  CASTLE 250 

XXXV.  STIRLING  CITADEL 264 

XXXVI.  THE  CARSE  OF  STIRLING    ....  272 

XXXVII.  SNAWDOUN  PALACE 278 

XXXVIII.  THE  BOWER,  OR  LADIES'  APARTMENT        .  282 

XXXIX.  STIRLING  CASTLE  AND  COUNCIL-HALL       .  288 

XL.  THE  GOVERNOR'S  APARTMENTS  .        .        .  294 

XLI.  THE  STATE-PRISON 302 

XLII.  CHAPEL  IN  SNAWDOUN        ....  307 

XLIII.  THE  CARSE  OF  STIRLING  317 


LIST     OF    ILLUSTKATIONS. 


VOL.   I. 

PAGE 

STIRLING  CASTLE  FROM   BACK  WALK Frontispiece. 

WALLACE  MONUMENT,  ABBEY  CRAIG,  STIRLING Title. 

BEN  VENUE 11 

LOCH  KATRINE 61 

GLENFINLASS 124 

DUMBARTON  ROCK  AND  CASTLE 150 

BEN  LOMOND 164 

AULD  BRIG  o'DooN,  AYR 209 

CAMBUS-KENNETH 242 

STIRLING  CASTLE,  THE  PALACE 288 


VOL.   II. 

ALNWICK  CASTLE 8 

LOCH-AWE  AND  KlLCHURN  CASTLE 26 

FIRTH  OF  FORTH,  STIRLING  BRIDGE 58 

DURHAM  CASTLE , . . .  109 

ROSLYN  CHAPEL 208 

STIRLING  CASTLE,  MAR'S  WORK 226 

EDINBURGH  CASTLE 247 

CARLISLE  CASTLE  . .  341 


PREFACE   TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 

PUBLISHED   IN   1809. 


To  paint  the  portrait  of  one  of  the  most  complete  heroes 
that  ever  filled  the  page  of  history  may  be  a  bold,  though  I 
hope  not  a  vain,  design.  The  contemplation  of  virtue  is  an 
improving  as  well  as  a  delightful  employment  j  and  however 
inadequate  this  picture  may  be  to  represent  its  original, — 
William  Wallace  of.  Scotland,  —  yet  that  it  is  a  copy  of  such 
excellence  will  be  merit  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  so  love  vir- 
tue as  to  venerate  its  shade. 

I  have  spared  no  pains  in  consulting  almost  every  writing 
extant  which  treats  of  the  sister  kingdoms  during  the  period 
of  my  narrative.  It  would  be  tedious  to  swell  this  page  with 
a  list  of  these  authorities  ;  but  all  who  are  intimate  with  our 
old  British  historians  must  perceive  on  reading  the  Scottish 
Chiefs  that  in  the  sketch  which  history  would  have  laid  down 
for  the  biography  of  my  principal  hero  I  have  made  no  addi- 
tion, excepting  where,  time  having  made  some  erasure,  a 
stroke  was  necessary  to  fill  the  space  and  unite  the  outline. 
Tradition  has  been  a  great  assistance  to  me  in  this  respect. 
And  for  much  valuable  information  on  the  subject  I  am  in- 
debted to  the  bard  of  Hope,  my  friend  Mr.  Thomas  Campbell ; 
he  who  has  so  nobly  mingled  the  poet's  bays  with  the  laurels 
of  his  clan. 

While  tracing  the  characters  of  my  personages  in  the  Scot- 
tish annals,  it  was  with  infinite  pleasure  I  recognized  those 
virtues  in  the  fathers  which  had  attached  me  to  their  poster- 
ity. Delighted  with  this  most  dear  proof  of  kindred,  I  have 
fondly  lingered  over  my  work,  reenjoying,  in  its  visionary 
scenes,  hours  fled  to  heaven.  I  have  again  discoursed,  and 
mingled  my  soul,  with  friends  whose  nobility  of  spirit  honored 
the  illustrious  stems  from  which  they  sprung ;  but,  like  the 


yi  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

blossomed  bough  torn  from  its  branch,  they  are  gone,  and 
spread  fragrance  in  my  path  no  more. 

It  is  now  too  common  to  contemn  as  nonsense  even  an  hon- 
est pride  in  ancestry.  But  where  is  the  Englishman  who  is 
not  proud  of  being  the  countryman  of  Nelson?  Where  the 
British  sailor  that  does  not  thirst  to  emulate  his  fame  ? 
Where  the  worthy  citizen  who  does  not  respect  himself  in  the 
honorable  memories  of  William  Walworth  and  Sir  Thomas 
Gresham  ? 

If  this  sentiment  be  right,  respect  for  noble  progenitors  can- 
not be  wrong,  for  it  proceeds  from  the  same  source  —  the 
principle  of  kindred,  of  inhe'ritance,  and  of  virtue.  Let  the 
race  of  Douglas,  or  the  brave  line  of  the  Percy,  bear  witness 
whether  the  name  they  hold  be  not  as  a  mirror  to  show 
them  what  they  ought  to  be,  and  to  kindle  in  their  hearts  the 
flame  which  burnt  in  their  fathers.  Happy  it  is  for  this  realm 
that  the  destiny  which  now  unites  the  once  contending  arms 
of  those  brave  families  has  also  consolidated  their  rival  nations 
into  one,  and  by  planting  the  heir  of  Plantagenet  and  of  Bruce 
upon  one  throne  hath  redeemed  the  peace  of  Britain,  and  fixed 
it  on  lasting  foundations. 

From  the  nature  of  my  story,  more  agents  have  been  used  in 
its  conduct  than  I  should  have  adopted  had  it  been  a  work  of 
mere  imagination.  But  very  few  persons  wholly  imaginary 
have  been  introduced  ;  and,  wishing  to  keep  as  near  historical 
truth  as  could  be  consistent  with  my  plan,  no  intentional  injus- 
tice has  been  committed  against  the  characters  of  the  individu- 
als who  were  real  actors  with  the  chief  hero  of  the  tale.  The 
melancholy  circumstance  which  first  excited  him  to  draw  his 
sword  for  Scotland,  though  it  may  be  thought  too  much  like 
the  creation  of  modern  romance,  is  recorded  as  a  fact  in  the 
old  poem  of  Blind  Harrie.  Other  private  events  have  been 
interwoven  with  the  public  subjects  of  these  volumes,  that  the 
monotony  of  a  continued  series  of  warlike  achievements  might 
in  some  measure  be  lessened.  Some  notes  are  added,  to  con- 
firm the  historical  incidents ;  but  finding  that  were  they  all 
marked,  such  a  plan  would  swell  each  volume  beyond  its 
proper  size,  in  one  word  I  assure  the  reader  that  I  seldom 
lead  him  to  any  spot  in  Scotland  whither  some  written  or  oral 
testimony  respecting  my  hero  had  not  previously  conducted 
myself.  In  the  same  spirit,  being  careful  to  keep  to  the  line 
of  chronology,  I  have  not  strayed  from  it  in  any  instance,  until 
my  chief  personages  return'from  France  ;  and  then,  my  history 
being  intended  to  be  within  the  bounds  of  modern  romance, 


PREFACE    TO    THE    FIRST   EDITION.  vii 

rather  than  measured  by  the  folios  of  Scudery,  I  found 
myself  obliged  to  take  some  liberties  with  time  and  circum- 
stance ;  for  both  of  which  offences,  and  particularly  for  the 
management  of  my  catastrophe,  I  hope  the  historical,  if  he  be 
also  a  gentle  reader,  will  find  no  difficulty  in  forgiving  me. 

THAMES  DITTON. 


PREFACE   TO   A   SUBSEQUENT  EDITION. 

ADDED   IN  THE  YEAR   1828. 


IN  dismissing  this  edition  'of  the  Scottish  Chiefs  from  the 
press,  after  so  many  of  its  predecessors,  its  author  will  not  deny 
herself  tlie  genuine  pleasure  of  expressing  her  grateful  sense 
of  the  candor  with  which  so  adventurous  a  work  from  a 
female  pen  has  been  generally  received.  That  among  these 
liberal  approvers  are  the  people  of  her  hero's  nation  —  the 
country  in  which  she  first  drew  the  aliments  of  her  intellect- 
ual life  —  cannot  but  afford  a  peculiar  gratification  to  her 
heart ;  and  she  expresses  her  delight  on  this  occasion  with 
the  feelings  of  a  child  rejoicing  in  the  approbation  of  indul- 
gent parents  !  —  for  England,  the  land  of  her  birth,  has  not 
been  less  kind  in  its  reception. 

While  thus  fondly  recording  the  favorable  sentiments  of 
her  own  country,  she  has  the  satisfaction  of  adding  similar 
suffrages  from  foreign  lands;  while,  indeed,  the  immediate 
result  from  such  an  approval  in  one  of  those  lands  was  quite 
unexpected  by  her,  giving  her  the  honor  of  sharing  the  dis- 
tinction of  a  literary  banishment  along  with  the  great  name 
of  Madame  de  Stael.  The  Scottish  Chiefs  was  translated  into 
the  languages  of  the  Continent.  She  received  from  Vienna, 
Berlin,  Wirtemberg,  Petersburg,  and  Moscow,  and  even  far- 
distant  India,  letters  of  generous  criticism  from  persons  of  the 
highest  names  in  rank  and  literature.  But  when  the  work 
was  ready  for  publication  in  France,  it  was  denounced  by  the 
order  of  Napoleon  as  dangerous  to  the  State,  and  commanded 
to  be  withheld  or  destroyed. 

The  widow  of  the  brave  and  unfortunate  General  Moreau 
was  the  first  that  mentioned  this  prohibition  to  the  writer. 
There  are  many  interesting  events  connected  in  the  author's 
mind  with  that  communication.  It  was  made  to  her  in  the 
morning  of  a  most  remarkable  day,  for  a  very  few  hours  after 
Madame  Moreau  had  been  talking  with  her,  and  the  young  and 
lovely  widow's  full  heart  had  drawn  a  sad  parallel  between 

Cviii) 


PREFACE    TO   A    SUBSEQUENT  EDITION.         he 

her  own  lost  hero  and  those  commemorated  by  her  friend,  the 
author  saw  her  on  the  platform  of  the  balcony  of  the  Pulteney 
Hotel,  to  witness,  along  with  the  Imperial  Family  of  Russia, 
then  resident  there,  the  public  entry  into  London  of  Louis 
XVIII.  on  his  restoration  as  King  of  France.  The  writer  of 
this  recollection,  though  she  had  not  the  honor  of  being  on  the 
same  balcony,  was  so  situated  as  to  be  able  to  observe  all  that 
passed  there.  The  Grand  Duchess  Catharine  of  Eussia  and 
the  Princess  Charlotte  of  England  stood  together,  after  hav- 
ing embraced  each  other  on  their  meeting,  amidst  the  welcom- 
ing shouts  of  the  throng  of  people  in  the  street.  Both  were 
simply  but  elegantly  dressed ;  both  were  in  the  bloom  of  youth 
and  full  of  joyous  gayety.  Near  them  stood  another  Russian 
princess,  also  in  the  summer  of  her  life  and  equally  animated. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  the  balcony  sat  our  true  British  Prin- 
cess, Elizabeth,  looking  all  kind-hearted,  gladsomeness  for  the 
happy  pageant  about  to  pass.  The  Duke  of  Oldenberg,  a 
pretty  child,  the  son  of  the  young  Grand  Duchess,  was  on  her 
Royal  Highness's  knee.  Madame  Moreau,  in  her  deep  widow's 
weeds,  stood  not  far  from  her,  leaning  against  the  balustrade. 
When  the  procession  came  forward  and  the  open  carriage 
which  contained  Louis  stopped  an  instant  under  the  balcony 
to  receive  the  gratulations  of  the  imperial  and  royal  party 
above,  all  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  the  Grand  Duchess  and 
the  Princess  Charlotte  kissing  their  hands  to  the  gratefully 
bowing  head  of  the  Duchess  d'Angouleme,  whose  pale  cheek 
and  emaciated  form  bore  too  evident  marks  of  her  trying  des- 
tiny up  to  that  hour.  She  smiled  —  all  smiled,  excepting  the 
recently  desolated  widow  of  Moreau,  and  she  indeed  leaned 
over  the  railing  toward  the  carriage  and  waved  her  white 
handkerchief  too,  but  the  writer  of  this  saw  the  heavy  tears 
rolling  down  her  cheeks  in  actual  showers  and  fall  upon  the 
top  of  the  balustrade  in  large  drops,  leaving  it  wet  with  them. 
But  a  sadder  memorial  hangs  over  that  scene.  In  the  course 
of  a  very  few  years  afterwards,  not  one  of  those  young  and 
blooming  persons,  royal  and  noble,  who  stood  there,  the  hope 
and  admiration  of  many  loyal  and  attached  hearts,  were  exist- 
ing on  this  earth!  The  Grand  Duchess  Catharine  died  at 
Wirtemberg,  then  its  queen ;  the  other  Russian  princess  fol- 
lowed the  same  early  call  at  St.  Petersburg.1  Madame 
Moreau  closed  her  widowed  sorrows  at  Paris ;  and  our  own 
Princess  Charlotte  —  all  England  knows  how  it  lost  her. 
Even  the  boy  Duke  of  Oldenberg  is  no  more.  And  the  sole 

i  She  was  the  beloved  wife  of  the  author's  brother,  Sir  R.  K.  Porter. 


X  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

remaining  one  who  looked  in  that  extraordinary  moment  from 
that  balcony,  filled  with  youth  and  beauty  and  tenderly  beat- 
ing hearts,  is  our  Princess  Elizabeth,  the  most  senior  of  them 
all,  who,  after  becoming  the  Landgravine  of  Hesse  Homberg, 
has  herself  returned  a  widow  to  her  country,  which  is  indeed 
happy  to  receive  back  the  honored  mourner.  But  the  awful 
events  ended  not  there ;  the  royal  object  of  that  great  day's 
pageant  is  himself  gone  to  another  world ;  and  the  Duchess 
d'Angouleme,  again  driven  from  the  throne  of  her  ancestors, 
has  once  more  become  a  hopeless  exile !  Thus  then  it  is 
proved  that  death  and  sorrow  know  no  respect  of  persons.1 

Madame  Moreau's  information  had  gone  further  to  me  than 
communicating  the  interdiction  of  this  work  by  the  Emperor 
Napoleon.  She  told  me  of  its  immediate  publication  in  Paris 
on  the  recall  of  the  Bourbons,  and  soon  after  receiving  a  copy 
from  Prance,  I  found  the  translator's  account  of  the  prohibi- 
tion in  his  preface. 

It  seems  hardly  credible  that  the  same  victor  who,  when  ne 
came  forward  (with  pretensions  at  least)  to  redeem  Poland  to 
independence,  quoted  the  words  of  her  hero  Sobieski,  by  way 
of  a  noble  excitement,  should,  not  many  years  afterwards,  put 
an  interdict  on  the  very  same  sentiments,  when  expressed  by 
the  Scottish  Chiefs,  in  his  own  empire  of  France.  But  the 
difference  in  his  language  may  be  read  in  his  relative  circum- 
stances. He  wished,  as  a  pretended  umpire  and  benefactor, 
to  impose  his  lasting  sceptre  on  the  one  people ;  and  to  hold 
in  unreflecting  subjection  the  other.  We  know  that  with 
conquerors,  who  usually  fight  for  power  rather  than  justice, 
the  use  of  certain  sentiments  springs  more  from  expediency 
than  principle.  Eeal  principle  is  proved  in  the  result ;  —  a 
true  patriot  establishes  the  liberty  of  his  country  without  in- 
fringing on  the  rights  of  others ;  a  pretender  first  founds  a 
despotic  empire  over  his  own  countrymen,  and  then  leads 
them  to  put  similar  chains  on  their  neighbors. 

To  draw  the  line  between  such  characters,  to  place  high  chi- 
valric  loyalty  and  the  spirit  of  patriotic  freedom  on  just  prin- 
ciples, whether  in  the  breast  of  prince  or  peasant,  the  writer  of 
this  tale  has  studied  the  page  of  many  a  history,  has  studied 
the  lesson  in  many  a  noble  heart.  With  humility  as  to  the 
execution  of  her  task,  but  with  due  confidence  in  its  matter 
and  object,  she  proceeded  from  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  to  The 
Scottish  Chiefs.  And  so  would  do  henceforward,  on  whatever 
ground  she  might  take  her  stand  to  labor  in  the  cause. 

1  Since  this  postscript  was  written,  the  Landgravine,  our  ever-honored  Princess  Eliz> 
abeth,  has  been  laid  in  a  foreign  grave. 


PREFACE    TO   A    SUBSEQUENT   EDITION.          xi 

Sir  Philip  Sidney,  a  true  hero  of  her  own  country,  early 
gave  her  this  text,  "  Let  who  may  make  the  laws  of  a  people, 
allow  me  to  write  their  ballads  and  I  '11  guide  them  at  my 
will !  "  What  ballads  were  to  the  sixteenth  century,  romances 
are  to  ours  ;  the  constant  companions  of  young  people's  leisure 
hours  ;  biasing  them  to  virtue,  or  misleading  them  to  vice. 
And  to  inspire  the  most  susceptible  period  of  man's  existence, 
his  youth,  with  the  principles  which  are  to  be  his  future  staff, 
and  their  effects  his  "exceeding  great  reward,"  is  the  motive 
of  my  pen.  Hence,  in  proportion  to  the  great  view  of  the  aim 
must  be  the  satisfaction  derived,  when  the  approbation  of  the 
wise  and  of  the  good  has  pronounced  the  attempt  not  un- 
worthy its  intention. 

J.  P. 

ESHER. 


RETROSPECTIVE  PREFACE 

TO  THE 

ILLUSTRATED  EDITION. 

1840. 


THIRTY  years  have  passed  away  since  the  first  edition  of 
this  work  was  published.  And  now  that  its  probable  last  edi- 
tion is  called  for,  to  be  given  to  the  public  in  an  embellished 
form  with  views  of  its  principal  scenes,  the  author  is  requested 
by  her  new  publisher,  and  several  of  the  still  surviving  hon- 
ored critics  of  her  youth,  to  add  an  account,  a  little  more  cir- 
cumstantial than  her  preceding  prefaces  set  forth,  of  the 
"  where  and  when  "  she  first  imbibed  the  impulse  which  ulti- 
mately impelled  her  to  choose  a  theme  so  unusual  to  a  female 
pen  —  a  theme  of  war  and  bloodshed  ! 

What  can  she  say  now  in  fairer  excuse  for  such  a  choice 
than  the  explanation  her  former  editions  contained  ?  It  was 
a  war  of  defence.  It  is  a  tale  of  facts,  not  of  invention ;  of 
men  true  to  themselves,  to  the  laws  and  rightful  independence 
of  their  country.  Such  subjects  are  consecrated  to  a  purpose 
beyond  the  time  of  their  action ;  they  are  so  commissioned  to 
every  faithful  bosom  born  in  the  land  in  which  they  took  their 
rise ;  and  if  its  present  race  of  men  and  women  (in  subjection 
to  the  modern  taste  for  casting  oblivion  on  all  recollections  of 
ancestry)  were  to  cease  to  speak  or  to  write  of  them,  there 
are  memorials,  thanks  to  former  honest  pens,  which  could  not 
be  silenced. 

Records  of  justly  respected  ancestors  exist  in  many  old  li- 
braries, and  must  be  found  by  the  exploring  eyes  of  intelligent 
youth,  who,  smitten  by  those  worthy  exemplars,  whether  of 
Falkirk,  Runnimede,  or  hereafter  of  our  own  glorious  field  of 
Waterloo,  would  emulously  seeking  further  information  regard- 
ing such  honorable  progenitors,  literally  fulfil  the  sacred 
promise  to  true  virtue,  "  Out  of  the  mouths  of  the  tender  of 
age  shall  be  perfected  praise."  And  again,  were  such  registers 

(xii) 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xiii 

expunged,  we  have  only  to  look  to  our  cathedral  shrines,  or 
into  our  humble  churchyards,  where  the  monumental  stones 
which  the  grateful  hands  of  preceding  generations  reared  over 
fche  great  departed  still  remain,  to  hear  them  cry  aloud, 
"  Forget  us  not !  "  For  let  us  remember  that  when  a  nation 
ceases  to  recollect  the  great  and  the  good  amongst  their  own 
forefathers,  they  soon  cease  to  be  a  people  of  much  account  at 
home  ;  and  in  proportion  to  that  internal  decline  they  sink  in 
the  estimation  of  the  nations  abroad. 

This  is  my  apology  for  having  made  a  tale  of  long-inherited 
patriotism  and  loyalty  my  theme.  "  Fear  God  and  honor  the 
king ! "  was  the  inspiring  principle 

"  Of  the  Scots  wha  oft  wi'  Wallace  bled! 
Of  the  Scots  wha'  Bruce  had  often  led, 
To  freedom,  death,  or  victory !  " 

and  being  invited  to  the  task  of  making  such  an  explanation,  I 
trust  I  may  now  proceed,  without  any  charge  of  "offensive 
egotism,"  to  tell  my  inquirers  where  and  how  these  warlike 
memories  were  first  unfolded  to  me,  and  afterwards  wrought 
into  that  enthusiasm  which  longed  to  wrap  all  others  in  the 
same  mantle  of  delightful  truths  which  had  been  the  gathered 
jewelry  of  my  youth. 

Born  on  the  borderland  of  Scotland,  my  revered  mother, 
then  in  her  early  widowhood,  took  her  three  youngest  children 
to  Edinburgh,  to  bring  us  up  in  a  strengthening  air ;  and  for 
the  benefit  of  a  good  education  at  a  moderate  expense,  which 
suited  the  circumstances  of  a  young  and  lovely  widow  of 
retired  habits,  whose  husband  had  been  in  the  army,  and 
moreover  a  younger  brother,  both  cases  seldom  being  amply 
endowed  with  riches.  But  he  had  set  her  a  pattern  of  noble 
independence  from  their  luxuries  ;  and  to  the  bosom  of  her 
family  she  confined  all  her  wishes.  Her  elder  son  she  left  at 
school  in  England  under  charge  of  our  grandfather,  who  had 
placed  him  there. 

We  were  almost  infants  when  we  arrived  in  Scotland  and 
commenced  our  regular  little  studies  ;  but  in  those  times  of 
simplicity,  it  was  not  the  pastors  and  masters  only  who  sowed 
seeds  of  information  in  the  young  mind. 

I  was  hardly  six  years  old  when  I  first  heard  the  names  of 
William  Wallace  and  Robert  Bruce,  and  not  from  teachers  of 
history,  but  from  the  maids  in  the  nursery  and  the  serving-man 
in  the  hall.  The  one  party  had  the  songs  of  "  Wallace  Wight ! " 
to  lull  my  baby-sister  to  sleep  ;  the  other  his  tales  of  Bannock- 


XIV  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

burn  and  Cambuskenneth,  to  entertain  my  young  brother,  keep 
ing  his  eager  attention  awake  evening  after  evening,  often 
beyond  his  usual  hour  of  rest,  and  then  while  asking  gude  Jock 
for  "  Mair,  mair  ! "  sending  him  to  bed  to  see  those  heroes  in 
his  childhood's  dreams,  which  in  after  years  his  youth's  pencil 
depicted  on  canvas  fields,  in  all  the  reflected  glory  of  their 
heroic  deeds. 

But  my  chief  instructress  in  these  legends  was  an  old  woman 
who  lived  in  a  humble  but  comfortable  little  abode  near  some 
beautiful  green  banks  which  rose  in  natural  terraces  behind  my 
mother's  house,  and  where  a  cow  and  a  few  sheep  occasionally 
fed.1  There  I  often  met  this  venerable  dame,  and  while  I  pur- 
sued the  usual  errand  that  brought  me  —  gathering  gowans  or 
other  grass-flowers  for  my  infant  sister — my  aged  companion, 
with  her  knitting  in  her  hand,  would  remark  on  the  blessed 
quiet  of  the  land  where  we  saw  cattle  browsing,  without  fear 
of  an  enemy ;  and  then  would  talk  to  me  of  the  "  awful  times 
of  the  brave  Sir  William  Wallace,"  when  he  fought  for  Scot- 
land "  against  a  cruel  tyrant,  like  unto  them  Abraham  over- 
came, when  he  recovered  Lot,  with  all  his  herds  and  flocks, 
from  the  proud  foray  of  the  five  robber-kings  of  the  south, 
who  (she  added)  were  all  rightly  punished  for  oppressing  the 
stranger  in  a  foreign  land  !  The  Lord  careth  for  the  stranger  !  " 

She  never  omitted  mingling  a  pious  allusion  with  her  nar- 
ratives, whether  of  facts  or  fictions,  of  human  varieties  or 
fairy  fables,  and  from  this  custom  I  always  listened  to  her 
with  reverence  as  well  as  delight ;  yet  she  was  a  person  of 
low  degree,  dressed  in  a  coarse  woollen  gown  and  a  plain  linen 
cap,  without  frill  or  ribbon,  called  a  mutch,  clasped  under  the 
chin  with  a  silver  brooch,  worn  by  her  father  at  the  battle  of 
Culloden. 

So  powerful  is  the  effect  of  a  superior  spirit,  even  within  the 
humblest  exterior,  making  her  withered  form  transparent  of 
its  inward  excellence.  Such  was  "  Luckie  Forbes,"  and  I  must 
avow  that  while  learning  my  school  lessons  of  general  history 
from  higher  hands,  to  this  respected  old  woman's  endearing 
and  often  eloquent  manner  of  relating  the  adventures  of  the 
Scottish  chief,  I  owe  my  early  admiration  for  his  character. 
Her  representation  of  his  heart-rending  sacrifices  for  the  good 
of  his  country  called  forth  my  tears  and  sobs,  and  when  she 
told  of  his  brave  companions'  sufferings,  and  of  his  own  event- 
ual barbarous  execution  by  the  tyrant  he  had  opposed,  my 

ilt  stood  alone,  at  the  head  of  a  little  square,  near  the  High  School.  The  distinguished 
Lord  Elchies  formerly  lived  in  that  houso,  which  was  very  ancient;  and  from  those  green 
banks  it  commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  Frith  of  Forth. 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  XV 

grief  was  raised  to  its  climax,  and  bewailing  him,  as  I  had 
but  too  recently  done  my  own  gallant  father,  I  ceased  not 
during  my  whole  future  life  to  remember,  with  something 
like  a  kindred  sympathy,  himself  and  the  dauntless  friends 
who  had  followed  him  to  honor  or  the  grave. 

From  this  little  reminiscence,  it  might  have  been  expected 
that  should  I  ever  in  maturer  years  have  felt  inclined  to  note 
such  impressions,  the  story  of  Sir  William  Wallace  would 
have  been  my  first  selection.  But  for  long,  long  after  I  heard 
these  things,  I  never  thought  of  becoming  a  writer  at  all.  To 
learn  was  my  sole  ambition,  and  during  the  knowledge-seeking 
season  usual  with  youth,  my  time,  in  conjunction  with  that  of 
my  dear  brother  and  sister,  was  almost  wholly  spent  in  read- 
ing ;  the  works  of  ancient  and  modern  authors  burying  us,  as 
it  were,  often  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  in  a  total  abstraction 
from  everything  else.  History  and  biography  from  the  Sacred 
Scriptures  to  Plutarch's  Lives,  from  the  black-letter  Chronicles 
of  England  to  Rapin  and  David  Hume,  and  all  poetry  con- 
nected with  the  events  they  told  of,  from  Greece's  Homer  to 
our  British  Shakespeare,  from  the  ballad  of  "  Chevy  Chase"  to 
that  of  our  soul-stirring  "Rule  Britannia,"  —  this  was  the  food 
with  which  we  loved  to  nourish  the  favorite  meditations  of 
our  minds ;  bringing  to  our  hearts  the  characters  which  our 
mother,  our  earliest  instructress,  had  taught  us  to  consider 
"  the  excellent  of  the  earth,"  and  with  whom  we  ever  after- 
wards aspired  "  to  dwell." 

To  such  objects  alone,  and  to  their  corresponding  emulations, 
did  she  direct  our  admirations  and  affections.  She  could  not 
bequeath  to  her  children  "  gold  nor  silver,"  but  what  she  had 
richly  in  herself  she  strove  to  bestow  on  us  —  independence 
from  what  are  called  the  usual  ambitions  or  pleasures  of  life. 
And  when  circumstances  caused  her  to  fix  her  abode  in  Lon- 
don, we  continued  the  same  absorbing  and  sequestering  pur- 
suits, but  with  some  other  studies  united  with  them,  awakened 
by  our  near  approximation  to  the  arts  of  painting  and  sculpt- 
ure. The  names  of  Benjamin  West,  Flaxman,  Northcote,  and 
Martin  Archer  Shee  were  alike  honored,  and  dear  to  our  even- 
ing hearth ;  for  such  persons  (and  others,  veterans  in  fame, 
naval  and  military,  whose  esteem  she  had  shared  during  my 
father's  lifetime  and  preserved  since  his  death)  made  no  in- 
road on  the  simplicity  of  her  little  homestead,  and  with  this 
chosen  few  we  young  people  welcomed  "  living  models  "  of 
the  "  excellency  in  talents  and  in  virtues  "  which  our  books 
had  daily  drawn  pictures  of  in  our  closets. 


xvi  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

But  these  visitors  in  their  turn  brought  new  informations  to 
our  notice  —  the  existing  momentous  events  of  the  world  then 
passing  around  us.  The  horrible  insurrectionary  revolution 
of  France  had  hardly  subsided ;  its  dethroned  sovereign  and 
nobles,  overwhelmed  by  infuriated  mobs  calling  themselves 
the  people,  had  bled  on  the  scaffold  or  become  fugitives  on  the 
face  of  the  earth ;  while  the  chivalric  kingdom  of  Poland  on 
the  other  hand  was  "swept  from  the  map  of  nations"  by  a 
conspiracy  of  foreign  princes,  and  her  brave  sons  also  made 
wanderers  into  many  lands.  England  was  one  of  these  places 
of  general  refuge  for  both  orders  of  these  exiles. 

It  was  at  that  time  we  came  first  to  London.  Our  animated 
sympathies  were  soon  aroused  by  narratives  so  similar  to 
those  which  had  excited  the  pitying  tears  of  our  childhood, 
and  it  was  then  I  first  felt  the  impulse  to  preserve  some  of 
the  affecting  accounts  I  had  listened  to,  by  writing  them  down 
in  the  form  of  a  regular  story.  In  short,  I  yearned  to  pour 
out  my  veneration  and  my  compassion  for  the  virtues  and  the 
sufferings  of  the  people  whose  ancestors  had  followed  John 
Sobieski,  scarcely  more  than  a  century  before,  to  the  rescue  of 
Christendom  from  the  pending  Mahometan  yoke.  My  brother 
too  had  seen  and  become  acquainted  with  Kosciusko,  in  his 
way  to  the  United  States,  after  his  honorable  liberation  from 
prison  by  the  emperor  of  Eussia,  successor  to  her  who  had 
cast  him  there.  It  was  then  that  the  little  tale  of  "Thaddeus 
of  Warsaw  "  became  the  first-fruits  of  my  pen. 

It  was  composed  in  a  society  congenial  to  its  spirit,  for  the 
fields  of  Alexandria  and  of  Acre  had  just  sent  home  their 
heroes,  and  the  "  chiefs  "  of  them,  with  their  happy  wives, 
sisters,  or  daughters,  were  often  at  the  unpretending  tea-table 
of  my  mother.1  I  did  not,  however,  write  my  little  legend 
with  a  thought  beyond  our  home  circle  ;  but  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, Mr.  Owen  Bees  (a  partner  with  Messrs.  Longman,  of 
Paternoster  Row),  to  whom  my  mother  showed  the  manuscript, 
earnestly  recommended  its  publication,  and  proposed  his 
friendly  house  as  the  medium.  She  and  my  sister  had  been 
much  pleased  with  the  story.  To  no  other  eyes  save  one  had 
I  ever  shown  it,  and  that  eye  had  pronounced  it  "  beneath  my 

1  In  this  bright  little  circle  were  also  the  revered  female  names  of  Mrs.  Hannah 
More,  Mrs.  Barbauld,  the  late  Lady  de  Crespigny  (of  literary  and  beneficent  memory), 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  authoress  of  "  Modern  Philosophers  "  (the  fine  principle  and  wit  of  which 
work  so  put  those  vain  and  mischievous  workers  to  the  rout  in  England  that  our  then 
venerable  sovereign  George  III.  distinguished  her  with  a  particular  mark  of  the  royal 
favor).  We  had  likewise  her  nobly  talented  friend  Miss  Benger,  the  charming  historian 
of  Anne  Bullen  and  Mary  Queen  of  Scots ;  and  Miss  Knight,  preceptress  to  the  Princess 
Charlotte.  All  these  have  long  been  removed  to  a  better  Elysium  than  "  Poets'  dreams 
have  told!" 


RETROSPECTIVE   PREFACE.  xvii 

powers "  !  But  being  thus  doubly  authorized  by  the  judg- 
ments I  most  loved,  and  that  of  an  experienced  critic,  "  to  think 
no  shame  of  it,"  I  assented  to  their  united  wish,  and  my  first 
step  of  authorship  was  made  in  the  world. 

I  inscribed  it  to  one  of  our  frequent  guests,  the  Occur  de 
Lion  of  our  land  and  times  in  those  days,  and  whose  name  I 
thought  would  be  a  parole  to  my  tale  of  war.1  Within  a  year 
or  two  after  its  publication  my  brother  went  to  the  north  of 
Europe,  and  our  occupation  in  the  great  capital  "  being  gone  " 
when  he  had  left  it.  our  careful  parent  took  the  opportunity  to 
remove  from  our  enlarging  acquaintance,  which,  in  spite  of  all 
her  restraining  efforts,  might  ,have  increased  to  a  dangerously 
brilliant  circle,  too  dazzling  to  the  young  and  ardent  minds  she 
had  ever  prayed  to  preserve  from  the  world's  influence.  In 
the  quiet  country  residence  she  had  selected  we  found  at  first 
but  few  acquaintances,  and  recollections  of  the  recent  and  long- 
gone  past  were  by  turns  our  most  pleasant  amusement.  Those 
of  dear  Scotland  often  presented  themselves.  We  talked  of 
our  walks  on  the  Calton-hill,  then  a  vast  green  slope  with  no 
other  buildings  breaking  the  line  of  its  smooth  and  magnificent 
brow  but  Hume's  monument  on  one  part  and  the  astronomical 
observatory  on  another.  Then  of  our  climbing  the  steeps  and 
heights  or  Arthur's-seat,  and  our  awed  visits  to  Saint  Antony's 
Well !  all  haunted  by  the  shadowy  forms  of  William  Wallace 
and  his  brother  heroes. 

But  where  we  were  now  sited  was  also  food  for  pleasant 
thoughts.  We  had  changed  our  abode  from  London  to  a  part 
of  Survey  fraught  with  historical  memories  and  classic  asso- 
ciations —  the  southern  banks  of  the  Thames,  amidst  a  beauti- 
tully  wooded  country,  in  which  we  could  command  the  most 
retired  solitudes  ;  or  on  crossing  the  river  to  Hampton  Court 
^to  which  a  little  boat  might  convey  us  in  ten  minutes),  under 
tiie  cloistered  colonnades  and  on  the  parterre  terraces  of  that 

1  Alas !  while  these  pages  were  yet  in  the  press,  this  hero  of  British  hearts,  Sir  Sidney 
Smith,  died  in  France.  He  lies  unraonumented  but  by  the  halo  of  "his  glory,"  in  the 
cemetery  of  Pere  la  Chaise.  And  there  three  French  officers  of  rank  pronounced  eulo- 
g iums  over  his  grave.  England !  is  France  to  continue  to  hold  the  precious  remains  of 
such  a  son  of  thine?  But  if  it  be  that  the  gallant  tree  is  to  lie  where  it  fell,  is  no  ceno- 
taph to  be  raised  in  Westminster  Abbey  or  tit.  Paul's,  to  the  memory  of  him  who  first 
showed  to  the  world  that  the  conquering  sword  of  Napoleon  was  not  invincible?  —  to  a 
memory  which  united  the  mildest  virtues  with  the  warrior's  enterprise,  and  made  all  men 
his  friends  who  were  not  his  country's  enemies  ;  and  even  some  of  those  enemies  when 
war  had  ceased,  won  by  his  generous  social  graces,  loved  him  in  life,  and,  as  in  now  seen, 
have  in  death  given  him  an  honored  grave.  Shall  his  own  countrymen  do  less  than  they? 
No  ;  let  us  trust  in  the  gratitude  and  noble  pride  of  England  that  a  commemorative  stone 
to  Sir  Sidney  Smith  will  ere  long  be  found  by  the  side  of  Nelson's  tomb  in  St.  Paul's  ; 
tind  not  far,  perhaps,  from  the  sacred  dust  of  his  gallant  progenitor  in  blood  and  name, 
Bir  Philip  Sidney,  whose  venerated  corpse  was  brought  from  a  foreign  land  "  to  sleep 
with  his  people,  '  for  whose  rest  and  safety,  like  our  now  lamented  Sidney,  he  had  so 
often  fought  and  bled. 
VOL.  I.  — a 


xviii  THE   SCOTTISH   CHIEFS. 

ever-cheerful  old  palace,  we  could  mix  in  pensive  recollections 
with  the  illustrious  dead,  its  former  inhabitants  ;  or  in  gay  con- 
verse with  the  smiling  living  who  then  sojourned  within  or 
nigh  its  royal  walls ;  for  our  little  band  of  friends  of  Thames 
Ditton  had  introduced  some  of  these  our  amiable  opposite 
neighbors  to  us,  and  they  oftener  walked  to  our  hedge-row 
cottage  than  we  to  their  palace  lawns.  Indeed,  it  is  observable 
that  persons  most  used  to  splendor  and  pomp  enjoy  with  the 
greatest  zest  scenes  of  simplicity  and  quiet ;  and  such  were 
some  of  our  visitors. 

Thus  time  went  on.  And  in  that  now  fondly  regretted  little 
abode  we  had  resided  two  or  three  years,  realizing  Shenstone's 
sweet  picture  of  "  the  lone  cottage  in  the  vale : " 

"  Lowly,  in  deepest  glen  and  woodland  shade, 
Some  rustic  hand  the  humble  portal  made ! 
The  woodbine  gayly  crept  our  casements  round ; 
Within,  Contentment  was  the  hostess  found, 
Who  spread  with  rushes  the  neat  sylvan  floor, 
And  decked  with  garlands  fair  the  jasmined  arching  door!  " 

When  thus  surrounded  by  peace  at  home  and  pleasantness  in 
all  our  daily  outward  paths,  certain  circumstances  occurred  all 
at  once,  which,  by  recalling  many  overshadowed  but  still 
cherished  memories,  moved  me  to  take  up  my  recollective  pen 
again,  and  to  write  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs."  Sir  John  Moore, 
my  dear  absent  brother's  "  master  in  arms,'7  had  just  closed 
his  career  of  devotedness  to  "  England's  glory  "  on  the  heights 
of  Corunna,  and  many  of  the  gallant  leaders  (also  our  friends), 
who  had  followed  his  brave  footsteps  thither,  had  likewise 
found  their  "  gory  bed  "  on  the  same  weeping  field  of  victory. 
It  might  then  have  been  truly  said,  "  Alas  for  Caledonia  ! 
The  flowers  of  her  forest  are  again  wed  away  !  "  and  some  of 
them  being  of  the  race  of  the  chiefs  of  my  early  admiration, 
I  felt  as  if  sweetly  though  sadly  mingling  a  silent  lament  for 
the  sons,  in  the  Coronach  my  pen  then  meditated  to  raise  to 
the  memories  of  their  forefathers.  There  were  many  warm 
hearts  both  in  Scotland  and  in  England  which  then  responded 
to  the  strain,  but  most  of  them  are  now  cold ;  for,  as  I  have 
already  mentioned,  thirty  years  have  elapsed  since  that  work 
was  published. 

The  writer  was  then  in  the  bloom  of  her  days ;  in  the  fresh- 
ness of  her  most  inspiring  impressions ;  and,  what  was  more 
and  dearer,  she  then  lived  in  the  bosom  of  a  beloved  family 
from  which  her  heart  had  never  wandered  —  her  mother  and 
her  sister. 


RETROSPECTIVE    PEEFACE.  xix 

The  society  around  them  too,  in  that  attractive  part  of 
Surrey,  was,  as  has  been  said,  everything  she  could  desire  to 
replace  to  her  the  bright  little  constellation  of  friendship  — 
bland  as  "  the  sweet  influences  of  the  Pleiades  "  —  she  had 
quitted,  with  no  small  reluctance,  when  she  bade  farewell  to 
London.  Names  which  will  ever  shine  in  the  historical  annals 
of  that  period  were  owned  by  those  she  regretted  to  part 
from.  But  there  is  no  spot  under  heaven's  canopy  that  has 
not  its  "gems  of  purest  ray  serene;"  and  here,  in  the  com- 
parative retirement  of  a  village  and  its  environs,  she  had  met 
accomplished  minds,  of  elegant  habits,  and  social,  without 
dissipation,  affording  her  leisure  and  seclusion  for  all  her 
studious  occupations. 

My  sister  Anna  Maria,  more  brilliantly  endowed,  and  with 
a  judgment  far  beyond  her  years,  never  found  it  needful  for 
her  acquirements  to  sacrifice  the  genial  companionship  of 
friendship  to  close  study  of  any  kind,  the  quickness  of  her 
perceptions  giving  her  almost  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  every- 
thing she  wished  to  learn ;  while  I,  from  childhood  upwards, 
"  toiled  up  the  hill "  of  knowledge  half  my  days. 

I  write  this  with  a  picture  of  the  contrast  between  us  in  this 
particular  vividly  before  me.  We  had  different  ways  of  at- 
taining the  same  objects.  She,  with  the  wings  of  her  soul 
fledged  for  the  highest  point ;  I  ever  saw  her  rapidly  gain, 
while  I  was  still  laboring  to  follow  her.  But  both,  I  trust, 
ultimately  reached  the  same  end.  For  our  principles,  our 
tastes,  and  our  views  in  life  were  exactly  the  same  j  and  when 
we  began  to  write  for  publication,  we  regarded  our  works  not 
as  a  pastime  for  ourselves  or  a  mere  amusement  for  others, 
but  as  the  use  to  be  made  of  an  intrusted  talent  "  given  to  us 
for  a  purpose ; "  and  for  every  word  we  set  down  in  our  pages 
we  believed  we  must  hereafter  be  accountable  to  Heaven  and 
our  country.  This  sense  of  responsibility  certainly  deepened 
the  constitutional  concentration  of  my  thoughts,  gravitating 
them  perhaps  a  little  too  heavily  when  employed  with  my  pen ; 
and  when,  somewhat  wearied,  I  emerged  from  my  bird-nest 
chamber  under  the  thatched  eaves  of  our  rustic  dwelling,  it 
was  "  nothing  loath  "  I  sought  the  cheerful  group  I  heard  talk- 
ing in  the  parlor  below ;  where,  usually  seated  between  my 
mother  and  sister,  I  always  met  some  of  our  pleasant  visitors, 
ready  to  draw  me  out  from  my  absorbing  pursuits  by  a 
general  conversation  full  of  intelligence  and  grace.  These 
amiable  persons,  gifted  in  heart  as  well  as  head,  never  had 
recourse  to  animadversions  on  their  acquaintance,  nor  to  the 


XX  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

repetition  of  any  current  tale  of  "  evil  report "  (however  wit 
might  season  the  scandal),  for  subjects  of  their  discourse. 
Having  pleasure  in  thinking  the  best  of  everybody,  prejudice 
or  surmise  never  had  weight  with  them ;  and  looking  to  proofs 
alone,  when  they  must  believe  ill  of  a  fellow-creature  they 
always  spoke  with  tenderness,  truth,  and  candor;  in  short, 
in  that  spirit  of  conscientiousness  with  which  every  honest 
man  or  woman  would  desire  their  own  character  to  be  dis- 
cussed and  judged.  Many  of  those  "  excellent  of  the  earth  " 
are  gone  to  the  "better  world"  their  benignant  dispositions 
were  so  well  prepared  to  enjoy ;  but  this  balm  in  the  atmos- 
phere their  kindly  breaths  influenced  is  still  felt  and  inhaled, 
to  a  corresponding  action,  in  that  favored  neighborhood. 
There  were  the  Eitzgeralds  of  Boyle  Farm,  a  noble  and  a 
lovely  race,  who  counted  the  Strongbows  of  Ireland  on  one 
side  of  their  family  tree,  and  the  Boyle  Walsinghams,  noted 
in  "  arts  and  arms,"  on  the  other.  The  Sullivans,  of  "  green 
Erin's  "  royal  stems,  inhabited  a  fair  mansion  on  our  Thames's 
fairest  bank;  themselves  brave  and  beauteous  as  their  ancient 
line,  and  in  munificence  generous  as  the  rich  soil  on  which 
their  English  mansion  stood.1  Also  the  E-aikes,  of  ever  mem- 
orable name,  as  being  the  first  creators  of  Sunday-schools  in 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  which  indeed  were  the  fountains 
whence  all  our  succeeding  various  establishments  of  every 
description  for  the  education  of  the  poor  have  sprung.  They 
too  dwelt  for  a  time  in  Thames  Ditton,  and  the  footsteps  of 
their  wide  benevolence  are  yet  traceable  under  many  a  lowly 
roof.  Cambria,  likewise,  sent  of  her  interesting  people,  to  live 
amongst  us,  a  family  of  the  race  of  Morgan  of  Tredegar, 
who  for  some  years  shed  their  liberal  encouragement  to  indus- 
try along  the  rural  precincts  of  our  river.2  Up  the  Long- 
Ditton  hill  were  abundantly  sown  the  seats  of  a  British 
gentry  worthy  of  their  rare  order  in  the  people  of  a  nation  ;  an 
order  which,  like  that  of  our  yeomen,  is  honorably  peculiar  to 
the  constitution  of  our  land.  The  Streatfields,  the  Langleys, 
the  Cochranes,  the  Barclays,  the  Urquharts,  and  others  (all 
justly  revered),  inhabited  that  high  track  overlooking  the 
Thames.  But  how  have  these  passed  away !  for  when  I  re- 

1  The  then  head  of  the  house,  Sir  Henry  Sullivan  (a  colonel  in  the  Guards) ,  gallantly 
fell  at  the  fatal  sortie  of  Bayonne.    Admiral  Sir  Charles  Sullivan  (his  brother  and  suc- 
cessor in  the  Baronetcy)  now  maintains  the  family  honors  at  his  own  favorite  residence 
of  Ember  Court  (but  still  in  his  old  neighborhood),  built  by  the  well-known  speaker, 
Onslow ;  where,  as  his  frequent  guest,  Richardson  wrote  parts  of  his  three  celebrated 
novels.    When  visiting  there  I  have  often  occupied  the  venerated  moralist's  room. 

2  They  are  now  removed  to  a  beautiful  situation  at  Norwood,  to  which,  from  its  re- 
semblance to  certain  points  in  the  vale  of  Portuguese  Cintra,  they  have  given  tliatEly- 
sian  name  to  their  own  balmy  and  picturesque  new  abode  amongst  the  Surrey  hills. 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xxi 

visited  the  neighborhood  a  few  years  ago,  I  found  their  places 
indeed,  but  most  of  themselves  no  more !  In  like  manner, 
when  I  sought  the  remains  of  my  once  gladdening  little  home, 
scarcely  a  remnant  of  what  it  was  could  be  traced.  Its  rose- 
wreathed  walls  were  gone ;  its  garden  laid  into  a  nobleman's 
adjacent  grounds ;  and  "  the  venerable  Mrs.  Porter's  pastoral 
cottage"  (which  the  classic  Sir  Frederick  Eden,  of  Hampton 
Palace,  her  kinsman  and  frequent  guest,  had  gayly  supernamed 
Little  Arcadia)  was  almost  gone  —  a  spot  which  had  brightened 
the  eyes  of  many  a  tourist  when  loitering  by  its  trellis  porch, 
and,  looking  in,  admired  its  bowery  hangings  studded  with  sing- 
ing birds,  its  small  green  stands  covered  with  fragrant  beau- 
pots  of  every  flower  in  the  season,  gathered  from  our  own  garden 
or  sent  in  greater  quantities  to  my  dear  sister  from  the  more 
costly  parterres  of  our  friends ;  she  being  particularly  fond  of 
nature's  garlands,  whether  in  their  native  wildness  or  cult- 
ured to  the  perfection  of  the  rarest  exotics  transplanted  to 
our  soil.  But  what  was  yet  sweeter  to  her  eye  and  ear  were 
the  prayer  and  the  blessing  of  the  "hungry  and  the  way- 
worn," whom  we  often  saw  and  heard  pouring  their  modest 
gratitude  over  the  wicket-gate  before  the  porch  of  our  door. 
For  no  weary  traveller  or  real  object  of  charity  ever  stopped 
to  lean  for  a  moment's  rest  on  that  humble  paling  without 
attracting  our  mother's  notice  and  meeting  a  bounteous  re- 
freshment from  her  hand.  But  the  place  of  all  these  sacred 
remembrances  has  disappeared ;  and  the  foundations  011  which 
our  particular  residence  stood  have  been  adapted  to  new  erec- 
tions subsequently  built  by  the  present  noble  proprietor.  He 
however  magnificently  fills  the  pilgrim's  gap  our  venerated 
parent's  departure  had  made  void,  though  not  directly  in  her 
position.  She  lived  within  a  small  distance  of  the  wayside, 
and  quickly  descrying  the  "  needy  and  the  desolate  "  from  her 
parlor-window,  or  when  walking  in  her  garden  discerning 
them  over  the  low  fence  between  it  and  the  public  road,  she 
never  failed  calling  them  in  to  administer  to  their  wants ;  and 
while  standing  by  her  we  often  saw  them  pass  on  rejoicing, 
as  if  they  had  met  "  an  angel  in  their  extremity."  It  is 
curious  and  admirable  to  observe  how  every  degree  of  society, 
from  the  prince  to  the  peasant,  has  its  appropriate  commission 
in  the  universal  duty  of  charity,  their  different  stations  com- 
manding different  views  and  different  classes  of  human  beings 
for  the  exercise  of  that  indispensable  virtue ;  and  the  benevo- 
lent Christian  nobleman  who  now  owns  that  little  garden-plot 
(then  adjoining  his  own  fine  domain)  dispenses  his  heaven- 


xxil  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

intrusted  stewardship  on  a  large  and  almost  unlimited  scale. 
My  mother's  was  the  widow's  mite.1 

After  I  had  looked  around  me  and  saw  that  most  of  the 
honored  names  these  pages  have  just  mentioned  were  only  to 
be  found  on  their  churchyard  monuments,  and  after  I  had 
mingled  regretful  tears  with  my  few  remaining  friends  who 
yet  survive  of  those  long-illustrious  races,  I  hastened  to  return 
to,  or  rather  to  see  again,  my  other  home  of  a  more  subsequent 
date  at  Esher. 

My  mother  had  removed  thither,  not  from  any  desire  of 
change  merely  as  change,  nor  to  quit  old  acquaintances  for  the 
sometimes  exhilarating  novelty  of  new,  but  because  the  air  of 
the  humid  valley  of  the  Thames  had  become  injurious  to  her 
own  and  my  sister's  healths,  and  the  transfer  to  this  higher 
and  drier  soil  was  not  far  from  the  time-endeared  friends  we 
had  left  below.  To  this  new  residence  the  "  fair  lot "  we  had 
drawn  when  fixing  at  Thames  Ditton  followed  us,  and  for  ten 
successive  years  we  lived  at  Esher,-  happy  in  the  accession 
of  kind  neighbors,  and  happy  in  the  still-preserved  friend- 
ship and  frequent  society  of  those  who  had  made  the  valley  a 
"  place  of  pleasantness  "  to  us. 

But  a  change  was  at  length  to  come  to  myself  which  I  had 
never  anticipated ;  the  revered  parent  who  had  ever  been  the 
crown  of  our  dwelling  was  taken  from  us,  and  within  a  twelve- 
month after  that  stroke  my  beloved  sister  was  called  to  rejoin 
her  in  their  "heavenly  home."  The  dying  lips  of  'our  mother 
while  blessing  her  children  had  given  it  that  sacred  name  — 
her  "  wished-for  home." 

The  brother  who  had  been  my  youth's  companion  and  the 
ever  cheerer  of  our  earthly  home  was  in  South  America  when 
both  these  events  befell  me,  and  it  was  while  on  a  transitory 
visit  to  our  elder  brother  (who  had  long  been  married  and 
settled  at  Bristol  as  a  physician)  that  I  was  deprived  of  her 
whose  existence  had  been  as  part  of  iny  soul.  She  gone,  the 
bond  to  our  late  dear  home  was  taken  away ;  it  was  "  left  unto 
me  desolate,"  and  I  remained  with  him  for  an  indefinite  time. 
Next  .to  the  Almighty's  consolations,  there  is  no  comfort  to 
sorrow  like  the  sheltered  quiet  of  a  kindred  mourner's  roof. 


confidant  of  majesty  and  "soldier's  friend,"  has  been  and  is  honored  throughout  the 
British  army  and  the  whole  British  nation. 

Are  not  all  these  little  notices  of  the  really  "  excellent  of  the  earth  "  worthy  reasons 
for  venerating  kindred  bonds  to  such  examples?  It  is  not  wealth  and  rank  1  have 
pleasure  in  recording,  but  virtue. 


RETROSPECTIVE   PREFACE.  xxiii 

But  circumstances  at  length  summoned  me  back  for  a  while 
to  our  Esher  cottage,  the  last  abode  I  had  inhabited  with  the 
beings  dearest  to  me.  During  all  the  intervening  time  bet  ween 
my  departure  thence  with  my  sister  and  my  return  thither 
alone,  my  health  was  becoming  gradually  impaired.  I  had 
been  medically  advised  to  try  various  changes  of  air  for  its  re- 
covery j  but  small  success  attended  the  experiment.  I  was  also 
counselled  by  my  friends  to  resume  some  interesting  composi- 
tion ;  but  I  felt  neither  the  power  nor  the  desire  to  touch  a 
literary  pen  again.  They  were  gone  whose  words  had  kindled 
my  emulations,  whose  approving  smiles  had  been  the  most 
prized  reward  of  my  labors. 

But  having  come  to  the  point  of  this  my  sad  revisit  to  my 
Esher  home  (which  indeed  was  to  part  from  it  finally),  I  can- 
not allow  it  to  pass  quite  away  from  me  without  some  little 
record  of  "  its  local  habitation,"  and  of  those  around  it  who 
had  made  it,  like  dear  Thames  Ditton,  a  home  of  delight. 

.  Our  abode  at  Esher  was  in  the  village  and  a  cottage  still, 
but  its  situation  was  airy  and  cheerful ;  on  the  summit  of  a 
hill  (for  my  mother  loved  an  open  view)  commanding  all 
those  various  points  which  had  rendered  that  perfectly  rural 
spot  an  object  of  interest  to  all  respecters  of  historical  and 
poetical  recollections ;  besides  a  more  recent  claim  to  reveren- 
tial regard,  it  having  been  the  bridal  residence  of  one  Princess 
of  England  cut  off  and  mourned  in  the  bloom  of  her  youth ; 
of  another,  whose  promising  childhood  comprised  for  some 
years  there  the  hopes  of  the  empire  over  which  she  now  prov- 
identially reigns. 

The  paling  of  my  mother's  garden  divided  her  little  domain 
from  the  superb  lawns  and  woods  of  Claremont  Park,  from 
whence,  during  its  habitation  by  his  Royal  Highness  Prince 
Leopold,  she  ever  received  the  most  gratifying  attentions  to 
venerable  age,  and  presents  of  fruit,  rare  vegetables,  and  game 
in  their  due  season.  But  courtesies  and  condescensions  were 
not  the  only  characteristics  of  that  true  prince  and  his  then 
royal  bride.  Many  are  the  interesting  facts  the  present  narra- 
tor of  these  things  might  tell  of  the  wide  benevolence  which 
emanated  from  that  palace  of  our  village,  but  this  is  not  a 
place  for  them,  and  she  believes  that  already  such  trustworthy 
memorials  are  registered  by  hands  that  will  not  suffer  them  to 
be  lost  to  posterity.1 

On  a  less  elevated,  but  not  less  revered,  subject  a  daughter's 

1  While  these  pages  are  in  the  press,  Miss  Strickland  has  published  the  interesting 
work  alluded  to,  —  "  The  Annals  of  Queen  Victoria  from  her  Birth  to  her  Bridal." 


xxiv  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

pen  delights  to  dwell  — on  the  immediate  objects  surrounding 
her  own  little  home,  objects  which  most  especially  recall  the 
never-faded  memories  of  all  it  once  possessed  for  her,  and 
which,  whether  from  the  traditions  connected  with  them,  or 
from  the  imaginations  alone  excited  by  the  romance  of  certain 
associations  they  conjured  up,  became  the  successive  moving 
principles  of  most  of  the  tales  herself  and  sister  wrote  while 
under  that  village  roof. 

In  front  of  our  cottage  we  had  a  full  view  of  the  gates  and 
high  trees  of  Esher-place,  opening  from  the  village  on  that  side 
of  the  brow  of  the  hill.  In  olden  times  this  was  an  ecclesias- 
tical demesne  of  Cardinal  Wolsey,  which  he  frequently  inhab- 
ited in  the  days  of  his  towering  favor  with  Henry  VIII.,  and  in 
their  cloudy  evening,  when  that  capricious  monarch's  aspect 
changed.  The  episcopal  palace  stood  on  low  ground  at  the 
foot  of  a  noble  swell  or  mound-like  eminence  on  the  apex  of 
which  appeared  a  venerable  summer-house,  the  erection  of 
former  incumbents,  from  whence  the  cardinal  could  feast  his 
high-reaching  eyes  by  beholding,  though  from  afar,  Windsor 
Castle,  the  occasional  "banquet-hall"  of  his  luxurious  sov- 
ereign, but  in  more  ancient  times  the  accustomed  stately  resi- 
dence of  most  of  our  English  kings,  from  the  first  Norman 
William  to  the  founders  of  the  royal  race  of  Tudor.  Nearer 
home,  while  standing  on  the  same  spot,  he  must  have  observed 
with  even  an  intenser  interest  (for  worldly  as  his  proud  mind 
was,  he  yet  respected  the  religion  he  professed)  St.  George's 
Hill,  and  seen  in  its  dyked  remains  of  Julius  Caesar's  camp 
helming  its  summit,  the  prelude  of  that  very  religion's  mar- 
vellous establishment  in  this  then  barbarously  heathen  coun- 
try. There  the  Roman,  conqueror  planted  the  idol  standards 
of  then  civilized  but  darkly  pagan  Rome,  the  eagles  of  Jupiter 
Capitolinus,  and  the  deification-emblem  of  the  great  city  itself, 
S.P.Q.R. ;  "The  Lady  of  Kingdoms,"  who  said,  "I  shall  be 
for  ever  !  "  But  the  "  better-lored  "  eye,  which  then  contem- 
plated them  in  its  mental  vision,  must  have  seen  them  as  only 
the  forerunners  of  "  the  ensigns  "  of  the  only  true  God,  the 
"  Cross  of  Christ ! "  the  Divine  messenger  from  on  high,  who 
"  brought  truth,"  and  "  man's  salvation,"  and  "  immortality  to 
light-! " 

Within  a  century  after  that  commanding  height  was  thus 
embattled  by  the  Roman  chief  and  resounding  with  the  clangor 
of  his  eager  legions,  descending  its  sloping  sides  with  fire  and 
Bword  to  devastate  the  plain  below,  the  religion  of  peace  was 
brought  to  this  land,  and  the  hermit-cells  of  its  first  messen- 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xxv 

gers  to  us  of  "  God's  reconciliation  with  rebellious  man  "  are 
still  to  be  traced  in  Glastonbury,  Canterbury,  and  York.  The 
"  good  seed  "  was  then  sown  which  hereafter  was  to  spread 
its  sacred  branches  universally  over  shore  and  sea.1 

In  the  opposite  direction  (beyond  the  plain  below)  lay  the 
Ditton  valley  of  the  Mole  and  Thames,  in  smiling  regions  of 
this  fulfilled  peace;  where  "swords  are  beaten  into  plough- 
shares, and  spears  into  pruning-hooks,"  and  pastures  and  dewy 
meadows  were  spread  around ;  where  sheep  fed,  and  kine 
lowed,  and  dairy  damsels  were  seen  tripping  along  with  their 
teeming  milk-pails  towards  the  different  granges,  many  of 
which,  on  that  rich  grazing-ground,  owned  the  Cardinal  him- 
self for  their  master. 

But  there 'was  something  beyond  this  lovely  simplicity  of 
nature  which  might  attract  his  almost  princely  Eminence's 
more  complacent  gaze.  The  advance  of  the  majestic  residence 
he  was  building  on  the  further  banks  of  the  river,  since  called 
Hampton  Court,  and  which  he  meant  should  speedily  super- 
sede the  comparative  narrowness  of  the  old  Esher  episcopal 
abode,  too  narrow  to  comport  with  the  greatness  of  his  station, 
the  multitude  of  his  retainers,  and  the  retinue  of  his  frequent 
numerous  guests.  Yet  of  this  future  palace  for  himself,  it  is 
well  known  how  an  observation  of  surprise  from  his  sovereign, 
who  happened  to  remark  its  rising  walls  from  the  very  sum- 
mer-house described,  compelled  the  ambitious  architect  to 
couch  his  premeditated  presumption  under  the  finesse  that 
it  was  intended  to  be  "a  humble  offering  from  a  poor  but 
grateful  servant  to  his  most  august  liege  lord  the  king." 
The  offering  was  accepted,  but  how  little  of  the  intention 
was  believed  his  "  liege  lord's "  subsequent  conduct  soon 
proved. 

It  is  impossible  to  think  on  these  things  while  standing 
where  the  monarch  and  his  minister  then  stood,  and  not  find 
the  "  visions  of  other  days  "  passing  before  us.  A  peculiar 
hue  of  the  grass  on  the  mound,  different  from  all  the  rest, 
marks  the  spot  which  the  antique  little  building  occupied, 
and  where,  in  our  "  vision's  glass,"  we  must  still  behold  this 
gay  and  gracefully  minded,  as  well  as  haughty-hearted,  Anglo- 
lioman  Bishop,  enjoying  some  of  his  most  blameless  pleasures 

1  While  on  an  occasional  visit  to  the  neighborhood  of  Esher,  Mr.  "Westcar,  of  Bur- 
wood  (on  the  vale  which  stretches  before  St.  George's  Hill),  drove  me  in  his  phaeton 
to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  pointed  out  to  me,  through  all  its  encumbering  thickets  which 
have  nearly  quite  overgrown  the  site  of  the  Roman  camp,  the  lines  of  its  vast  en- 
trenchments still  admirable  in  their  remains.  He  told  me  that  Mr.  Jesse,  the  cele- 
brated antiquary,  and  who  resides  near  the  spot,  had  made  many  interesting  discoveries 
there  relative  to  the  Roman  invasion. 


xxvi  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

—  the  charms  of  creation  around  him,  sunlit  on  hill  and 
valley,  in  flood  and  field,  and  by  the  side  of  some  familiar 
friend,  "  taking  sweet  counsel,"  —  Thomas  Cromwell  perhaps, 
or  the  ever-faithful  William  Cavendish,  —  adapting  to  these 
pleasing  contemplations  of  present  rural  life  his  illustrative 
recollections  of  classic  poesy.  This  spot,  for  such  a  view  and 
such  associations,  continued  for  many  succeeding  generations 
to  retain  that  old  Gothic  summer-house,  until  it  was  displaced 
about  a  century  ago,  for  a  novel  erection,  one  in  the  then 
reigning  Italian  taste  for  colonnades  and  statued  architraves. 
The  change  was  made  by  the  celebrated  Pelhams  when  they 
came  into  possession  of  the  place ;  the  theme  of  Pope,  of 
Addison,  of  Thomson,  and  of  other  of  our  island  bards,  who 
blithely  sung  of 

"  Esher's  green  retreats, 
Where  art  and  nature  vied  for  Pelham's  love." 

Nature,  lovely  and  disinterested  nature,  being  in  all  ages 
still  the  gentle  soother  of  every  time-worn  breast,  from  him 
who  escapes  from  the  constant  homage  of  a  pomp-wearying 
throne  to  the  care-turmoiled  statesman,  courted  and  perse- 
cuted, and  the  lauded  hero  of  a  hundred  victories,  one  day 
worshipped  as  a  god,  the  next  thrust  aside  as  a  useless  staff 
no  longer  needed.  Such  are  the  world's  ambitions,  the  world's 
rewards ;  such  nature's  calm  delights,  a  perpetual  haven  to 
the  soul  of  him  who  has  wrought  well  in  his  vocation.  For 
indolence  or  luxury  hath  no  part  nor  portion  in  this  sabbath 
to  mind  and  body.  Labor  is  man's  duty,  whatever  his  rank 
in  life  may  be,  and  to  really  enjoy  its  progress  to  its  close  he 
must  fulfil  its  law,  and  then  the  business  of  his  occupation 
in  the.  world's  "  great  waters  "  being  done,  he  may  be  al- 
lowed "to  seek  the  harbor  where  he  would  be, — and 'be  at 
rest/' 

From  certain  heiresses  of  the  house  of  Pelham,  John  Spicer, 
Esq.  (one  of  our  long-honored  old  English  Gentlemen)  pur- 
chased this  noble  estate,  and  became  their  successor.  The 
ancient  mansion  having  become  much  dilapidated,  and  its  sit- 
uation being  considered  rather  too  close  to  the  dank  windings 
of  the  Mole  during  parts  of  the  year,  he  was  recommended  to 
pull  it  down,  and  reerect  a  new  one  out  of  its  venerable  mate- 
rials, on  a  more  salubrious  spot.  He  adopted  the  advice ;  lev- 
elling the  whole,  excepting  the  square  tower  that  had  been  the 
especial  residence  of  Wolsey. 

From  its  centre  apartment    (still  reverentially  preserved) 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xxvii 

the  disfavored  cardinal  dictated  that  pathetic  appeal  to  his 
capricious  lord  which  pleaded  for  release  from  an  abode  that 
had  been  intended  to  be  merely  a  summer  appendage  to  the 
episcopal  palace  of  Winchester.  For  when  autumn  advanced 
and  found  him  yet  on  that  vapory  shore,  to  which  he  had  been 
confined  by  a  mandate  from  the  sovereign  he  had  only  too 
devotedly  served,  his  feeble  age  sunk  under  the  infliction,  and 
rheumatism  and  ague  began  to  menace  his  few  dregs  of  life. 

His  secretary,  Cavendish,  has  written  an  affecting  narrative 
of  this  hard  durance,  and  as  harsh  removal  to  a  still  more  fatal 
exchange;  but  Shakespeare  has  perpetuated  both  circum- 
stances to  the  eyes  and  hearts  of  all  posterity.  We  see  the 
condemned  prisoner  tottering  forth  from  his  tower-chamber  of 
Esher,  and  we  have  not  left  him  at  the  gate  of  Leicester  Abbey. 
We  bow  down  our  own  heads  in  each  place  ;  for  the  bard  of 
nature  and  of  truth  has  hallowed  the  memory  of  that  once 
proud  but  then  stricken  old  man  with  reverence  and  pity  ;  and 
showing  the  injuries  heaped  on  that  defenceless,  denuded  brow 
by  his  tyrannous  master,  has  deservedly  stamped  the  royal 
name  of  Harry  Tudor  with  scorn  and  ..detestation. 

The  old  tower,  the  only  remaining  remnant  of  the  scene  of 
so  many  interesting  events,  still  presents  a  magnificent  speci- 
men of  what  the  whole  structure  must  have  been  in  the 
"  palmy  days  "  of  the  cardinal's  all-dominant  favoritism,  when, 
lackeyed  by  the  liveried  sons  of  the  loftiest  peers  in  the  realm, 
courted  by  those  peers  themselves,  and  pressed  around  by 
diplomatic  and  ecclesiastical  dignitaries  from  almost  every 
foreign  country,  it  seemed  as  if  a  representative  from  all  the 
world  had  assembled  in  that  stately  chamber  to  do  him  hom- 
age in  his  double  capacity  of  highest  churchman  and  greatest 
statesman  of  the  most  powerful  empire  in  the  world.  But  the 
curtain  of  that  great  act  has  dropped.  Now  cloud-like  hover- 
ing rooks,  wending  their  heavy  course  from  the  neighboring 
wooded  heights,  are  the  only  guests  descried  approaching 
those  unwardered  walls ;  and  the  twitter  of  lesser  birds,  build- 
ing their  nests  in  the  green  branches  crowding  in  through  the 
broken  framework  of  the  windows,  or  nursing  their  callow 
young  amongst  the  thick-woven  rustling  leaves,  are  the  only 
sounds  heard  within  that  once  gorgeous  apartment,  in  which 
the  worshipping  conclave  met, —  and  flattered, —  and  betrayed  ! 

The  superb  arras  which  in  those  days  decorated  its  panelled 
sides,  portraying  his  rank  in  splendid  blazonry  of  needlework, 
has  now  given  place  to  the  tapestry  of  nature  —  ivy,  with  the 
wild  clematis  and  other  clinging  plants  —  too  like  his  own 


xxviii  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

circumvented  fortunes,  weed-choked  by  the  parasites  his  sunny 
smiles  had  reared. 

When  this  often  pilgrim-sought  "  palace  of  ages  "  was  at 
last  resigned  to  the  doom  of  becoming  a  picturesque"  ruin  only, 
its  new  possessor  (as  has  been  told)  erected  the  present  mod- 
ern mansion  on  a  part  of  the  very  knoll  on  which  the  Bishop 
Cardinal's  summer-house  had  stood.  That  "place  of  pleas- 
aunce  "  was  then  totally  erased,  to  leave  a  more  spacious  area 
for  the  formation  of  the  extensive  lawn  that  now  expands  on 
every  side  to  the  verge  of  the  hill,  showing  from  it,  as  in  days 
of  yore,  the  most  beautiful  as  well  as  the  most  commanding 
view  in  all  Surrey. 

Within  the  hall  of  the  new  residence,  part  of  the  trophied 
arras  of  the  ancient  mansion  has  been  hung,  and  is  considered 
its  most  valued  furniture  by  the  present  owner ;  the  larger  por- 
tion having  been  presented  by  his  father,  the  late  Mr.  Spicer, 
to  Christ-church  College,  the  boast  of  Oxford,  and  which  was 
founded  by  the  cardinal  when  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power, 
with  all  the  munificence  of  a  .prince. 

Both  the  antique  tower  and  the  modern  place  of  Esher  were 
frequent  objects  in  our  evening  rambles.  My  mother  and  sister 
loved  the  serene  sunset  hour,  and  better  loved  to  seek  the 
kindly  dwelling,  to  enjoy  the  converse  of  its  dear  domestic  tea- 
table.  It  was  but  a  short  distance  from  our  cell,  and  often 
before  I  joined  them  in  their  walk,  my  eyes  have  pursued  the 
picturesque  little  group  from  our  rose-mantled  window,  —  (a 
floral  adornment  peculiar  to  cottages  of  every  degree  in  happy 
England,)  —  I  have  watched  them  moving  along  over  the  pretty 
village-green,  here  and  there  studded  with  broken  lines  of  old 
gnarled  trees,  under  which  the  boys  play,  whose  grandfathers 
had  done  the  same.  The  dear  objects  of  my  gaze,  avoiding  the 
merry  gambollers  and  their  football  paths,  happened  to  wind 
their  way  more  in  my  sight.  My  sister,  with  her  light  and 
graceful  figure  (a  very  Hebe  supporting  age),  lending  her  arm 
to  our  mother,  who  took  it  rather  from  loving  the  prop  than 
requiring  it,  for  her  age  was  still  as  elastic  in  body  as  in  mind ; 
yet  she  seemed  to  sustain  her  steps  by  a  slender  pastoral-like 
staff  she  held  in  her  opposite  hand  —  its  stem  of  hickory-wood, 
its  crook  a  black  chamois  horn.  But  it  also  was  leaned  on  by 
her  rather  from  remembrance  than  weakness.  It  had  been 
brought  to  her  in  her  early  days  of  marriage,  by  my  father,  from 
the  Pyrenees,  it  being  the  fashion  in  those  times  for  ladies  of 
every  age  to  walk  with  such  novel  appendages,  and  habited  in 
dresses  corresponding. 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xxix 

Free  from  affectation  of  any  sort,  she  had  retained  nothing 
of  that  fondly  recollected  mode,  excepting  this  staff  of  pleasing 
conjurations,  her  dress  being  quite  in  keeping  with  the  rev- 
erential years  which  might  have  made  its  sustaining  help 
necessary.  By  her  side  or  before  her  usually  ran  a  favorite 
white  little  dog,  and  our  neighbors  who  met  her  in  her  walks 
used  to  smilingly  accost  her  as  u  the  venerable  shepherdess  of 
Esher,  with  her  pet  lamb."  He  always  accompanied  us  to 
Esher  Place,  or  in  our  strolls  towards  the  interesting  ruin, 
bounding  through  the  long  grass  on  the  once  gravelled  avenue, 
and  chasing  birds  where  aforetime  the  mitred  equipages  were 
wont  to  drive.  Turning  from  the  little  animal's  playful  career, 
our  thoughts  centred  on  the  object  before  us,  the  bard  of  Avon 
being  in  our  memories  if  not  by  our  sides ;  and  stopping  at  in- 
tervals under  the  bowery  limes  that  fringe  the  declivities  of 
the  knoll,  or  beneath  the  more  stately  elms  which  in  scattered 
groves  canopy  the  glades  below,  contemplated  with  a  medita- 
tive repose  of  spirit  that  region  of  stilly  peace,  where  the 
departing  train  of  the  princely  owner  of  three  centuries  ago 
had  last  passed  along.  His  burdened  soul  was  then  bowed, 
with  sorrow  and  sickness,  over  the  head  of  the  favorite  mule, 
whose  hitherto  proudly  arching  neck,  the  historian  tells  us,  was 
also  bent  down,  as  if  in  unison  with  its  master's  altered  fate. 

He  was  indeed  yet  preceded  and  followed  by  several  hundred 
gayly  caparisoned  steeds ;  but  their  clamoring  riders  were 
separating  on  all  quarters  from  him  who  had  just  bidden 
"farewell  to  all  his  greatness."  It  was  then  the  affecting  ex- 
clamation broke  from  his  heart-wrung  lips :  "  Had  I  but  served 
my  God  as  I  have  served  my  king,  he  would  not  have  left  me 
in  mine  age  to  this  extremity." 

At  the  foot  of  the  knoll,  and  nearly  opposite  the  scene  of 
this  sadly  eloquent  procession,  my  mother  (herself  then  at  the 
period  of  eighty-four)  planted,  as  a  kind  of  landmark  to  the 
actual  spot  on  which  it  had  passed  away,  the  scion  of  a  much- 
revered  tree  ;  one  that  had  flourished  from  age  to  age  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  and  been  dedicated  by  the  neighboring  North 
American  chiefs  "  to  councils  of  peace,  and  the  Great  Spirit." 
Its  seed,  the  gift  to  my  mother  from  a  travelled  friend  (Mr. 
Rankin,  the  learned  author  of  the  "Mongol  Settlements"  on 
that  continent  while  it  was  yet  unknown  to  Europe),  was 
reared  by  her  in  a  common  garden-pot,  and  when  grown  to  the 
size  of  a  healthy  sucker,  she  presented  it  for  the  above  purpose 
to  the  elder  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spicer,  then  residents  in  Esher 
Place. 


XXX  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

While  they  and  the  younger  branches  of  their  name  stood 
around  the  selected  site,  the  ground  was  duly  prepared,  and  my 
venerable  parent  going  down  into  the  aperture,  with  the  tender 
plant  in  her  hand,  fixed  its  station  for  future  maturity.  My 
youngest  brother  (who  happened  to  be  in  England  on  a  short 
leave  from  his  diplomatic  duties  in  South  America)  and  the 
elder  Mr.  Spicer  assisted  her  to  step  from  the  opening,  which 
had  been  dug  rather  deep  for  the  better  security  of  the  plant. 
She  was  silent,  but  I  saw  that  her  revered  eyes  were  full  of 
tears,  when  she  looked  up  to  her  son  and  took  his  proffered 
hand.  I  did  not  speak,  for  I  felt  the  ideas  which  had  raised 
them  ;  and  her  presage  was  not  wrong, —  for  though  she,  as 
well  as  the  elder  Mrs.  Spicer,  was  then  in  perfect  health  and 
possessed  of  every  other  cheering  promise  of  lengthened  life, 
—  within  little  more  than  one  year  afterwards  both  were  taken 
from  this  world ;  and  by  a  strange  coincidence,  the  infant  tree, 
which  had  continued  to  flourish  until  that  period,  withered  and 
died.  It  had  been  a  black  walnut,  and  when  the  perished 
root  was  unearthed  by  the  succeeding  master  and  mistress  of 
the  place,  they  commemorated  that  scene  of  so  many  recollec- 
tions by  planting  a  cypress  in  its  stead. 

The  churchyard  of  the  village  church  holds  the  vaulted 
graves,  side  by  side,  where  the  mortal  remains  of  our  venerated 
parents  "  rest  in  hope  ;  "  and  in  the  church  itself,  over  the  holy 
communion  table,  before  which  they  had  often  knelt,  my  brother 
has  placed  an  altar-piece  painted  by  himself  of  Christ  conse- 
crating the  last  supper  with  his  disciples  the  night  before  his 
crucifixion ;  —  the  sacred  cup  is  in  his  hand,  the  pledge  of  an 
eternal  union  with  Him  in  the  "heavenly  mansion7'  prepared 
for  them ;  and  "  not  only  for  them,  but  for  all  who  believe  in 
him  through  them,"  where  all  these  happy  "  spirits  of  the  just 
made  perfect "  shall  exist  forever ;  where  they  do  now  exist, 
for  the  soul  of  a  true  Christian,  though  his  body  be  laid  in  the 
grave,  "never  tastes  of  death." 

On  one  side  of  the  altar,  high  up  and  let  into  the  surface  of 
the  wall,  is  an  ancient  tablet  pointing  to  the  place  of  interment 
beneath  of  the  respected  father  of  the  renowned  Sir  Francis 
Drake ;  l  and  not  far  from  it  is  one  of  a  similar  shape  but  of 
white  marble,  a  cenotaph  to  the  memory  of  a  young  and  dis- 

1  Soon  after  the  death  of  Wolsey,  Henry  VIII.  took  the  estate  of  Esher  into  his  own 
hands  and  passed  it  by  royal  favor  into  the  possession  of  the  Drake  family.  Sir  Eliot 
Drake,  of  Devonshire,  the  present  lineal  representative  of  this  gallant  name  on  the  land* 
there  (which  a  subsequent  grateful  sovereign  bestowed  on  him),  is  in  possession  also  of 
some  splendid  insignia  of  his  ancestor's  prowens,  the  gifts  of  the  royal  Elizabeth.  Lady 
Drake  gave  the  writer  of  this  note  great  pleasure  in  showing  them  to  her. 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xxxi 

fcinguished  son  of  the  sea,  who  sleeps  where  "  the  treasures  of 
the  deep "  are  stored,  till  it  be  called  upon  to  "  give  up  its 
precious  dead."  There  are  other  monuments  also,  ancient  and 
modern,  and  under  the  pavement  the  revered  remains  of  many 
of  the  brave  and  virtuous  and  pious  forefathers  of  the  present 
generation  who  congregate  around  that  sacred  table  also  "  sleep 
in  Jesus ; "  while  in  the  simple  churchyard  beyond  those 
scutcheoned  walls,  beneath  its  greensward  repose  the  meek  and 
the  lowly,  in  the  same  "  faith  "  that  a  resurrection  unto  life 
and  bliss  eternal  awaits  their  rising  from  their  humble  graves^ 
• —  for  "  of  a  truth  "  we  are  assured  that  every  degree  in  the 
world's  ordination  is-  alike  to  him  who  regards  not  names  but 
deeds.1 

These  are  recollections  that  make  Esher  village  to  me  a 
place  of  memories,  like  the  songs  of  Ossian,  "pleasing  and 
melancholy  to  the  soul."  Such  are  the  recollections  which 
aforetime  instilled  into  and  in  aftertimes  nourished  in  both 
my  sister  and  myself  those  strains  -  of  thought  regarding 
human  character  and  their  high  intended  purpose  (whatever 
be  the  social  rank  of  the  actors),  that  successively  shaped 
themselves  into  her  romances  of  "  The  Hungarian  Brothers/' 
"  The  Knight  of  St.  John,"  "  The  Kecluse  of  Norway,"  etc., 
etc.,  and  into  my  biographic  tales  of  "  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw," 
"  The  Scottish  Chiefs,"  etc.,  most  of  which  were  written  either 
within  the  walls  of  "Fair  Augusta"  or  on  her  "storied 
plains,"  all  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames  or  of  the  Mole. 

The  originals  whence  we  drew  our  portraits  had  mostly 
been  living  men  and  women,  either  of  past  times  or  hap- 
pily visible  in  our  own;  persons  inspired  by  those  virtues 
which  prepare  mankind  for  their  immortal  destination  as  well 
as  accomplish  them  for  every  amiable  and  worthy  object  in 
this  world's  welfare.  With  such  studies  for  our  graphia  art 
we  could  hardly  miss  presenting  images  less  than  exemplary. 
"  He  that  shoots  at  the  sun,"  observed  the  hero  of  Zutphen, 
"must  strike  higher  than  he  who  aims  at  a  bush."  That  such 
was  the  effect  of  the  principles  which  actuated  our  earliest  and 
latest  aims  when  stringing  our  literary  bow,  I  have  grateful 
satisfaction  in  recording  here,  when  one  hallowed  hand  that 

1  Not  long  before  the  decease  of  our  revered  friend  the  elder  Mr.  Spicer  (whose 
monument  is  also,  with  that  of  his  brave  grandson,  in  the  church),  my  sister's  beautiful 
little  poem  of  "  The  Old  Tulip  Tree  at  Esher  Place  "  was  written  by  her  while  sitting 
under  its  shade.  One  of  its  noblest  branches  was  soon  after  riven  from  its  stem  by  a 
violent  storm;  but  the  wood  being  found  in  good  condition  in  spite  of  its  extreme  age, 
Mr.  Spicer  caused  several  finely  wrought  writing-boxes  to  be  made  from  it,  one  of 
which  hs  prese?ited  to  the  poetess  of  his  tree,  and  it  is  now  preserved  as  a  thing  hallowed 
by  the  sister  who  then  stood  by  her  side. 


xxxii  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

held  it  is  gone  where  the  use  of  the  "  bestowed  talent "  can 
alone  be  fully  estimated,  and  while  the  hand  of  the  other  is 
still  summoned  to  the  responsible  task. 

The  evidence  I  am  about  to  quote  was  from  the  Rev.  Morti- 
mer O'Sullivan,  whom  I  chanced  to  meet  at  Shirley  Park,  the 
house  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Skinner,  with  whom  I  was  then  a 
guest.  They  were  present,  as  was  likewise  Miss  Agnes  Strick- 
land (the  since  distinguished  biographer  of  the  "  Queens  of 
England").  It  was  my  first  interview  with  that  celebrate'd 
preacher ;  he  had  been  known  to  my  host  and  hostess  some 
time,  and  he  considered  them  as  they  deserved.1 

The  conversation  turned  on  imaginative  literature,  and  its 
influence  on  society  even  to  the  deepest  interests  of  man. 
After  some  observations  had  passed  on  the  novels  and  ro- 
mances of  the  century,  Mr.  O'Sullivan  looked  towards  me,  and 
with  impressive  earnestness  said,  "  You  and  your  sister  were 
very  young  when  you  began  to  be  authors  ;  but  you  made  a 
field  of  your  own.  You  and  she  came  forward  the  first  to 
teach,  in  such  works,  to  inculcate  Christianity,  in  stories  of 
romance.  You  came  forth  with  the  doctrines  that  there  was 
and  is  the  same  moral  law  for  man  as  for  woman ;  that  no 
other  is  sanctioned  by  Heaven  :  you  declared  it  boldly,  and 
have  maintained  it  steadily. 

"  Works  of  imagination  so  principled  came  almost  as  a  new 
doctrine,  though  it  is  and  always  was  the  Divine  law.  It 
struck  with  its  deserved  force,  and  caused  a  new  era  amongst 
us.  They  were  greedily  read  at  that  critical  juncture  of  life 
when  youth  look  for  pictures  of  that  world  in  which  they  are 
panting  to  become  actors.  With  hearts  open  to  every  impres- 
sion, and  eager  to  embrace  them,  they  are  as  ready  to  take  an 
impulse  for  their  bursting  energies  to  good  as  to  evil ;  and  if 
they. do  not  meet  the  noble  and  the  true  to  give  the  bias,  the 
false  and  the  selfish  are  ever  on  tiptoe  to  turn  the  awakening 
passions  into  their  own  career.  I  speak  by  experience  —  I 
read  your  early  works  in  my  own  youth.  Thousands  felt  the 
same  that  I  did,  and  everywhere  acknowledged  their  effect  — 

1  Even  in  eo  short  a  time  as  since  these  pages  were  written  so  far,  Miss  Agnes  Strick- 
land has  brought  out  a  second  volume  of  her  "  Queens  of  England ;  "  and  Lady  Morgan 
has  published  her  long-expected  work  of  "  Woman  and  her  Master."  It  is  a  work  that 
will  carry  her  name  to  posterity  with  respect  and  honor.  I  felicitate  her  on  the  imper- 
ishable wreath  she  has  now  attained;  and  while  thus  noting  on  the  theme  of  her  choice, 
I  cannot  but  add  another  proof  of  female  capacity  to  observe  well  and  judge  rightlv,  by 
mentioning  the  recent  works  of  Miss  Halsted  (daughter  of  the  late  gallant  Admiral  of 
that  name),  her  "  Life  of  Margaret  Beaufort,"  now  just  followed  by  a  volume  entitled 
"  The  Obligations  of  Literature  to  the  Mothers  of  England,"  for  which  historical  essay 
she  has  been  adjudged  the  Gresham  prize-medal.  I  could  linger  here,  to  dwell  on  the 
glory  of  a  land  which  has  such  merchant-princes  to  be  the  patrons  of  its  genius  and  it* 
virtues. 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xxxiii 

infusing  the  great  doctrine  of  universal  purity,  without  the 
formality  of  preaching  it ;  teaching,  in  fact,  by  examples.  Our 
Divine  Instructor  himself  set  the  model  —  he  breathed  the 
breath  of  life  into  precept  by  parables. 

"  So  dedicating  female  talents,"  added  he,  turning  to  Miss 
Agnes  Strickland,  "  is  fulfilling  the  end  for  which  they  were 
bestowed ;  a  peculiar  Christian  duty,  lady,  in  your  sex,  when 
so  endowed ;  a  grateful  debt  to  that  religion  which  alone  has 
elevated  woman  again  to  that  station  in  creation  which  she 
lost  at  the  fall."  It  was  at  the  house  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Skinner 
this  conversation  took  place.1 

Before  such  a  testimony  from  such  a  man,  a  minister  of  the 
church  of  God,  my  heart  paused  to  answer;  but  it  bo  wed  itself 
down  to  Him  who  had  given  to  my  sister  and  myself  such  a 
task.  In  fact  I  was  quite  overpowered,  and  tears  of  awed  yet 
happy  emotion  speaking  what  I  could  not  say,  my  confused 
attention  for  a  moment  or  two  ceased  to  apprehend  what  he 
further  said ;  but  the  next  succeeding  sentences  I  distinctly 
noticed  were:  "The  immortality  of  a  work,  like  the  happy 
immortality  of  the  soul,  does  not  lie  in  its  superior  faculties, 
but  in  the  use  to  which  they  are  applied  —  in  its  virtue  —  its 
power  to  move  men's  minds  to  good  thoughts  and  great  actions ; 
and  such  is  the  character  of  yours  and  your  sister's  works." 

The  suffrage  to  her  memory  was  more  welcome  than  to  my- 
self. He  discoursed  much  more  on  particulars  which  I  wish  I 
could  recite  in  their  eloquent  details,  but  I  never  can  forget 
their  import  and  impressiveness.  For  such  opinions  from  one 
whose  own  life  is  consecrated  to  the  apostolic  service  of  his 
fellow-creatures  contain  a  value  far  beyond  the  warmest  eulogy 
from  a  merely  literary  taste,  however  accomplished,  or  from 
the  most  responsive  enthusiasm  in  the  interest  of  the  tale 
alone,  however  ardent.  They  seemed  to  have  "  set  a  sacred 
seal "  upon  "  the  gracious  acceptance  "  of  our  humble  efforts. 

But  while  I  hung  on  the  words  of  this  minister  of  "  good 
will  to  mankind,"  I  could  not  but  recollect,  and  with  an  also 

1  We  are  taught  that  "  to  be  the  friend  of  strangers,  the  benefactors  of  the  poor,  the 
promoters  of  domestic  happiness  in  our  own  house  and  amongst  our  kindred  people," 
are  chief  in  the  catalogue  of  Christian  social  duties ;  and  in  so  doing  this  inestimable 
pair,  accomplished  and  kind,  strictly  obey  the  Divine  law  of  universal  beneTolence. 
Shirley  Park,  their  present  residence,  is  one  of  the  "  goodliest  spots"  in  fair  Surrey; 
and  when  far  away  I  cannot  but  often  remember  with  a  grateful  delight  the  collected 
honey  of  its  flowers,  and  the  charming  circles  often  assembled  there  to  share  the  mingled 
sweets.  Schlegel,  the  light  of  taste  in  Germany;  Niemcewicz,  the  venerable  bard  of 
Poland;  Campbell  and  Scott,  Harness  and  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  high  poets  of  our  ow» 
land ;  and  Willis  and  Fay,  sweet  minstrels  of  the  transatlantic  world;  while  Miss  Edge- 
worth,  Mrs.  Somerville,  Miss  Pardoe,  Miss  Landon,  and  Madame  Calmache,  and  other 
"  fair  lady  "names  which  adorn  our  British  literature,  both  in  London  and  the  country* 
at  successive  periods,  drew  around  the  hospitable  board. 

VOL.  I.  —  b 


xxxiv  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

grateful  feeling,  that  full  twenty-five  years  ago  my  sister  and 
myself  had  been  cheered  on  in  our  course  by  a  similar  encour- 
agement, though  fronr  the  lips  of  a  layman,  and  not  quite  in 
such  emphatic  language.  But  that  layman  was  all  that  good 
men  ought  to  revere,  the  late  Warren  Hastings,  the  persecuted 
victim  of  envy,  of  slander,  that  envy's  base  instrument,  and  of 
the  first  eloquence  in  the  land,  misled  by  "deceitful  tongues," 
which  dared  to  accuse  one  of  the  most  upright  men  that  ever 
swayed  the  sceptre  of  "  England's  Eastern  world."  But  that 
agitating  and  fearful  political  drama  has  now  all  passed  away, 
he  has  long  been  happily  removed  from  its  strife  of  "  evil 
speaking,"  to  where  the  "wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the 
weary  are  at  rest." 

Daring  our  mother's  residence  in  London,  some  years  after 
that  horrid  arena  was  closed,  we  had  the  delight  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Hastings  and  of  often  contemplating  the 
graces  of  his  mind,  bright  as  the  benevolence  which  still  shone 
out.  in  the  never-dimmed  brilliancy  of  his  eyes.  He  had  read 
the  few  works  we  had  then  published,  and  one  day  he  asked  me 
how  it  was  possible  that  persons  so  young. could  have  known 
so  much  of  the  human  heart,  and  of  the  proper  purposes  of  life 
in  men  and  women,  as  those  books  manifested. 

I  need  not  repeat  my  answer,  but  proceed  to  his  reply  on 
hearing  it. 

"  Well,  these  pretty  tales  have  already  done  much  good 
amongst  young  folk  like  yourselves,  and  the  old  will  not  be  the 
worse  for  such  pastime;  they  are  like  a  good  drama,  and  will 
live  when  the  author  and  the  present  audience  are  no  more. 
To  inculcate  worthy  things  is  the  principle  that  moves  the 
loudest  applauses  when  Shakspeare's  plays  are  acted.  It  is 
not  the  transcendent  poetry  of  his  language,  but  the  rousing 
virtue  that  language  conveys,  which  draws  down  those  bursts 
of  acclamation  to  a  word  of  patriotism  or  of  generous  feeling 
between  man  and  man.  Let  men  be  what  they  may  in  their 
common  conduct,  there  is  always  something  in  even  the  worst 
•nat  affords  a  better  hope,  giving  an  echo,  whenever  distinctly 
heard,  to  the  voice  of  truth.  See,  then,  my  young  friends,  the 
importance  of  bringing  so  excellent  a  voice  frequently  to  their 
ears,  and  of  accustoming  men's  hearts  to  hear  and  to  own  her 
laws." 

I  trust  that  as  the  republication  of  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs," 
one  of  those  works,  is  the  requested  subject  of  this  preface,  a 
few  more  respected  names  whose  acquaintance  or  friendship 
was  either  made  or  augmented  by  the  favorable  opinions 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xxxv 

formed  on  that  work  by  the  eminent  owners  of  those  names, 
—  I  trust  that  I  shall  not  be  accused  of  vanity  in  thus  ac- 
knowledging the  "  high  impresse"  to  which  my  grateful  feel- 
ings only  seek  to  pour  out  their,  perhaps,  last  oblation. 

Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie,  in  a  note  to  her  noble  poem  of  "  William 
Wallace,"  gave  her  cordial  suffrage  to  my  previous  manage- 
ment of  the  same  heroic  subject,  and  what  was  still  a  sweeter 
boon,  added  to  it  her  personal  esteem  of  the  author.  Sir 
Walter  Scott  (her  stalworth  brother  bard)  did  not  less  approve 
my  attempt  at  "  drawing  the  sword  "  of  the  Scottish  "  Gideon." 
And  it  was  as  "  a  voice  of  other  days  "  to  me,  for  the  days  of 
his  student  youth  and  of  my  childhood  had  mingled  together 
in  Edinburgh  where  our  mothers  had  been  intimate  friends. 
We  had  never  met  since  that  period  until  after  the  publication 
of  this,  one  of  my  earliest  works,  had  made  me,  in  spirit  at 
least,  revisit  Scotland  in  the  portrait  of  its  favorite  hero,  and 
which  affectionate  tribute  of  mine  had  received  a  kind  wel- 
come from  the  judgments  I  most  honored.  Need  I  say  how 
valued  was  that  of  the  poet  of  "  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel "  ? 
Some  time  after  this  our  true  lard  of  Caledonia's  fields  and 
fame  published  his  transcendent  novel  of  "  Waverley,"  and  he 
came  up  to  London  to  reap  the  laurels  of  its  far  renown. .  We 
Happened  to  be  there  at  the  time,  and  then  we  had  the  pleasure 
of  renewing  our  auld  lang  syne  remembrances  with  him,  of  his 
boyish  freaks  in  "  the  dairy  meadows  "  near  George's  Square, 
where  his  mother  lived,  and  of  the  pleasant  tale-telling  even- 
ings we  passed  under  her  kind  roof,  my  sister  being  "  a  wee  bit 
bairnie  sitting  on  a  craky  "  (a  small  stool)  by  his  side.  How  the 
heart  loves  to  dwell  on  such  memories  !  They  are  indeed  the 
soft,  refreshing  "green  of  the  soul." 

Our  visits  to  London,  after  our  first  leaving  it  for  Ditton 
(the  intermediate  distance  being  short)  were  frequent,  but 
usually  brief.  So  we  continued  to  see  many  of  our  old  ac- 
quaintances there,  and  amongst  them  Dr.  Clarke,  the  learned 
brother  of  the  traveller  of  that  name.  He  was  librarian  to 
our  then  sovereign  George  the  Fourth,  and  during  one  of 
these  our  short  residences  in  town  he  told  me  that  his 
Majesty  having  had  the  works  of  the  sister  of  Sir  Kobert 
Ker  Porter  recalled  to  his  recollection  by  the  then  recent 
publication  of  her  brother's  "Travels  in  Persia,"  etc.  (which 
were  dedicated  to  the  king),  he  took  my  early  published  vol- 
umes from  the  royal  shelf,  and  was  so  satisfied  with  the  his- 
torical fidelity  of  the  heroes  they  portrayed  that  Dr.  Clarke 
was  commanded  to  communicate  to  ine  his  Majesty's  gracious 


xxxvi  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

request  that  my  next  subject  should  be  "  The  life  of  his  great 
and  virtuous  progenitor,  Duke  Christian  of  Luneburg." 

I  could  but  obey  so  distinguishing  a  command,  and  the 
royal  goodness  soon  furnished  me  with  many  original  docu- 
ments for  the  building  up  of  my  story.  It  was  completed  near 
the  venerable  palace  where  most  of  its  English  scenes  oc- 
curred, and  when  it  was  published  I  was  honored  by  an 
assurance  from  my  gracious  sovereign  that  "  it  had  been  com- 
pleted to  his  fullest  wishes."  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs,"  Wal- 
lace and  Bruce,  were  therefore  the  authors  or  spring-tide  of 
the  Brunswick  work,  and  they  had  also  "won  me  favor" 
with  our  "sometime  royal  neighbor"  (his  late  Majesty,  our 
ever-revered,  ever-beloved  monarch,  William  the  Fourth),  who 
was  then  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  living  at  Bushy,  not  far  from 
our  little  abode  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Thames,  he 
most  condescendingly  took  a  very  encouraging  interest  in 
the  progress  of  my  task. 

"  Duke  Christian  "  was  the  last  work  I  wrote  at  Thames 
Ditton.  But  it  had  been  preceded  a  few  years  before  by  my 
"Pastor's  Fireside,"  which,  notwithstanding  its  pacific  title, 
was  a  tale  of  chivalry,  and  also  founded  on  facts  in  the  lives 
of  two  most  extraordinary  men  —  Bipperda  of  Holland  and 
Spain,  and  Duke  Wharton  of  our  own  country.  Once  when 
visiting  Eton  College,  the  students  showed  me  the  chamber 
there  where  Eipperdahad  lodged  during  his  refuge  in  England 
from  the  persecutions  of  ungrateful  Spain. 

My  sister  about  the  same  time  composed  her  romance  of 
"Don  Sebastian,  King  of  Portugal,"  also  historical!}7  true  in 
its  chief  parts  and  sympathizing  in  its  tone  with  my  occupa- 
tion, the  scenes  of  that  prince's  almost  incredible  adventures 
having  taken  place  in  the  border  kingdom  to  Spain,  and  like- 
wise on  the  same  line  of  the  opposite  African  coast  which 
had  finally  closed  the  career  of  my  Duke  de  Eipperta.  She 
wrought  up  into  the  splendid  fabric  of  her  tale  a  chivalric 
expedition  of  the  errant  King  of  Portugal  into  Persia,  into 
which  she  has  woven  much  that  relates  to  the  interesting 
brothers  Sir  Anthony  and  Robert  Shirley,  two  Englishmen 
who  were  then  dominant  in  the  court  and  camp  of  the  accom- 
plished and  valiant  Shah  Abbas.1  Our  friend  Sir  Frederick 
Eden,  of  Hampton  Court,  lent  her  an  old  and  rare  book  con- 

1  While  writing  this  Preface,  I  have  seen  a  very  admirable  sketch  of  the  biography  of 
these  distinguished  brothers,  written  by  Major-General  Briggs  from  documents  furnished 
to  him  by  Lord  Western,  a  nobleman  of  the  Shirley  family.  It  is  published  in  "  The 
Royal  Asiatic  Journal  "  for  May,  1840,  Number  x.,  p.  77.  (.Published  by  Parker,  West 
Strand.) 


RETROSPECTIVE   PREFACE.  xxxvii 

cerning  them,  which,  with  other  carefully  sought  information, 
furnished  the  grounds  on  which  her  story  was  built,  though  it 
may  justly  be  inferred  that  where  these  narratives  lacked  of 
union,  her  fully  imbued  imagination  made  up  the  deficiency, 
as  indeed  it  did  in  working  out  the  completeness  of  the  whole 
wondrous  tale  respecting  King  Sebastian  himself.  Our  excel- 
lently moral  poet,  Mr.  Southey,  in  his  long-subsequent  poem  of 
"Don  Roderick,"  has  walked  nearly  in  her  steps  over  the 
almost  similar  fate  of  that  also  peninsular  monarch. 

Soon  after  our  removal  to  Esher,  we  again  recommenced  our 
"troubadour  "  employment.  It  was  amusing  to  our  .mother  to 
hear  read  by  us  at  our  evening  tea-table  the  produce  of  our 
morning  hours,  and  we  often  benefited  by  her  clear-sighted  but 
gentle  criticisms.  She  was  the  only  person  whose  attention 
we  ever  invaded  with  a  single  word  of  our  unpublished  works. 
We  there  wrote  two  volumes,  which  were  printed  together 
under  the  united  title  of  "  Tales  Round  a  Winter  Hearth." 
My  share  was  "  The  Old  House  of  Hontercombe,  or  Berenice's 
Pilgrimage/'  in  the  geography  of  which  I  folio  wed  my  brother's 
track  in  his  Eastern  travels,  borrowing  from  his  pilgrimage  to 
ancient  Babylon  the  local  scenery  I  introduced  in  hers.  I  own 
it  is  the  story  most  interesting  to  me  that  I  ever  wrote,  for  it 
took  me  to  Mount  Olivet  and  to  Jerusalem,  along  with  my 
young  heroine.  My  sister's  moiety  in  these  volumes  were  two 
tales ;  one,  her  simply  told  sweet  "  Jeannie  Haliday,"  has 
often  been  set  in  parallel  with  our  long-lamented  friend  Lady 
Ann  Barnard's  touching  ballad  of  "  Auld  Robin  Gray."  Then 
succeeded  her  "  Honor  O'Hara,"  an  Irish  story  ;  and  my  "  Field 
of  the  Forty  Footsteps,"  a  tale  of  Cromwell's  time,  from  a 
tradition  connected  with  the  ground  near  the  London  Univer- 
sity. In  1831  my  sister  (then  in  delicate  health,  but  never  in 
brighter  looks)  published  her  novel  of  "  The  Barony,'''  full  of 
her  own  heart's  pure  and  high-toned  character ;  and  it  has 
been  called  by  those  who  knew  her  best  "  the  last  notes  of  the 
dying  and  spotless  swan ; "  for  she  never  wrote  another. 
Soon  after  its  coming  out,  our  sorrows  began :  we  lost  our 
mother,  and  within  the  year  after  that  bereavement  I  lost 
herself.1  Then  I  became  a  wanderer.  I  could  not  return  to 
abide  in  the  home  where  I  should  no  longer  find  her ;  I  could 

1  Major  Moyle  Sherer,  the  author  of  "  Recollections  in  the  Peninsula,"  "  Religio  Mili- 
tis,"  etc.,  used  to  sum  up  her  character  in  the  word  "  transparent;  "  her  countenance, 
her  manner,  her  language,  being  all  at  once  expressive  of  the  sincerity  and  purity  of  her 
soul.  His  "  chastened  "  and  "  devout  soldier-spirit  "  has  often  visited  me  by  letter  since 
I  lost  her,  with  the  same  holy  consolations  he  bestowed  on  us  both  when  we  were  be- 
reaved of  our  mother.  I  believe  this  brave  and  good  man  is  now  engaged  in  writing  the 
Life  of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  the  great  captain  of  the  Reformation. 


xxxviii  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

not  recover  any  degree  of  health  while  remaining  on  the  spot 
where  she  was  taken  from  me ;  and  my  pilgrimage,  the  point 
to  which  my  life  was  thenceforth  to  travel,  lay  far  beyond  the 
veil  of  my  own  imagining.  I  had  already  derived,  oh  !  how  much 
of  continued  earthly  happiness,  and  I  now  committed  all  to  Him 
"  who  giveth,  and  who  taketh  away  "  for  the  wisest  purposes, 
however  shrouded  they  may  be.  I  did  revisit  Esher  for  a 
brief  while  ;  but  I  soon  proceeded  thence,  not  into  a  wilderness, 
"  where  to  seek  a  shelter  and  repose,"  but  to  the  congregating 
invitations  of  friends,  meeting  me  like  gentle  spirits  from 
above,  pressing  me  to  their  homes.  One  of  these  was  not  far 
from  iny  Esher  cottage,  beautiful  Huxley,  which  looks  down 
from  a  wooded  line  of  country  still  higher  than  our  own  vil- 
lage hill.  Its  kind  inhabitants  had  been  amongst  our  most 
delighting  neighbors ;  and  I  found  a  balmy  solace  in  dwelling 
on  the  sweet  countenance  of  her  my  sister's  admiring  affection 
had  often  described  "  as  formed  to  shine  in  courts,  or  walk  the 
shade  with  innocence  and  contemplation  joined."  A  little 
farther  away  was  the  retired  abode  of  another  of  my  sister's 
most  esteemed  friends,  a  female  descendant  of  the  first  and 
great  Lord  Somers,  of  perpetually  increasing  revered  memory. 
This  lady  is  like  unto  her  noble  ancestor  in  every  great  and 
good  quality,  and  I  sought  her  society  as  I  would  have  done 
that  of  the  daughter  of  a  prophet  who  had  inherited  his  man- 
tle with  his  name. 

Time  and  space  now  press  on  me  to  close  this  perhaps 
already  too  long  preface,  else  I  could  yet  linger  in  the  recol- 
lected vicinities  of  a  place  which  recall  to  my  mind  the 
beloved  companions  of  my  life,  whose  presence  had  given  that 
place  its  dearest  charm  to  me. 

But  a  few  more  kindly  opening  gates  "  by  my  wayside  "  I 
cannot  but  stop  at,  to  set  my  grateful  mark  on,  —  that  of  the 
once  but  now  widowed  Lady  of  Clovelly,  the  friend  and  sharer 
of  my  happiest  days  — friend  indeed,  such  as  the  Bible  writes 
of,  "more  precious  than  rubies,"  —  a  treasure  that  is  "as  one's 
own  soul."  Her  heart  was  with  me  in  all  my  sorrows,  her 
sooth  ings  in  all  my  afflictions  of  mind  or  body,  up  from  the 
day  of  my  first  great  grief,  even  to  this  very  hour. 

With  her  I  had  enjoyed  the  most  halcyon  period  of  our 
sojourning  in  London,  when  a  highly  intellectual  little  band  of 
associated  friends  often  assembled  together,  something  in  the 
style  of  the  meetings  in  former  days  in  the  "  bright  saloons  " 
of  Mrs.  Montague  and  Mrs.  Vesey.  The  first  in  the  favorite 
list  was  the  late  Sir  William  Pepys,  the  amiable  Lelius  of  Mrs. 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xxxix 

Hannah  More,  and  the  beloved  disciple  in  all  that  is  excellent 
in  man  of  the  "  good  Lord  Lyttelton."  He  often  charmed  our 
circle  with  interesting  anecdotes  of  that  true  nobleman,  the 
patron  of  genius,  the  champion  of  faith  in  Christ ;  and,  as  we 
listened,  we  felt  it  was  well  said,  "  With  the  pure  thou  shalt 
be  pure ; "  for  the  disciple  had  so  "learnt  of  his  noble  master 
that  from  youth  to  age  he  never  passed  a  day  without  register- 
ing, by  applications  from  the  Psalms,  the  blessings  he  enjoyed 
in  life ;  and  when  I  by  chance  saw  the  little  diary,  when  he 
was  past  seventy  years  of  age,  I  could  not  forbear  writing  on 
its  cover  with  a  pencil,  "  The  harp  of  David  is  a  grateful 
heart."  He  also  told  us  many  pleasing  anecdotes  of  the  dis- 
tinguished ladies  above  mentioned,  for  he  had  been  a  member 
of  both  their  chosen  coteries,  and  he  called  Lady  Hamlyn 
Williams  "  a  third  sister  of  those  two  graces." 

The  late  William  Sotheby,  the  poet  of  Oberon,  and  the  last 
translator  of  the  "  Iliad,"  was  likewise  a  brother  of  our  little 
social  band,  as  were  many  other  justly  celebrated  past  as  well 
as  yet  honored  living  names.  At  his  house  in  Grosvenor  street 
I  first  saw  Lord  Byron,  whose  appearance  in  the  splendid 
drawing-room  of  his  brother  poet  was  what  might  have  been 
that  poet's  dream  of  Petrarch  in  his  prime  of  manhood,  mus- 
ing his  "  high  thoughts  "  by  moonlight ;  his  clear  and  polished 
marble-like  brow  having  that  effect  under  the  subdued  lustre 
of  the  new  kind  of  bland  lights  which  illumined  the  room. 
The  expression  of  his  countenance  too  was  mild  and  attach- 
ing, for  he  was  talking  to  a  friend  ;  there  was  no  scorn  on  his 
brow,  and  the  tones  of  his  voice  were  peculiarly  melodious. 
This  was  my  first  and  last  sight  of  Childe  Harold.  With  his 
sister,  Mrs.  Leigh,  I  afterwards  formed  a  very  prized  acquaint- 
ance. 

About  the  same  time  Madame  de  Stael  visited  England, 
and  with  her  sweet  daughter  Albertine,  fair  as  one  of  Raphael's 
Madonnas,  often  brought  a  new  and  home  delight  to  our  simple 
fireside.  Full  of  excitable  enthusiasm  herself,  for  all  the  world 
can  give  or  greatly  show,  she  frequently  praised  my  revered 
mother  for  the  retired  manner  in  which  she  maintained  her 
little  domestic  establishment,  yielding  her  daughters  to  society 
but  not  to  the  world. 

"  I  was  set  on  a  stage,"  she  said,  "  at  a  child's  age,  to  be 
listened  to  as  a  wit  and  worshipped  for  my  premature  judg- 
ment. I  drank  adulation  as  my  soul's  nourishment,  and  I  can- 
not now  live  without  its  poison.  It  has  been  my  bane,  never 
an  aliment.  My  heart  ever  sighed  for  happiness,  and  I  ever  lost 


xl  .  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

it  when  I  thought  it  approaching  my  grasp.  I  was  admired, 
made  an  idol,  but  never  beloved.  I  do  not  accuse  my  parents 
for  having  made  this  mistake,  but  I  have  not  repeated  it  on 
my  Albertine.  She  shall  not 

"  '  Seek  for  love  and  fill  her  arms  with  bays.' 

I  bring  her  up  in  the  best  society,  yet  in  the  shade." 

Her  esteem  for  my  brother,  whom  she  had  met  in  Sweden, 
brought  this  distinguished  woman  to  the  acquaintance  of  his 
family  in  England,  and  we  all  regarded  that  acquisition  as  one 
of  the  most  delightful  in  our  lives.  Some  while  afterwards  I 
met  her  celebrated  rival,  Madame  de  Genlis,  in  Paris.  But 
enough  here  of  these  stars  of  the  earth.  Were  it  a  book  of 
reminiscence  instead  of  a  mere  introduction  to  a  tale  of  cen- 
turies gone  by,  of  how  many  could  I  write  who  were  as  full  of 
public  renown  as  of  dear  familiar  associations  !  Some  have 
set  in  the  heavens,  some  yet  remain  to  shine  serenely  on  my 
evening  path.  Of  these  last,  when  the  color  of  my  life  changed 
and  I  went  about  alone,  they  appeared  in  the  cloud  and  I  felt 
their  beams.  After  quitting  Bristol  the  first  shrine  I  sought 
was  a  sacred  one,  Saint  John's,  on  the  Deeside  at  Chester ;  the 
dwelling  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Raikes,  chancellor  of  the  diocese, 
and  his  sister  (my  early  friend  of  Thames  Ditton),  now  the 
head  of  his  family,  which  consisted  of  a  daughter  and  niece ; 
and  there,  with  the  placid  cheerfulness  of  genuine  piety, 
adorned  with  every  graceful  accomplishment  of  the  female  sex, 
I  passed  many  a  day  of  soothing  peace.  Its  kind  roof  was 
also  fraught  with  a  stirring  interest  of  another  sort,  the  re- 
puted anchorite-cells  of  two  sovereigns  —  one  of  Germany,  the 
other  of  England  —  yet  remaining,  built  into  the  rock  on  which 
the  old  mansion  stands.  From  thence  I  journeyed  into  War- 
wickshire to  a  still  more  ancient  place,  Coughton-Court,  the 
abode  of  a  friendship  which  dates  from,  my  infancy.  The 
time-honored  name  of  Throckmorton  is  its  venerable  owner. 
No  Englishman  can  read  that  name  and  not  remember  that  the 
three  last  baronets  who  bore  it  were  devotedly  attached  to  the 
genius  and  virtues  of  the  poet  Cowper.  He  lived  to  nearly 
his  death  in  their  long  hereditary  village  of  Weston,  at  the 
head  of  which  stood  the  old  manorial  house,  the  almost  con- 
stant residence  of  the  family,  who  had  shed  their  cherishing 
influence  over  its  vicinage  for  upwards  of  four  centuries.  Sir 
John  and  Sir  George  Throckmorton  (the  husbands  of  the  fair 
Catherine  and  .Anna,  whose  benevolence  and  "  sweet  songs  " 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xli 

the  Western  bard  celebrates)  were  the  elder  brothers  of  the 
present  baronet,  Sir  Charles,  and  both  dying  childless  he  suc- 
ceeded them.  The  old  mansion  in  Buckinghamshire  having 
fallen  into  a  state  of  decay  not  to  be  remedied,  its  inheritor 
reluctantly  relinquished  it  as  a  residence  and  removed  to 
Coughton-Court,  a  still  more  ancient  dwelling-place  of  the 
family ;  but  having  been  built  of  stronger  materials  it  required 
comparatively  little  repair,  and  he  soon  restored  it  to  its  pris- 
tine baronial  appearance,  such  as  it  was  when  the  royal 
Henries  IV.,  V.,  VI.,  and  VIII.  were  successively  its  guests. 

His  forefather  Sir  George,  of  famous  memory,  erected  the 
present  great  gate-tower  of  his  castellated  mansion,  under  the 
especial  auspices  of  the  latter  .monarch,  whose  last  queen, 
Katherine  Parr,  was  a  niece  of  the  brave  old  knight.  But 
such  are  not  the  recollections  the  present  baronet  most  desires 
to  cherish  ;  it  is  when  the  owners  of  these  gates  from  age  to 
age  upheld  the  never-dimmed  lustre  of  their  station  as  faithful 
subjects,  kind  friends,  just  landlords,  and  generous  benefactors 
to  all  the  country  round.  Such  he  is,  venerable  in  years,  but 
still  more  venerable  by  his  virtues;  and  annual  visits  there 
during  successive  summers  have  written  all  these  beneficial 
consequences  of  an  English  country  gentleman  living  almost 
constantly  on  his  patrimonial  lands  deep  in  my  conviction, 
that  it  is  his  duty,  and  would  prove  his  best  happiness.1 

From  the  ever-revered  Throckmortoii  gates  my  next  halting- 
place  was  sometimes  at  the  English  residence  (near  Beading, 
in  Berkshire)  of  the  Dowager  Lady  Macdoiiald  Lockhart,  of 
Lee,  in  Lanarkshire,  the  mother  of  a  race  worthy  of  their 
double  ancestry.  Walter  Scott,  in  his  "  Tales  of  the  Crusades," 
has  additionally  commemorated  the  legend  of  "  The  Lee-penny," 
a  famous  amulet  which,  since  a  hero  of  the  name  brought  it 
from  the  Holy  Land,  has  been  preserved  in  the  family  as  "  a 
thing  enshrined  and  sainted,"  it  being,  they  say,  endowed 
with  thfc  power  of  healing  the  diseases  of  every  species  of 
cattle,  and  in  olden  times  also  the  plague  in  man.  But  even 
in  our  own  days  its  sanative  miracles  are  recorded  over  the 
disorders  of  the  poor  children  and  the  aged  people  in  the 
neighborhood.  But  herein,  from  my  knowledge  of  its  owners, 
I  would  say  the  belief  might  better  rest  on  the  Christian  fount 

1  During  these  visits  we  generally  made  a  tour  through  some  of  the  most  interesting 
counties  of  England,  our  little  party's  taste  perfectly  agreeing  that  it  should  always  be 
one  of  historical  guidance,  and  generally  noting  down  at  night  the  observations  of  the 
day,  for  subsequent  letters  to  my  far-absent  brother.  I  was  afterwards  invited  to  publish 
them  by  my  "  first  friend  in  the  press,"  but  I  never  found  my  then  debilitated  health 
sufficiently  strengthened  to  undertake  their  necessary  preparation.  I  regret  it  on  ac- 
count of  the  mental  delights  our  track  presented. 


xlii  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

of  charity  into  which  the  amulet  is  really  dipped,  when  the 
supposed  "  water  of  health,"  imagined  to  be  imbued  from  the 
silver-set  stone  of  the  gifted  virtue,  is  bestowed  upon  the  con- 
fiding applicant.  Ah,  how  sweet  are  the  tendril  bands  between 
the  benevolent  and  the  grateful !  How  blessed  are  they  which 
hold  the  cup  of  refreshment  to  their  lowly  brethren  in  "  their 
Lord's  vineyard !  "  And  besides  the  above  before-time  endeared 
friends,  with  whom  my  tranquil  pilgrimage  has  chiefly  glided 
on  for  nearly  ten  years,  of  how  many  more  might  I  draw  a 
similar  picture!  But  in  a  truly  Christian  country  such  char- 
acters must  be  numerous,  and  their  names  are  registered  in  a 
better  roll  than  any  human  pen  can  scribe.  Yet  it  cannot  but 
be  a  delight  to  her  to  dwell  upon  the  record,  who  has  felt  that 
throughout  the  page  of  her  mortal  existence  she  has  nothing 
else  to  recount  of  her  fellow-creatures  (at  least  of  them  with 
whom  she  has  been  concerned)  but  kindness  with  regard  to 
herself,  arid  extended  benevolence  to  others.  And  this  sin- 
cere witness  in  their  favor  occurs  most  forcibly  as  I  approach 
an  eminent  proof  of  its  verity,  —  the  remembrances  I  have 
brought  from  the  sea-coast,  where  I  recently  endured  a  long 
and  dangerous  illness,  and  a  great  part  of  it  under  the  roof  of 
another  cherishing  friend,  also  of  the  name  of  Macdonald,  a 
gentle  partner  well  worthy  of  the  name  and  heart  of  the  brave 
and  honored  veteran  now  sharing  the  high  trust  of  the  British 
army. 

When  I  alighted  at  her  door  at  Brighton,  it  was  from  hav- 
ing bidden  a  final  adieu  to  my  old  abode  at  Esher,  where, 
after  closing  its  little  gate  forever  on  myself,  I  proceeded  to 
look  my  temporary  farewell  on  the  adjacent  familiar  places, 
endeared  to  me  by  time  and  circumstances.  One,  perhaps  the 
humblest,  though  not  the  least  estimated,  was  the  sod  in  Esher 
Place  which  covers  the  remains  of  my  mother's  little  dog. 
The  attached  animal  had  literally  "  never  held  up  its  head  " 
from  the  moment  we  lost  her,  but  drooped  and  died,  and  was 
buried  (by  Mr.  Spicer's  kind  permission)  near  the  tree  she  had 
planted  at  the  foot  of  the  knoll.  The  present  cypress,  as  it 
grows,  will  shadow  the  well-remembered  spot,  and  point  to 
other  eyes,  who  respect  the  fidelity  of  the  brute  creation,  where 
lies  our  pretty  Bijou's  "  grassy  tomb." 

I  do  not  apologize  for  this  tribute  to  a  faithful  animal,  and 
particularly  of  the  class  which  has  ever  been  considered  the 
most  attached  to  man.  It  reminds  me  too  of  a  letter  from  my 
sweet  sister,  written  in  bygone  years,  containing  a  remark  very 
apposite  to  the  subject.  She  was  making  a  journey  into  a 


RETROSPECTIVE    PREFACE.  xliii 

distant  county,  and  observing  that  she  never  looked  from  the 
window  of  the  carriage  without  seeing  all  the  walkers  on  the 
road  followed  by  a  dog  of  some  kind  or  other :  "  Surely,"  added 
she,  "  when  Mr.  Pitt  laid  a  tax  upon  dogs,  it  was  like  taxing 
every  man's  friend." 

From  the  humble  sward  of  earth  that  shrouds  our  canine 
friend  I  could  not  but  lingeringly  turn  away,  and  from  other 
more  sacred  spots  also ;  though  to  them  I  trust  to  return  again, 
and  in  one  of  them  to  make  my  own  last  abode. 

The  fatigue,  etc.,  incident  to  this  Esher  visit,  which  necessity 
had  prolonged  to  two  or  three  months,  had  done  an  already 
weakened  frame  so  much  harm,  that  instead  of  the  benefit  I 
expected  from  the  bracing  air  of  Brighton,  I  was  overtaken 
within  a  fortnight  after  my  arrival  by  an  almost  fatal  illness ; 
and  during  the  remainder  of  last  autumn,  and  through  the 
whole  of  the  succeeding  winter,  I  was  held  between  life  and 
death.  Then  was  indeed  the  time  for  the  trial  of  friendship 
and  of  human  sympathy,  and  they  came  out  like  gold  from  the 
fire.  Friendship  administered  to  me  under  her  own  roof,  until 
it  became  necessary  I  should  be  nearer  to  my  physician.  Hence 
I  removed  into  lodgings,  and  there  old  friends  who  chanced  to 
be  in  Brighton,  and  new  acquaintances,  and  strangers  who  had 
never  seen  me  before,  all  crowded  to  the  door  of  my  little 
dwelling,  seeking  who  could  serve  me  most.  For  a  long  while, 
however,  I  was  not  allowed  to  hear  of,  much  less  to  admit,  any 
of  these  kind  visitors,  excepting  indeed  two  or  three,  whose 
devoted  goodness  took  it  in  turns  to  superintend  my  usual 
attendants,  and  hover  over  me  themselves  like  silent  ministers 
from  heaven.  With  these,  most  eminently,  was  still  my  dear 
Lady  Macdonald.  I  may  not  perhaps  name  all  individually 
who  came  thus  around  me  in  the  spirit  and  power  of  the  good 
Samaritan,  yet  I  cannot  refrain  from  "  em  printing"  to  myself, 
though  as  in  shadow  only,  a  few  of  these  sweet  visions  of  ever- 
waking  gratitude.  Several  were  of  the  lineage  of  my  youth's 
early  work,  The  Scottish  Chiefs  ;  the  Gordon,  the  Murray,  the 
Ker  had  their  representatives  in  all  that  was  cherishing  and 
kind.  Also  another  friend  of  sweetly-remembered  years,  the 
Dowager  Countess  of  Charleville,  who  spared  to  me,  during 
my  hours  of  suffering  and  convalescence,  her  "Daughter  of 
Goodness,"  to  be  to  me  a  daily  consolation.  I  was  visited,  too, 
at  that  season  of  "  healing  seclusion."  by  the  clerical  benevolence 
of  the  Eev.  Mr.  Cook,  Rector  of  St.  Peter's  in  Brighton  ;  and 
the  liev.  Mr.  Elliott  also  came  to  my  door  with  the  same  hal- 
lowed purpose. 


xliv  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

But  where  would  my  list  end  of  those  who  did  and  who 
sought  to  do  me  service  ?  Amongst  the  first  who  hastened  to 
smooth  my  pillow  of  sickness,  and  to  hail  its  no  longer  use, 
was  my  ever  kind  and  cheering  friend  Lady  Stepney;  also 
the  sweet  and  talented  family  of  Horace  Smith,  who,  with 
his  late  lamented  brother  James,  were  the  long-esteemed 
intimates  of  my  own  family's  former  days.  Other  respected 
and  admired  names  of  similar  goodness  I  would  fain  gratefully 
mention ;  but  I  may  not.  And  what  can  I  say  to  all  this,  but 
to  confirm  my  impression  of  the  general  principle  of  benevo- 
lence which  is  implanted  from  above  in  the  human  breast,  and 
not  to  arrogate  any  extraordinary  portion  of  this  kindliness  to 
my  own  personal  deserts  ? 

But  there  is  no  one  on  that  friendly  shore  to  whom  I  owe 
so  infinite  an  obligation  as  to  Dr.  Jefferson,  who  attended  me 
with  devoted  care  every  day  for  five  months,  and  to  Mr.  Law- 
rence, also,  who  in  his  profession  as  a  surgeon  for  the  same 
wearying  time  gave  me  his  indefatigable  attention.  My  dis- 
order early  declared  itself  to  be  dangerous  (though  not  infec- 
tious), but  it  was  of  a  nature  that  could  not  quickly  be  decided, 
and  a  long-enfeebled  constitution  had  to  contend  against  a 
malady  which  had  sometimes  speedily  brought  3ven  the  strong- 
est man  to  the  grave.  My  two  medical  iriends,  however, 
"against  hope,"  continued  to  fight  the  battle,  and,  with  heav- 
enly mercy,  they  prevailed.  On  the  26th  of  February  in  this 
year  (1840)  they  dismissed  me  from  their  professional  care, 
but  never  from  my  clinging  sense  of  gratitude ;  and  I  would 
here  have  them  accept  —  but  as  poor  thanks  for  all  I  owe  to 
them  —  this  little  tribute  to  their  skill  and  to  their  ever-patient 
watchfulness. 

And  may  I  also,  in  this  place,  beseech  that  none  of  the  dear 
and  revered  names  I  have  mentioned  in  these  pages  will  be 
offended  by  the  notice.  Why  should  it  be  that  "  virtue  will 
put  a  strange  face  on  its  own  perfection,"  —  that  beneficent 
persons  should  resist  the  precept  of  God  ?  "  Let  your  light  so 
shine  before  men  that  they  may  see  your  good  Works,  to  glorify 
your  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  How  are  good  examples 
to  be  preserved  on  earth,  if  the  names  of  "the  excellent  of  the 
earth,"  the  true  disciples  of  the  Divine  Teacher,  are  to  be  hid- 
den from  knowledge  ?  Misconstruction  and  misrepresentation, 
in  short,  envy,  slander,  and  evil-speaking,  are  rife  everywhere, 
and  will  not  be  gainsaid ;  and  why,  then,  should  the  voice  of 
commendation  be  put  to  silence  ?  But  if  it  be  an  offence,  still 


RETROSPECTIVE   PREFACE.  xlv 

in  your  own  kind  spirit,  my  good  Samaritan  friends,  "  forgive 
me  this  wrong." 

And  there  is  yet  an  illustrious  name,  the  most  illustrious  in 
the  country,  to  which  I  must  add  an  honored  subject's  grate- 
ful sense  of  its  goodness,  —  the  Queen  of  England,  who  hearing 
of  the  dangerous  illness  of  one  whom  her  gracious  youth  re- 
membered as  the  authoress  of  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs,"  etc.,  one 
who  had  dwelt  in  the  bosom  of  her  family,  near  to  the  gates 
where  her  Majesty  had  passed  her  own  interesting  childhood, 
—  to  this  now  solitary  and  lately  deeply  suffering  invalid  at 
Brighton  did  her  young  and  pitying  Queen  no  sooner  hear  of 
these  circumstances,  than  with  0116  of  those  spontaneous  feel- 
ings which,  like  a  natural  fountain,  spring  to  action  in  her 
royal  heart,  her  command  was  given  that  the  authoress  of 
works  so  read  and  approved  should,  in  that  her  perhaps  dying 
hour,  receive  proofs  of  the  value  her  gracious  sovereign  set 
upon  such  talents  so  applied.  This  was  a  testimony  to  a 
female  writer  of  England  which  could  not  but  be  of  as  dis- 
tinguishing an  estimation  in  her  breast  as  the  cross  or  the  star 
to  the  bosoms  of  the  brave  defenders  of  that  country,  whose 
weal  at  home  and  abroad  her  maiden  pen*has  ever  inculcated, 
must  rest  forever  in  its  people's  firm  support  of  the  Laws,  the 
Liberties,  and  the  Throne  of  England. 


POSTSCEIPT. 

I  have  now  to  explain,  in  few  words,  how  this  new  edition 
of  my  early  work,  after  thirty  years  from  its  first  publication 
(when  it  passed  entirely  from  my  own  possession),  comes  again 
before  the  British  public  with  my  name  as  its  renewed  intro- 
ducer ;  simply,  the  right  of  so  doing  having,  by  the  law  of 
copyright,  reverted  to  me  two  or  three  years  ago,  and  the  pres- 
ent respected  publisher  having  applied  to  me  through  the 
medium  of  a  literary  friend  (the  brilliant  and  graphic  author  of 
"  Pencillings  by  the  Way,"  and  of  other  works  alike  honorable 
to  genius  and  to  probity  of  heart)  to  sanction  the  bringing  it 
out  in  an  illustrated  form,  with  my  name  in  its  title-page,  and 
an  additional  preface  with  some  new  notes  and  a  general  re- 
vision of  the  original  text.  Though  I  had  long  grounded  my 
arms  with  regard  to  any  new  work,  I  readily  assented  to  this 
proposal  respecting  an  old  one,  and  as  soon  as  my  recovering 


xlvi  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

health  this  spring  would  permit,  I  hastened  to  thus  fulfil  my 
engagement;  and  in  having  so  done,  I  would  subscribe  myself 
to  those  who  are  yet  alive  amongst  the  indulgent  readers  of 
my  early  youth,  and  to  their  children  who  have  read,  and  to 
their  grandchildren  who  may  be  induced  to  con  hereafter,  my 
true  tale  of  former  times,  that  I  am,  with  a  tender  and  grate- 
ful remembrance  of  the  past,  and  an  affectionate  zeal  for  the 
present  rising  generation, 

Their  ever  faithfully  devoted 

JANE    PORTER.1 
SHIRLEY  PARK,  May,  1840. 

1  Soon  after  the  first  publication  of  this  work,  and  its  translation  into  German,  the 
author  was  honored  with  the  Cross  of  Lady  of  the  Teutonic  Order  of  Saint  Joachim; 
and  its  impresse  I  trust  may  be  considered  'as  reflected  in  the  book  —  DEO,  PKINCIPI, 
LE«I. 


THE 

SCOTTISH    CHIEFS 


CHAPTER   I. 

SCOTLAND. 

BRIGHT  was  the  summer  of  1296.  The  war  which  had 
desolated  Scotland  was  then  at  an  end.  Ambition  seemed 
satiated ;  and  the  vanquished,  after  having  passed  under  the 
yoke  of  their  enemy,  concluded  they  might  wear  their  chains 
in  peace.  Such  were  the  hopes  of  those  Scottish  noblemen 
who,  early  in  the  preceding  spring,  had  signed  the  bond  of 
submission  to  a  ruthless  conqueror,  purchasing  life  at  the  price 
df  all  that  makes  life  estimable,  —  liberty  and  honor. 

Prior  to  this  act  of  vassalage,  Edward  I.,  king  of  England, 
had  entered  Scotland  at  the  head  of  an  immense  army.  He 
seized  Berwick  by  stratagem ;  laid  the  country  in  ashes ;  and, 
on  the  field  of  Dunbar,  forced  the  Scottish  king  and  his  nobles 
to  acknowledge  him  their  liege  lord. 

But  while  the  courts  of  Edward,  or  of  his  representatives, 
were  crowded  by  the  humbled  Scots,  the  spirit  of  one  brave 
man  remained  unsubdued.  Disgusted  alike  at  the  facility  with 
which  the  sovereign  of  a  warlike  nation  could  resign  his  people 
and  his  crown  into  the  hands  of  a  treacherous  invader,  and  at 
the  pusillanimity  of  the  nobles  who  had  ratified  the  sacrifice, 
William  Wallace  retired  to  the  glen  of  Ellerslie.  Withdrawn 
from  the  world,  he  hoped  to  avoid  the  sight  of  oppressions  he 
could  not  redress,  and  the  endurance  of  injuries  beyond  his 
power  to  avenge. 

Thus  checked  at  the  opening  of  life  in  the  career  of  glory 
that  was  his  passion,  —  secluded  in  the  bloom  of  manhood 
from  the  social  haunts  of  men,  —  he  repressed  the  eager  aspi- 
rations of  his  mind,  and  strove  to  acquire  that  resignation  to 
inevitable  evils  which  alone  could  reconcile  him  to  forego  the 
promises  of  his  youth,  and  enable  him  to  view  with  patience 

VOL.  I.  —  1 


2  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

a  humiliation  of  Scotland,  which  blighted  her  honor,  menaced 
her  existence,  and  consigned  her  sons  to  degradation  or  ob- 
scurity. The  latter  was  the  choice  of  Wallace.  Too  noble  to 
bend  his  spirit  to  the  usurper,  too  honest  to  affect  submission, 
he  resigned  himself  to  the  only  way  left  of  maintaining  the 
independence  of  a  true  Scot ;  and  giving  up  the  world  at  once, 
all  the  ambitions  of  youth  became  extinguished  in  his  breast, 
since  nothing  was  preserved  in  his  country  to  sanctify  their 
fires.  Scotland  seemed  proud  of  her  chains.  Not  to  share  in 
such  debasement  appeared  all  that  was  now  in  his  power ;  and 
within  the  shades  of  Ellerslie  he  found  a  retreat  and  a  home, 
whose  sweets,  beguiling  him  of  every  care,  made  him  sometimes 
forget  the  wrongs  of  his  country  in  the  tranquil  enjoyments  of 
wedded  love. 

During  the  happy  months  of  the  preceding  autumn,  while 
Scotland  was  yet  free,  and  the  path  of  honorable  distinction 
still  open  before  her  young  nobility,  Wallace  married  Marion 
Braidfoot,  the  beautiful  heiress  of  Lammington.  Nearly  of 
the  same  age,  and  brought  up  from  childhood  together,  recip- 
rocal affection  had  grown  with  their  growth  ;  and  sympathy  of 
taste  and  virtues,  and  mutual  tenderness,  made  them  so  en 
tirely  one,  that  when  at  the  age  of  twenty -two  the  enraptured 
lover  was  allowed  to  pledge  that  faith  publicly  at  the  altar, 
which  he  had  so  often  vowed  in  secret  to  his  Marion,  he 
clasped  her  to  his  heart,  and  softly  whispered,  "  Dearer  than 
life  !  part  of  my  being !  blessed  is  this  union,  that  mingles  thy 
soul  with  mine,  now,  and  forever  ! " 

Edward's  invasion  of  Scotland  broke  in  upon  their  innocent 
joys.  Wallace  threw  aside  the  wedding  garment  for  the 
cuirass  and  the  sword.  But  he  was  not  permitted  long  to  use 
either :  Scotland  submitted  to  her  enemies  ;  and  he  had  no 
alternative  but  to  bow  to  her  oppressors,  or  to  become  an  exile 
from  man,  amid  the  deep  glens  of  his  country. 

The  tower  of  Ellerslie  was  henceforth  the  lonely  abode  of 
himself  and  his  bride.  The  neighboring  nobles  avoided  him, 
because  the  principles  he  declared  were  a  tacit  reproach  on 
their  proceedings ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  short  time,  as  he 
forbore  to  seek  them,  they  even  forgot  that  he  was  in  exist- 
ence. Indeed,  •  all  occasions  of  mixing  with  society  he  now 
rejected.  The  hunting-spear  with  which  he  had  delighted  to 
follow  the  flying  roebuck  from  glade  to  glade,  the  arrows 
with  which  he  used  to  bring  down  the  heavy  ptarmigan  or 
the  towering  eagle,  all  were  laid  aside.  Scottish  liberty  was 
no  more,  and  Wallace  would  have  blushed  to  have  shown 


SCOTLAND.  3 

himself  to  the  free-born  deer  of  his  native  hills  in  communion 
of  sports  with  the  spoilers  of  his  country.  Had  he  pursued 
his  once  favorite  exercises,  he  must  have  mingled  with  the 
English,  now  garrisoned  in  every  town,  and  who  passed  their 
hours  of  leisure  in  the  chase. 

Being  resigned  to  bury  his  youth,  —  since  its  strength  could 
no  longer  be  serviceable  to  his  country,  —  books,  his  harp,  and 
the  sweet  converse  of  his  tender  Marion,  became  the  occupa- 
tions of  his  days.  Ellerslie  was  his  hermitage ;  and  there, 
closed  from  the  world,  with  an  angel  his  companion,  he  might 
have  forgotten  Edward  was  lord  in  Scotland,  had  not  that 
which  was  without  his  little  paradise  made  a  way  to  its  gates, 
and  showed  him  the  slavery  of  the  nobles  and  the  wretched- 
ness of  the  people.  In  these  cases,  his  generous  hand  gave 
succor,  where  it  could  not  bring  redress.  Those  whom  the 
lawless  plunderer  had  driven  from  their  houses  or  stripped  of 
their  covering,  found  shelter,  clothing,  and  food  at  the  house 
of  Sir  William  Wallace. 

Ellerslie  was  the  refuge  of  the  friendless  and  the  comfort 
of  the  unhappy.  Wherever  Lady  Wallace  moved,  —  whether 
looking  out  from  her  window  on  the  accidental  passenger,  or 
taking  her  morning  or  moonlight  walks  through  the  glen,  lean- 
ing on  the  arm  of  her  husband,  —  she  had  the  rapture  of  hear- 
ing his  steps  greeted  and  followed  by  the  blessing  of  the 
poor  destitute,  and  the  prayers  of  them  who  were  ready  to 
perish.  It  was  then  that  this  happy  woman  would  raise  her 
husband's  hand  to  her  lips,  and,  in  silent  adoration,  thank  God 
for  blessing  her  with  a  being  made  so  truly  in  his  own  image. 

Several  months  of  this  blissful  and  uninterrupted  solitude 
had  elapsed,  when  Lady  Wallace  saw  a  chieftain  at  her  gate. 
He  inquired  for  its  master,  requested  a  private  conference, 
and  retired  with  him  into  a  remote  room.  They  remained 
together  for  an  hour.  Wallace  then  came  forth,  and  ordering 
his  horse,  with  four  followers,  to  be  in  readiness,  said  he 
meant  to  accompany  his  guest  to  Douglas  castle.  When  he 
embraced  his  wife  at -parting,  he  told  her  that  as  Douglas  was 
only  a  few  miles  distant,  he  should  be  at  home  again  before 
the  moon  rose. 

She  passed  the  tedious  hours  of  his  absence  with  tranquil- 
lity, till  the  appointed  signal  of  his  return  appeared  from  be- 
hind the  summits  of  the  opposite  mountains.  So  bright  were 
its  beams,  that  Marion  did  not  need  any  other  light  to  show  her 
the  stealing  sands  of  her  hour-glass,  as  they  numbered  the 
prolonged  hours  of  her  husband's  stay.  She  dismissed  her 


4  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

servants  to  their  rest,  all  excepting  Halbert,  the  gray-haired 
harper  of  Wallace ;  and  he,  like  herself,  was  too  unaccustomed 
to  the  absence  of  his  master  to  find  sleep  visit  his  eyes  while 
Ellerslie  was  bereft  of  its  joy  and  its  guard.  • 

As  the  night  advanced,  Lady  Wallace  sat  in  the  window 
of  her  bed-chamber,  which  looked  towards  the  west.  She 
watched  the  winding  pathway  that  led  from  Lanark  down  the 
opposite  heights,  eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  waving 
plumes  of  her  husband  when  he  should  emerge  from  behind 
the  hill,  and  pass  under  the  thicket  which  overhung  the  road. 
How  often,  as  a  cloud  obscured  for  an  instant  the  moon's 
light  and  threw  a  transitory  shade  across  the  path,  did  her 
heart  bound  with  the  thought  that  her  watching  was  at  an 
end !  It  was  he  whom  she  had  seen  start  from  the  abrupt 
rock.  They  were  the  folds  of  his  tartan  that  darkened  the 
white  cliff.  But  the  moon  again  rolled  through  her  train  of 
clouds,  and  threw  her  light  around.  Where,  then,  was  her 
Wallace  ?  Alas  !  it  was  only  a  shadow  she  had  seen ;  the  hill 
was  still  lonely,  and  he  whom  she  sought  was  yet  far  away. 
Overcome  with  watching,  expectation,  and  disappointment, 
unable  to  say  whence  arose  her  fears,  she  sat  down  again  to 
look ;  but  her  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears,  and  in  a  voice  in- 
terrupted by  sighs  she  exclaimed,  "Not  yet,  not  yet!  Ah, 
my  Wallace,  what  evil  hath  betided  thee  ?  " 

Trembling  with  a  nameless  terror,  she  knew  not  what  to 
dread.  She  believed  that  all  hostile  rencontres  had  ceased, 
when  Scotland  no  longer  contended  with  Edward.  The  nobles, 
without  remonstrance,  had  surrendered  their  castles  into  the 
hands  of  the  usurper  ;  and  the  peasantry,  following  the  exam- 
ple of  their  lords,  had  allowed  their  homes  to  be  ravaged  with- 
out lifting  an  arm  in  their  defence.  Opposition  being  over, 
nothing  could  then  threaten  her  husband  from  the  enemy ;  and 
was  not  the  person  who  had  taken  him  from  Ellerslie,  a  friend  ? 

Before  Wallace's  departure,  he  had  spoken  to  Marion  alone ; 
he  told  her  that  the  stranger  was  Sir  John  Monteith,  the 
youngest  son  of  the  brave  Walter  Lord  Monteith,1  who  had 
been  treacherously  put  to  death  by  the  English  in  the  early 
part  of  the  foregoing  year.  This  young  man  was  bequeathed 
by  his  dying  father  to  the  particular  charge  of  his  friend  Will- 
iam Lord  Douglas,  at  that  time  governor  of  Berwick.  After 

*  "Walter  Stewart,  the  father  of  Sir  John  Montekh,  assumed  the  name  and  earldom  of 
Monteith  in  right  of  his  wife,  the  daughter  and  heiress  of  the  preceding  earl.  When  his 
wife  died,  he  married  an  Englishwoman  of  rank,  who,  rinding  him  ardently  attached  to 
the  liberties  of  his  country,  cut  him  off  by  poison,  and  was  rewarded  by  the  enemies  of 
Scotland  for  this  murder  with  the  hand  of  a  British  nobleman.  —  (1809.) 


SCOTLAND.  5 

the  fall  of  that  place  and  the  captivity  of  its  defender.  Sir 
John  Monteith  had  retired  to  Douglas  castle,  in  the  vicinity 
of  Lanark,  and  was  now  the  sole  master  of  that  princely  resi- 
dence ;  James  Douglas,  the  only  son  of  its  veteran  lord,  being 
still  at  Paris,  whither  he  had  been  despatched,  before  the 
defeat  at  Dunbar,  to  negotiate  a  league  between  the  French 
monarch  and  the  then  King  of  Scots. 

Informed  of  the  privacy  in  which  Wallace  wished  to  live, 
Monteith  had  never  ventured  to  disturb  it  until  this  day ;  but 
knowing  the  steady  honor  of  his  old  school-companion,  he 
came  to  entreat  him,  by  the  respect  he  entertained  for  the 
brave  Douglas,  and  by  his  love  for  his  country,  that  he  would 
not  refuse  to  accompany  him  to  the  brave  exile's  castle. 

"I  have  a  secret  to  disclose  to  you,"  said  he,  " which  cannot 
be  divulged  on  any  other  spot." 

Unwilling  to  deny  so  small  a  favor,  Wallace,  as  has  been 
said  before,  consented,  and  accordingly  was  conducted  by 
Monteith  towards  Douglas. 

While  descending  the  heights  which  led  to  the  castle,  Mon- 
teith kept  a  profound  silence ;  and  when  crossing  the  draw- 
bridge towards  it,  he  put  his  finger  to  his  lips,  in  token  to  the 
servants  for  equal  caution.  This  was  explained  as  they  entered 
the  gate  and  looked  around.  It  was  guarded  by  English  sol- 
diers. Wallace  would  have  drawn  back,  but  Monteith  laid 
his  hand  on  his  arm  and  whispered,  "  For  your  country !  "  At 
these  words,  a  spell  to  the  ear  of  Wallace,  he  proceeded,  and 
his  attendants  followed  into  the  court-yard. 

The  sun  was  just  setting  as  Monteith  led  his  friend  into  the 
absent  earl's  room.  Its  glowing  reflection  on  the  distant  hills 
reminded  Wallace  of  the  stretch  he  had  to  retread  to  reach  his 
home  before  midnight ;  and  thinking  of  his  anxious  Marion, 
he  awaited  with  impatience  the  development  of  the  object  of 
his  journey. 

Monteith  closed  the  door,  looked  fearfully  around  for  some 
time,  then,  trembling  at  every  step,  approached  Wallace. 
When  drawn  quite  near,  in  a  low  voice  he  said,  "  You  must 
swear  upon  the  cross  that  you  will  keep  inviolate  the  secret  I 
am  going  to  reveal." 

Wallace  put  aside  the  hilt  of  the  sword  which  Monteith 
presented  to  receive  his  oath:  "No,"  said  he,  with  a  smile; 
"in  these  times  I  will  not  bind  my  conscience  on  subjects  I  da 
not  know.  If  you  dare  trust  the  word  of  a  Scotsman  and  a 
friend,  speak  outj  and  if  the  matter  be  honest,  my  honor  ia 
your  pledge." 


6  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  You  will  not  swear  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  I  must  not  trust  you." 

"  Then  our  business  is  at  an  end,"  returned  Wallace,  rising, 
"  and  I  may  return  home." 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Monteith.  "  Forgive  me,  my  old  companion, 
that  I  have  dared  to  hesitate :  these  are,  indeed,  times  of  such 
treason  to  honor,  that  I  do  not  wonder  you  should  be  careful 
how  you  swear.  But  the  nature  of  the  confidence  reposed  in 
me,  will,  I  hope,  convince  you  that  I  ought  not  to  share  it 
rashly.  Of  any  one  but  you,  whose  truth  stands  unsullied 
amidst  the  faithlessness  of  the  best,  I  would  exact  oaths  on 
oaths  ;  but  your  word  is  given,  and  011  that  I  rely.  Await  me 
here." 

Monteith  unlocked  a  door  which  had  been  concealed  by  the 
tapestry,  and  after  a  short  absence  reentered  with  a  small 
iron  box.  He  set  it  on  the  table  near  his  friend,  then  went  to 
the  great  door,  which  he  had  before  so  carefully  closed,  tried 
that  the  bolts  were  secure,  and  returned,  with  a  still  more  pal- 
lid countenance,  towards  the  table.  Wallace,  surprised  at  so 
much  precaution,  and  at  the  extreme  apprehension  visible  in 
these  actions,  awaited  with  wonder  the  promised  explanation. 
Monteith  sat  down  with  his  hand  on  the  box,  and  fixing  his 
eyes  on  it,  began  : 

"  I  am  going  to  mention  a  name  which  you  may  hear  with 
patience,  since  its  power  is  no  more.  The  successful  rival  of 
Bruce,  and  the  enemy  of  your  family,  is  now  a  prisoner  in  the 
Tower  of  London." 

"  Baliol  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Monteith;  "and  his  present  sufferings 
will,  perhaps,  avenge  to  you  his  vindictive  resentment  of 
the  injury  he  received  from  Sir  Eonald  Crawford." 

"  My  grandfather  never  injured  him,  nor  any  man,"  inter- 
rupted Wallace.  "  Sir  Ronald  Crawford  was  as  incapable  of 
injustice,  as  of  flattering  th<}  minions  of  his  country's  enemy. 
But  Baliol  is  fallen,  and  I  forgive  him." 

"Did  you  witness  his  degradation,"  returned  Monteith, 
"you  would  even  pity  him." 

"I  always  pity  the* wicked,"  continued  Wallace;  "and  as 
you  seem  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  his  enmity  against  Sir 
Ronald  and  myself,  in  justice  to  the  character  of  that  most 
venerable  of  men  I  will  explain  it.  I  first  saw  Baliol  four 
years  ago,  when  I  accompanied  my  grandfather  to  witness  the 
arbitration  of  the  King  of  England  between  the  two  contending 


SCOTLAND.  7 

claimants  for  the  Scottish  crown.  Sir  Eonald  came  on  the 
part  of  Bruce.  I  was  deemed  too  young  to  have  a  voice  in  the 
council ;  but  I  was  old  enough  to  understand  what  was  passing 
there,  and  to  perceive,  in  the  crouching  demeanor  with  which 
Baliol  received  the  crown,  that  it  was  the  price  for  which  he 
sold  his  country.  However,  as  Scotland  acknowledged  him 
sovereign,  and  as  Bruce  submitted,  my  grandfather  silently 
acquiesced.  But  Baliol  did  not  forget  former  opposition. 
His  behavior  to  Sir  Ronald  and  myself  at  the  beginning  of 
this  year,  when,  according  to  the  privilege  of  our  birth,  we 
appeared  in  the  field  against  the  public  enemy,  fully  demon- 
strated what  was  the  injury  Baliol  complains  of,  and  how  un- 
justly he  drove  us  from  the  standard  of  Scotland.  '  None/ 
said  he,  { shall  serve  under  me  who  presumed  to  declare  them- 
selves the  friends  of  Bruce.'  Poor,  weak  man  !  The  purchased 
vassal  of  England,  yet  so  vain  of  his  ideal  throne,  he  hated 
all  who  had  opposed  his  elevation,  even  while  his  own  treach- 
ery sapped  its  foundation.  Edward  having  made  use  of  him, 
all  these  sacrifices  of  honor  and  of  conscience  are  insufficient 
to  retain  his  favor,  and  Baliol  is  removed  from  his  kingdom 
to  an  English  prison.  Can  I  feel  anything  so  honoring  as 
indignation  against  a  wretch  so  abject  ?  No  !  I  do  indeed 
pity  him.  And  now  that  I  have  cleared  my  grandfather's 
name  of  such  calumny,  I  am  ready  to  hear  you  further." 

Monteith,  after  remarking  on  the  well-known  honor  of  Sir 
Ronald  Crawford,  resumed. 

"During  the  massacre  at  the  capture  of  Berwick,  Lord 
Douglas,  wounded  and  nearly  insensible,  was  taken  by  a 
trusty  band  of  Scots  out  of  the  citadel  and  town.  I  followed 
him  to  Dunbar,  and  witnessed  with  him  that  day's  dreadful 
conflict,  which  completed  the  triumph  of  the  English.  When 
the  few  nobles  who  survived  the  battle  dispersed,  Douglas 
took  the  road  to  Forfar,  hoping  to  meet  King  Baliol  there, 
and  to  concert  with  him  new  plans  of  resistance.  When  we 
arrived,  we  found  his  Majesty  in  close  conversation  with  the 
Earl  of  Athol,  who  had  persuaded  him  the  disaster  at 
Dunbar  was  decisive,  and  that  if  he  wished  to  save  his  life  he 
must  immediately  go  to  the  King  of  England,  then  at  Mont- 
rose,  and  surrender  himself  to  his  mercy.1 

"Douglas  tried  to  alter  Baliol's  resolution,  but  without 
effect.  The  king  could  not  return  any  reasonable  answers  to 
the  arguments  which  were  offered  to  induce  him  to  remain, 

1  This  treacherous  Scot,  who  persuaded  Baliol  to  his  ruin,  was  John  Cummin,  of 
fttrathbogle,  Ewl  of  Athol  in  right  of  his  wile,  the  heiress  of  that  earldom.  —  (1809J 


8  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

but  continued  to  repeat,  with  groans  and  tears, t  It  is  my  fate  ! ! 
Athol  sat  knitting  his  black  brows  during  this  conversation ; 
and,  at  last  throwing  out  some  sullen  remarks  to  Lord  Douglas, 
on  exhorting  the  king  to  defy  his  liege  lord,  he  abruptly  left 
the  room. 

"As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  Baliol  rose  from  his  seat  with 
a  very  anxious  countenance,  and  taking  my  patron  into  an 
adjoining  room,  they  continued  there  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
reentered.  Douglas  brought  with  him  this  iron  box.  f  Mon- 
teith/  said  he,  '  I  confide  this  to  your  care.'  Putting  the  box 
under  my  arm,  and  concealing  it  with  my  cloak  —  *  Carry  it/ 
continued  he,  '  directly  to  my  castle  in  Lanarkshire.  I  will 
rejoin  you  there  in  four  and  twenty  hours  after  your  arrival. 
Meanwhile,  by  your  affection  for  me  and  fidelity  to  your  king, 
breathe  not  a  word  of  what  has  passed.7 

"  '  Look  on  that,  and  be  faithful ! '  said  Baliol,  putting  this 
ruby  ring  on  my  finger.  I  withdrew  with  the  haste  his  look 
dictated,  and  as  I  crossed  the  outward  hall  was  met  by 
Athol.  He  eyed  me  sternly,  and  inquired  whither  I  was  going. 
i  replied,  '  To  Douglas,  to  prepare  for  the  coming  of  its  lord/ 
The  hall  was  full  of  armed  men  in  Athol's  colors.  Not  one 
of  the  remnant  who  had  followed  my  patron  from  the  bloody 
field  of  Dunbar  was  visible.  Athol  looked  round  on  his 
myrmidons :  i  Here/  cried  he,  '  see  that  you  speed  this  fellow 
on  his  journey.  We  shall  provide  lodgings  for  his  master/ 
I  foresaw  danger  to  Lord  Douglas,  but  I  durst  not  attempt  to 
warn  him  of  it ;  and  to  secure  my  charge,  which  a  return  to 
the  room  might  have  hazarded,  I  hastened  into  the  court-yard, 
and  being  permitted  to  mount  my  horse,  set  off  at  full  speed. 

"  On  arriving  at  this  place,  I  remembered  that  secret  closet, 
and  carefully  deposited  the  box  within  it.  A  week  passed 
without  any  tidings  of  Lord  Douglas.  At  last  a  pilgrim  ap- 
peared at  the  gate,  and  requested  to  see  me  alone :  fearing 
nothing  from  a  man  in  so  sacred  a  habit,  I  admitted  him. 
Presenting  me  with  a  packet  which  had  been  intrusted  to  him 
by  Lord  Douglas,  he  told  me  my  patron  had  been  forcibly 
carried  on  board  a  vessel  at  Montrose,  to  be  conveyed  with  the 
unhappy  Baliol  to  the  Tower  of  London.  Douglas,  on  this 
outrage,  sent  to  the  monastery  at  Aberbrothick.  and  under  the 
pretence  of  making  a  religious  confession  before  he  sailed, 
begged  a  visit  from  the  subprior.  '  I  am  that  prior/  contin- 
ued the  pilgrim ;  <  and  having  been  born  on  the  Douglas  lands, 
he  well  knew  the  claim  he  had  to  my  fidelity.  He  gave  me 
this  packet,  and  conjured  me  to  lose  no  time  in  conveying  it 


SCOTLAND.  9 

to  you.  The  task  was  difficult;  and,  as  in  these  calamitous 
seasons  we  hardly  know  whom  to  trust,  I  determined  to  exe- 
cute it  myself.' 

"I  inquired  whether  Lord  Douglas  had  actually  sailed. 
<  Yes/  replied  the  father ;  '  I  stood  on  the  beach  till  the  ship 
disappeared.' " 

A  half-stifled  groan  burst  from  the  indignant  breast  of 
Wallace.  It  interrupted  Monteith  for  an  instant,  but  without 
noticing  it,  he  proceeded. 

"Not  only  the  brave  Douglas  was  then  wrested  from  his 
country,  with  our  king,  but  also  that  holy  pillar  of  Jacob,1 
which  prophets  have  declared  to  be  the  palladium  of  Scotland." 

"  What ! "  inquired  Wallace,  with  a  yet  darker  frown,  "  has 
Baliol  robbed  Scotland  of  that  trophy  of  one  of  her  best 
kings  ?  Is  the  sacred  gift  of  Fergus  to  be  made  the  spoil  of 
a  coward  ?  " 

" Baliol  is  not  the  robber/'  rejoined  Monteith:  "the  hal- 
lowed pillar  was  taken  from  Scone  by  the  command  of  the 
King  of  England,  and  with  the  sackings  of  lona  was  carried 
on  board  the  same  vessel  with  the  betrayed  Douglas.  The 
archives  of  the  kingdom  have  also  been  torn  from  their  sanc- 
tuary, and  were  thrown  by  Edward's  own  hands  into  the  fire." 

"Tyrant!"  murmured  Wallace,  "thou  mayst  fill  the  cup 
too  full!" 

"His  depredations,"  continued  Monteith,  "the  good  monk 
told  me,  have  been  wide  as  destructive.  He  has  not  left  a 
parchment,  either  of  public  records  or  of  private  annals,  in 
any  of  the  monasteries  or  castles  around  Montrose ;  all  have 
been  searched  and  plundered.  And,  besides,  the  faithless 
Earl  of  March  and  Lord  Soulis  are  such  parricides  of  their 
country,  as  to  have  performed  the  like  robberies,  in  his  name, 
from  the  eastern  shores  of  the  Highlands  to  the  farthest  of 
the  Western  Isles."  2 

"Do  the  traitors  think,"  cried  Wallace,  "that  by  robbing 
Scotland  of  her  annals  and  of  that  stone  they  really  deprive 
her  of  her  palladium  ?  Scotland's  history  is  in  the  memories 
of  her  sons ;  her  palladium  is  in  their  hearts ;  and  Edward 

1  The  tradition  respecting  this  stone  is  as  follows :  Hiber,  or  Iber,  the  Phoenician, 
who  came  from  the  Holy  Lund,  to  inhabit  the  coast  of  Spain,  brought  this  sacred  relic 
mlong  with  him.    From  Spain  he  transplanted  it  with  the  colony  he  sent  to  people  the 
south  of  Ireland;  and  from  Ireland  it  was  brought  into  Scotland  by  the  great  Fergus, 
the  son  of  Ferchard.    He  placed  it  in  Argyleshire;  but  MacAlpine  removed  it  to  Scone, 
and  fixed  it  in  the  royal  chair  in  which  all  the  succeeding  kings  of  Scotland  were  in- 
augurated.    Edward  I.  of  England  caused  it  to  be  carried  to  Westminster  Abbey,  where 
ft  now  stands.     The  tradition  is,  that  empire  abides  where  it  stays.  —  (1809.) 

2  It  is  not  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  of  the  authorities  whence  these  notorious 
tacts  are  drawn,  as  there  is  not  a  British  historian  silent  on  the  subject.  —  (1809.) 


10  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

may  one  day  find  that  she  remembers  the  victory  of  Largs,1 
and  needs  not  talismans  to  give  her  freedom." 

"Alas!  not  in  our  time,"  answered  Monteith.  "The 
spear  is  at  our  breasts,  and  we  must  submit.  You  see  this 
castle  is  full  of  Edward's  soldiers.  Every  house  is  a  garrison 
for  England,  —  but  more  of  this  by  and  by ;  I  have  yet  to  tell 
you  the  contents  of  the  packet  which  the  monk  brought.  It 
contained  two  others.  One  directed  to  Sir  James  Douglas  at 
Paris,  and  the  other  to  me.  I  read  as  follows : 

"  '  Athol  has  persuaded  Baliol  to  his  ruin,  and  betrayed  me 
into  the  hands  of  Edward.  I  shall  see  Scotland  no  more. 
Send  the  enclosed  to  my  son  at  Paris ;  it  will  inform  him  what 
is  the  last  wish  of  William  Douglas  for  his  country.  The  iron 
box  I  confided  to  you  guard  as  your  life,  until  you  can  deposit 
it  with  my  son.  But  should  he  remain  abroad,  and  you  ever 
be  in  extremity,  commit  the  box  in  strict  charge  to  the 
worthiest  Scot  you  know ;  and  tell  him  that  it  will  be  at  the 
peril  of  his  soul,  who  dares  to  open  it,  till  Scotland  be  again 
free!  When  that  hour  comes,  then  let  the  man  by  whose 
valor  God  restores  her  rights,  receive  the  box  as  his  own ; 
for  by  him  only  is  it  to  be  opened.  DOUGLAS/  ?; 

Monteith  finished  reading  the  letter,  and  remained  silent. 
Wallace,  who  had  listened  to  it  with  increasing  indignation 
against  the  enemies  of  Scotland,  spoke  first :  "  Tell  me  in 
what  I  can  assist  you,  or  how  serve  these  last  wishes  of  the 
imprisoned  Douglas." 

Monteith  replied  by  reading  over  again  this  sentence, 
"  t  Should  my  son  remain  abroad,  and  you  ever  be  in  extremity, 
commit  the  box  in  strict  charge  to  the  worthiest  Scot  you 
know.'  I  am  in  that  extremity  now.  Edward  determined  on 
desolation  when  he  placed  English  governors  throughout  our 
towns ;  and  the  rapacious  Heselrigge,  his  representative  in 
Lanark,  not  backward  to  execute  the  despot's  will,  has  just 
issued  an  order  for  the  houses  of  all  the  absent  chiefs  to  be 
searched  for  records  and  secret  correspondences.  Two  or  three 
in  the  neighborhood  have  already  gone  through  this  ordeal ; 
but  the  event  has  proved  that  it  was  not  papers  they  sought, 
but  plunder,  and  an  excuse  for  dismantling  the  castles,  or  oc- 
cupying them  with  English  officers. 

lfThis  battle  was  fought  by  Alexander  III.  on  the  1st  of  August,  1263,  against  Acho, 
King  of  Norway.  That  monarch  invaded  Scotland  with  a  large  army,  and  drew  up  his 
forces  before  Large,  a  town  in  Ayrshire.  He  met  with  a  great  defeat,  and,  covered  with 
disgrace,  retired  to  his  own  country.  Wallace's  father  signalized  himself  on  that  field 
—  (1809.) 


SCOTLAND.  11 

"  The  soldiers  you  saw  were  sent,  by  daybreak  this  morning, 
fco  guard  this  castle  until  Heseluigge  could  in  person  be  pres- 
ent at  the  examination.  This  ceremony  is  to  take  place 
to-morrow ;  and  as  Lord  Douglas  is  considered  a  traitor  to 
Edward,  I  am  told  the  place  will  be  sacked  to  its  walls.  In 
such  an  extremity,  to  you,  noble  Wallace,  as  to  the  worthiest 
Scot  I  know,  I  apply  to  take  charge  of  this  box.  Within  the 
remote  cliffs  of  Ellerslie  it  must  be  safe ;  and  when  James 
Douglas  arrives  from  Paris,  to  him  you  will  resign  it.  Mean- 
while, as  I  cannot  resist  the  plunderers,  after  delivering  th'e 
keys  of  the  state  apartments  to  Heselrigge  to-morrow,  I  shall 
submit  to  necessity,  and  beg  his  permission  to  retire  to  my 
lodge  on  Ben  Venn." 

Wallace  made  no  difficulty  in  granting  Monteith's  request ; 
and,  there  being  two  iron  rings  on  each  side  of  his  charge,  the 
young  chief  took  off  his  leathern  belt,  and  putting  it  through 
them,  swung  the  box  easily  under  his  left  arm,  while  covering 
it  with  his  plaid. 

Monteith5  s  eyes  now  brightened,  the  paleness  left  his 
cheek,  and  with  a  firmer  step,  as  if  suddenly  relieved  of  a 
heavy  load,  he  called  a  servant  to  prepare  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace's attendants. 

While  Wallace  shook  him  by  the  hand,  Monteith,  in  a  low 
and  solemn  voice,  exhorted  him  to  caution  respecting  the  box. 
"  Remember,"  added  he,  "  the  penalty  that  hangs  over  him 
who  looks  into  it." 

•  "  Be  not  afraid,"  answered  Wallace ;  "  even  the  outside  shall 
never  be  seen  by  other  eyes  than  my  own,  unless  the  same  cir- 
cumstance which  now  induces  you,  mortal  extremity,  should 
force  me  to  confide  it  to  safer  hands." 

"  Beware  of  that !  "  exclaimed  Monteith ;  "  for  who  is  there 
that  would  adhere  to  the  prohibition  as  I  have  done  —  as  you 
will  do  ?  and  besides,  as  I  have  no  doubt  it  contains  holy 
relics,  who  knows  what  new  calamities  a  sacrilegious  look 
might  bring  upon  our  already  devoted  country  ?  " 

"Relics  or  no  relics,"  replied  Wallace,  "it  would  be  an 
equal  sin  against  good  faith  to  invade  what  is  forbidden ;  but 
from  the  "weight  I  am  rather  inclined  to  suspect  it  contains 
gold,  probably  a  treasure  with  which  the  sordid  Baliol  thinks 
to  compensate  the  hero  who  may  free  his  country  for  all  the 
miseries  a  traitor  king  and  a  treacherous  usurper  have  brought 
upon  it." 

"A  treasure,"  repeated  Monteith;  "I  never  thought  of 
thafcj  it  is  indeed  heavy  j  and  as  we  are  responsible  for 


12  THE   SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  contents  of  the  box,  I  wish  we  were  certain  of  what  it  con- 
tains ;  let  us  consider  that." 

"  It  is  no  consideration  of  ours,"  returned  Wallace.  "  With 
what  is  in  the  box  we  have  no  concern :  all  we  have  to  do  is 
to  preserve  the  contents  unviolated  by  even  our  own  eyes ;  and 
to  that,  as  you  have  now  transferred  the  charge  to  me,  I 
pledge  myself,  —  farewell ! " 

"  But  why  this  haste  ?  "  rejoined  Monteith ;  "  indeed,  I  wish 
I  had  thought  —  stay  only  a  little." 

'"I  thank  you,"  returned  Wallace,  proceeding  to  the  court- 
yard ;  "  but  it  is  now  dark,  and  I  promised  to  be  at  home  be- 
fore the  moon  rises.  If  you  wish  me  to  serve  you  further,  I 
shall  be  happy  to  see  you  at  Ellerslie  to-morrow.  My  Marion 
will  have  pleasure  in  entertaining,  for  days  or  weeks,  the 
friend  of  her  husband." 

While  Wallace  spoke  he  advanced  to  his  horse,  to  which  he 
was  lighted  by  the  servants  of  the  castle.  A  few  English  sol- 
diers lingered  about  in  idle  curiosity.  As  he  put  his  foot  in 
the  stirrup,  he  held  the  sword  in  his  hand,  which  he  had  un- 
buckled from  his  side  to  leave  space  for  his  charge.  Monteith, 
whose  dread  of  detection  was  ever  awake,  whispered,  "  Your 
loosened  weapon  may  excite  suspicion."  Fear  incurred  what 
it  sought  to  avoid.  He  hastily  pulled  aside  Wallace's  plaid  to 
throw  it  over  the  glittering  hilt  of  the  sword,  and  thus  ex- 
posed the  iron  box.  The  light  of  the  torches  striking  upon 
the  polished  rivets,  displayed  it  to  all  lookers  on,  but  no  re- 
mark was  made.  Wallace,  not  observing  what  was  done, 
again  shook  hands  with  Monteith,  and  calling  his  servants 
about  him  galloped  away.  A  murmur  was  heard,  as  if  of 
some  intention  to  follow  him ;  but  deeming  it  prudent  to  leave 
the  open  and  direct  road,  because  of  the  English  marauders 
who  swarmed  there,  he  was  presently  lost  amid  the  thick 
shades  of  Clydesdale. 

CHAPTER   II. 

LANARK. 

THE  darkness  was  almost  impenetrable.  Musing  on  what 
had  passed  with  Monteith,  and  on  the  little  likelihood  of  any 
hero  appearing,  who,  by  freeing  his  country,  could  ever  claim 
the  privilege  of  investigating  the  mystery  which  was  now  his 
care,  Wallace  rode  on,  till,  crossing  the  bridge  of  Lanark,  he 


LANARK.  13 

saw  the  rising  moon  silver  the  tops  of  the  distant  hills,  and 
then  his  meditations  embraced  a  gentler  subject.  This  was 
the  time  he  had  promised  Marion  he  should  be  returned,  and 
he  had  yet  five  long  miles  to  go  before  he  could  reach  the 
glen  of  Ellerslie.  He  thought  of  her  being  alone  —  of  watch- 
ing, with  an  anxious  heart,  the  minutes  of  his  delay.  Scotland 
and  its  wrongs  he  now  forgot,  in  the  idea  of  her  whose  happi- 
ness was  dearer  than  life.  He  could  not  achieve  the  deliver- 
ance of  the  one,  but  it  was  his  bliss  to  preserve  the  peace  of 
the  other;  and  putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  under  the  now 
bright  beams  of  the  moon  he  hastened  through  the  town. 

Abruptly  turning  an  angle  leading  to  the  Mouse  river,  a  cry 
of  murder  arrested  his  ear.  He  checked  his  horse  and  listened. 
The  clashing  of  arms  told  him  the  sound  had  issued  from  an 
alley  to  the  left.  He  alighted  in  an  instant,  and  drawing  his 
sword,  threw  away  the  scabbard  (prophetic  omen  !)  ;  then,  leav- 
ing his  horse  with  one  of  his  servants,  hastened,  with  the  other 
three,  to  the  spot  whence  the  noise  proceeded. 

On  arriving,  he  discovered  two  men  in  tartans,  with  their 
backs  to  the  opposite  wall,  furiously  assaulted  by  a  throng  of 
Edward's  soldiers.  At  this  sight,  the  Scots  who  accompanied 
Wallace  were  so  enraged  that,  blowing  their  bugles  to  en- 
courage the  assailed,  they  joined  hand  to  hand  with  their 
gallant  leader,  and  attacking  the  banditti,  each  man  cut  his 
opponent  to  the  Aground. 

Such  unexpected  assistance  reanimated  the  drooping  strength 
of  one  of  the  two,  from  whom  the  cry  had  issued.  He  sprang 
from  the  wall  with  the  vigor  of  a  tiger,  but  at  the  moment 
received  a  wound  in  his  back,  which  would  have  thrown  him 
at  the  feet  of  his  enemies,  had  not  Wallace  caught  him  in  his 
left  arm,  and  with  his  right  cleared  the  way,  while  he  cried  to 
his  men  who  were  fighting  near  him,  "  To  the  glen ! "  As 
he  spoke,  he  threw  the  now  insensible  stranger  into  their 
arms.  The  other  man,  whose  voice  had  first  attracted  Wallace, 
at  that  instant  sunk,  covered  with  blood,  on  the  pavement. 

Two  of  the  servants,  obeying  their  master,  carried  their 
senseless  burden  towards  the  horses ;  but  the  third,  being 
hemmed  in  by  the  furious  soldiers,  could  not  move.  Wallace 
made  a  passage  to  his  rescue,  and  effected  it;  but  one  base 
wretch,  while  the  now  wounded  Scot  was  retreating,  made 
a  stroke  which  would  have  severed  his  head  from  his  body, 
had  not  the  trusty  claymore  !  of  Wallace  struck  down  the 
pending  weapon  of  the  coward,  and  received  his  rushing  body 

1  Claymore,  an  aucient  Scottish  sword. 


14  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

upon   its   point.     He    fell   with,    bitter   imprecations,   calling 
aloud  for  vengeance. 

A  dreadful  cry  was  now  raised  by  the  whole  band  of  assas- 
sins :  "  Murder !  treason !  Arthur  Heselrigge  is  slain ! " 
The  uproar  became  general.  The  windows  of  the  adjoining 
houses  were  thrown  open ;  people  armed  and  unarmed  issued 
from  their  doors,  and  pressed  forward  to  inquire  the  cause  of 
the  alarm.  Wallace  was  nearly  overpowered;  a  hundred 
swords  flashed  in  the  torchlight ;  but  at  the  moment  he  ex- 
pected they  would  be  sheathed  in  his  heart,  the  earth  gave 
way  under  his  feet,  and  he  sunk  into  iitter  darkness. 

He  fell  upon  a  quantity  of  gathered  broom  ;  and  concluding 
that  the  weight  of  the  thronging  multitude  had  burst  his  way 
through  the  arch  of  a  cellar,  he  sprung  on  his  feet :  and  though 
he  heard  the  curses  of  several  wretches,  who  had  fallen  with 
him  arid  fared  worse,  he  made  but  one  step  to  a  half-opened 
door,  pointed  out  to  him  by  a  gleam  from  an  inner  passage. 
The  men  uttered  a  shout  as  they  saw  him  darken  the  light 
which  glimmered  through  it,  but  they  were  incapable  of 
pursuit ;  and  Wallace,  aware  of  his  danger,  darting  across  the 
adjoining  apartment,  burst  open  a  window,  and.  leaped  out  at 
the  foot  of  the  Lanark  hills. 

The  oaths  of  the  soldiers,  enraged  at  his  escape,  echoed  in 
his  ears  till  distance  sunk  them  into  hoarse  murmurs.  He 
pursued  his  way  over  the  craigs,  through  the  valley,  and 
across  the  river,  to  the  cliffs  which  embattle  the  garden  of 
Ellerslie.  Springing  on  the  projecting  point  of  the  nearest, 
he  leaped  into  a  thicket  of  honeysuckles.  This  was  the 
favorite  bower  of  his  Marion.  The  soft  perfume  as  it 
saluted  his  senses  seemed  to  breathe  peace  and  safety,  and 
as  he  emerged  from  its  fragrant  embrace  he  walked  with  a 
calmer  step  towards  the  house.  He  approached  a  door  which 
led  into  the  garden.  It  was  open.  He  beheld  his  beloved 
leaning  over  a  couch,  on  which  was  laid  the  person  he  had 
rescued.  Halbert  was  dressing  his  wounds. 

Wallace  paused  for  a  moment,  to  contemplate  his  lovely 
wife  in  this  more  lovely  act  of  charity.  Her  beautiful  hands 
held  a  cup  to  the  lips  of  the  stranger ;  while  her  long  hair, 
escaped  from  its  band,  fell  in  jetty  ringlets,  and  mingled  with 
his  silver  locks. 

"  Marion ! "  exclaimed  the  overflowing  soul  of  her  husband. 
She  looked  up  at  the  well-known  sound,  and  with  a  cry  of  joy. 
rushing  forward,  threw  herself  into  his  arms:  her  tears 
flowed,  she  sobbed,  she  clung  to  his  breast.  It  was  the  first 


LANARK.  15 

time  Wallace  had  been  from  her;  she  had  feared  it  would 
have  been  the  last.  The  hour  —  the  conflict  —  the  bleeding 
stranger!  But  now  he  was  returned — he  was  safe  ! 

"  A/t  thou  indeed  here  ?  "  exclaimed  she.  Blood  fell  from 
his  forehead  upon  her  face  and  bosom.  "  0  my  Wallace ! " 
cried  she,  in  agony. 

"  Fear  not,  my  love !  all  is  well,  since  our  wounded  country- 
man is  ssafe." 

"  But  you  bleed,"  returned  she.  No  tears  now  impeded 
her  voice.  Terror  had  checked  their  joyful  currents,  and  she 
felt  as  if  she  expected  his  life-blood  to  issue  from  the  wound 
on  which  she  gazed. 

"  I  hope  my  preserver  is  not  hurt  ?  "  inquired  the  stranger. 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  replied  Wallace,  putting  back  the  hair  from  his 
forehead ;  "  a  mere  trifle.7'  That  the  action  had  discovered 
the  gash  to  be  wider  than  he  thought,  he  saw  in  the  counte- 
nance of  his  wife.  She  turned  deadly  pale.  "  Marion,"  said 
he,  "  to  convince  you  how  causeless  your  fears  are,  you  shall 
cure  me  yourself,  and  with  no  other  surgery  than  your 
girdle." 

When  Lady  Wallace  heard  his  gay  tone,  and  saw  the  un- 
forced smiles  on  his  lips,  she  took  courage ;  and,  remembering 
the  deep  wounds  of  the  stranger,  which  she  had  assisted  to 
dress,  without  any  alarm  for  his  life,  she  began  to  hope  that 
she  need  not  now  fear  for  the  object  dearest  to  her  in  exist- 
ence. Rising  from  her  husband's  arms,  with  a  languid  smile 
she  unbound  the  linen  fillet  from  her  waist ;  and  Halbert  hav- 
ing poured  some  balsam  into  the  wound,  she  prepared  to  apply 
the  bandage  ;  but  when  she  lifted  her  husband's  hair  from  his 
temple,  — that  hair  w'hich  had  so  often  been  the  object  of  her 
admiration,  as  it  hung  in  shining  masses  over  his  arching 
brows,  —  when  the  clotted  blood  met  her  fingers,  a  mist 
seemed  to  pass  over  her  sight :  she  paused  for  a  moment ;  but 
rallying  her  strength,  as  the  cheerful  sound  of  his  voice 
conversing  with  his  guest  assured  her,  fear  was  groundless, 
she  tied  the  fillet ;  and,  stealing  a  soft  kiss  on  his  cheek 
when  she  had  finished,  she  seated  herself,  yet  trembling,  by 
his  side. 

"  Gallant  Wallace  !  "  continued  the  stranger,  —  agitation  had 
prevented  her  hearing  what  had  preceded  this,  —  "  it  is  Donald, 
Earl  of  Mar,  who  owes  his  life  to  you." 

"  Then  blest  be  my  arm,"  exclaimed  Wallace,  "  that  has  pre- 
served a  life  so  precious  to  my  country  !  " 

"  May  it  indeed  be  blest ! "  cried  Lord  Mar  ;  "  for  this  night 


16  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

it  has  made  the  Southrons  !  feel  there  is  yet  one  man  in  Scot- 
land who  does  not  fear  to  resist  oppression  and  to  punish 
treachery." 

"  What  treachery  ? "  inquired  Lady  Wallace,  her  alarmed 
spirit  still  hovering  about  her  soul's  far  dearer  part :  "  is  any 
meant  to  my  husband  ?  " 

"  None  to  Sir  William  Wallace,  more  than  to  any  other  brave 
Scot,"  replied  the  earl ;  "  but  we  all  see  the  oppression  of  our 
country,  we  all  know  the  treachery  by  which  it  was  subju- 
gated, and  this  night,  in  my  own  person,  I  have  felt  the 
effects  of  both.  The  English  at  Lanark  despatched  a  body  of 
men  to  Bothwell  castle  (where  my  family  now  are)  on  a  plea, 
that  as  its  lord  is  yet  absent,  they  presume  he  is  adverse  to 
Edward,  and  therefore  they  must  search  his  dwelling  for  docu- 
ments to  settle  the  point.  Considering  myself  the  representa- 
tive of  my  brother-in-law,  Lord  Bothwell,  and  suspecting  that 
this  might  be  only  a  private  marauding  party,  I  refused  to 
admit  the  soldiers  ;  and  saw  them  depart,  swearing  to  return 
the  next  day  with  a  stronger  force,  and  storm  the  castle.  To 
be  ascertained  of  their  commission,  and  to  appeal  against  such 
unprovoked  tyranny,  should  it  be  true,  I  followed  the  detach- 
ment to  Lanark. 

"I  saw  Heselrigge,  the  governor.  He  avowed  the  transac- 
tion, but  awed  by  the  power  which  he  thinks  I  possess  in  the 
country,  he  consented  to  spare  Bothwell  while  I  and  my  family 
remain  in  it.  It  being  nearly  dark,  I  took  my  leave,  and  was 
proceeding  towards  my  servants  in  the  court-yard  when  a 
young  man  accosted  me.  I  recognized  him  to  be  the  officer 
who  had  commanded  the  party  I  had  driven  from  the  castle. 
Heselrigge  having  told  me  that  he  was  his  nephew,  I  made  no 
hesitation  to  go  back  with  him,  when  he  informed  me  his  uncle 
had  forgotten  something  of  importance,  and  begged  me  to  re- 
turn. I  followed  his  steps ;  but  instead  of  conducting  me  to 
the  room  in  which  I  had  conversed  with  Heselrigge,  he  led  me 
along  a  dark  passage  into  a  small  apartment,  where,  telling  me 
Ms  uncle  would  attend  me,  he  suddenly  retreated  out  of  the 
door,  and  before  I  could  recollect  myself  I  heard  him  bolt  it 
after  him. 

"I  now  saw  myself  a  prisoner;  and  alarmed  at  what  might 
be  intended  to  my  defenceless  family,  I  made  every  essay  to 
force  the  door,  but  it  was  in  vain.  Driven  to  despair,  I 
remained  in  a  state  of  mind  not  to  be  described,  when  the  bolt 

1  Southrons  and  Saxons  were  the  common  appellations  with  which  the  Scots  denomi- 
nated the  invading  armies  of  Edward  I.:  they  wore  chiefly  composed  of  Irish  cad 
Weigh,  and  foraignera.  —  (1800.) 


LANARK.  17 

was  undrawn,  and  two  men  entered,  with  manacles  in  their 
hands.  They  attempted  to  seize  me,  telling  me  I  was  the  pris- 
oner of  King  Edward.  I  did  not  listen  further,  but  wounding 
one  with  my  dagger,  felled  the  other  to  the  ground;  and, 
darting  past  him,  made  my  way  through  what  passages  I  can- 
not tell,  till  I  found  myself  in  a  street  leading  from  behind  the 
governor's  house.  I  ran  against  some  one  as  I  rushed  from  the 
portal ;  it  was  my  servant  Neil.  I  hastily  told  him  to  draw 
his  sword  and  follow  me.  We  then  hurried  forward,  he  tell- 
ng  me  he  had  stepped  out  to  observe  the  night,  while  the  rest 
jf  my  men  were  awaiting  me  in  the  house,  wondering  at  my 
delay, 

"Rejoiced  at  my  escape,  and  fearing  the  worst  of  conse- 
quences from  the  treachery  of  Heselrigge,  I  was  hastening 
onward,  determined  to  pursue  my  way  on  foot  to  the  protection 
of  my  family,  when,  at  the  turning  of  an  angle  which  leads  to 
the  Bothwell  road  we  were  suddenly  surrounded  by  armed 
men.  The  moon  shone  full  on  their  faces,  and  I  discovered 
they  were  Southrons,  and  that  young  Heselrigge  was  at  their 
head. 

"  He  aimed  a  blow  at  my  head  with  his  battle-axe,  and  in  a 
voice  of  triumph  exclaimed  to  his  soldiers,  '  The  plunder  of 
Bothwell,  my  lads!  Down  with  its  lord!  all  but  the  lady 
Helen  shall  be  yours  ! ' 

"In  a  moment  every  sword  was  directed  towards  me. 
They  wounded  me  in  several  places ;  but  the  thought  of  my 
daughter  gave  supernatural  vigor  to  my  arm,  and  I  defended 
myself  till  the  cries  of  my  servant  brought  you,  my  brave 
deliverer,  to  my  rescue.  But,  while  I  am  safe,  perhaps  my 
treacherous  pursuer  has  marched  towards  Bothwell,  too  sure 
to  commit  the  horrid  violence  he  meditates :  there  are  none  to 
guard  my  child  but  a  few  domestics,  the  unpractised  sword 
of  my  stripling  nephew,  and  the  feeble  arms  of  my  wife." 

"  Be  easy  on  that  head,'7  interrupted  Wallace ;  "  I  believe 
the  infamous  leader  of  the  banditti  fell  by  my  hand,  for  the 
soldiers  made  an  outcry  that  Arthur  Heselrigge  was  killed ; 
and  then  pressing  on  me  to  take  revenge,  their  weight  broke  a 
passage  into  a  vault,  through  which  I  escaped  —  " 

"  Save,  save  yourself,  my  master ! "  cried  a  man  rushing  in 
from  the  garden.  "  You  are  pursued  —  " 

While  he  spoke  he  fell  insensible  at  Wallace's  feet.  It  was 
"Dugald,  whom  he  had  rescued  from  the  blow  of  Heselrigge, 
and  who,  from  the  state  of  his  wound,  had  been  thus  long  in 
reaching  Ellerslie. 

VOL.  I.  — 2 


18  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Wallace  had  hardly  time  to  give  him  to  the  care  of  Halbert 
when  the  voice  of  war  assailed  his  ears.  The  tumult  of  men 
demanding  admittance,  and  the  terrific  sound  of  spears  rat- 
tling against  the  shields  of  their  owners,  told  the  astonished 
group  within  that  the  house  was  beset  by  armed  foes. 

"  Blood  for  blood  !  "  cried  a  horrid  voice,  which  penetrated 
the  almost  palsied  senses  of  Lady  Marion.  "  Vengeance  on 
Wallace  for  the  murder  of  Heselrigge  ! " 

"  Fly,  fly ! "  cried  she,  looking  wildly  at  her  husband. 

"Whither?"  answered  he,  supporting  her  in  his  arms, 
^  Would  this  be  a  moment  to  leave  you  and  our  wounded 
guest  ?  I  must  meet  them.'7 

"  Not  now,"  cried  Lord  Mar.  "  Hear  you  not  how  numerous 
they  are  ?  Mark  that  shout ;  they  thirst  for  blood.  If  you 
have  love,  pity,  for  your  wife,  delay  not  a  moment.  Again  —  " 

The  uproar  redoubled,  and  the  room  was  instantly  filled 
with  shrieking  women,  in  their  night-clothes,  the  attendants  of 
Lady  Wallace.  She  lay,  almost  expiring,  on  her  husband's 
breast. 

"  0  my  lord  !  "  cried  the  terrified  creatures,  wringing  their 
hands,  "  what  will  become  of  us !  The  Southrons  are  at  the 
gates,  and  we  shall  be  lost  forever." 

"  Fear  not,"  replied  Wallace  ;  "  retire  to  your  chambers.  I 
am  the  person  they  seek  :  none  else  will  meet  with  injury." 

Appeased  by  this  assurance,  the  women  retreated  to  their 
apartments ;  and  Wallace,  turning  to  the  earl,  who  continued 
to  enforce  the  necessity  of  his  flight,  repeated  that  he  would 
not  consent  to  leave  his  wife  in  such  a  tumult. 

"  Leave  me,"  cried  she,  in  an  inarticulate  voice,  "  or  see  me 
die." 

As  she  spoke,  there  was  a  violent  crash. and  a  tremendous 
burst  of  imprecations.  Three  of  Wallace's  men  ran  panting 
into  the  room.  Two  of  the  assailants  had  climbed  to  the  hall 
window,  and  had  just  been  thrown  back  upon  the  cliffs, 
where  one  was  killed.  "  Conceal  yourself,"  said  the  Scots  to 
Wallace,  "  for  in  a  few  minutes  more  your  men  will  not  be 
able  to  maintain  the  gates." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  lord,"  cried  Halbert,  "  there  is  the  dry  well 
at  the  end  of  the  garden ;  at  the  bottom  of  that  you  will  be 
safe," 

"By  your  love  for  me,  Wallace,  by  all  you  owe  to  the 
tender  affections  of  your  grandfather,  hearken  to  him ! "  cried 
Lady  Marion,  falling  at  his  feet  and  clasping  his  knees.  "  I 
kneel  for  my  life  in  kneeling  for  yours.  Pity  the.  gray  hairs 


LANARK  19 

of  Sir  Konald,  whom  your  untimely  death  would  Lring  to  ^he 
grave.  Pity  your  unborn  child.  Fly,  Wallace,  if  you  would 
have  me  live  ! "  She  was  pale  and  breathless. 

"Angel  of  my  life!"  exclaimed  Wallace,  straining  her  to 
his  heart,  "  I  obey  thee.  But  if  the  hand  of  one  of  these 
desperate  robbers  dares  to  touch  thy  hallowed  person  — " 

"  Think  not  so,  my  lord,"  interrupted  Halbert ;  "  it  is  you 
they  seek.  Not  finding  you,  they  will  be  too  eager  in  pursuit 
to  molest  your  lady." 

"  I  shall  be  safe,"  whispered  Marion  ;  "  only  fly  —  while  you 
are  here,  their  shouts  kill  me." 

"  But  thou  shalt  go  with  me,"  returned  he ;  "  the  well  will 
contain  us  all.  But  first  let  our  faithful  Halbert  and  these 
honest  fellows  lower  Lord  Mar  into  the  place  of  refuge.  He 
being  the  cause  of  the  affray,  if  discovered,  would  be  immedi- 
ately sacrificed." 

Lord  Mar  acquiesced ;  and  while  the  contention  was  so  loud 
without  as  to  threaten  the  tearing  down  of  the  walls,  the  earl 
was  carried  into  the  garden.  He  was  followed  by  Sir  William 
Wallace,  to  whose  arm  his  wife  yet  fondly  clung.  At  every 
cry  of  the  enemy,  at  every  shoe1!  they  gave  to  his  yet  impreg- 
nable gates,  she  breathed  the  shorter,  and  was  clasped  by  the 
lord  of  her  heart  still  more  closely  to  his  bosom. 

At  the  well-side  they  found  the  earl  bound  with  the  rope 
that  was  to  lower  him  to  the  bottom.  By  great  care  it  was 
safely  done  ;  and  the  cord  being  brought  up  again,  before  it 
was  tied  round  Wallace  (for  his  agonized  wife  insisted  he 
should  descend  next)  he  recollected  that  the  iron  box  at  his 
side  might  hurt  the  wounded  nobleman  by  striking  him  in  his 
descent;  and,  unbuckling  it,  he  said  it  contained  matters  of 
great  value,  and  ordered  it  to  be  lowered  first. 

Lord  Mar,  beneath,  was  releasing  it  from  the  rope  when 
a  shout  of  triumph  pierced  their  ears.  A  party  of  the  English, 
having  come  round  the  heights,  had  leaped  the  wall  of  the 
garden,  and  were  within  a  few  yards  of  the  well.  For  Wallace 
to  descend  now  was  impossible.  "That  tree!"  whispered 
Marion,  pointing  to  an  oak  near  which  they  stood.  As  she 
spoke,  she  slid  from  his  arms,  and,  along  with  the  venerable 
Halbert,  who  had  seized  her  hand,  disappeared  amid  the  ad- 
joining thicket.  The  two  servants  fled  also. 

Wallace,  finding  himself  alone,  the  next  instant,  like  one  of 
his  native  eagles,  was  looking  down  from  the  towering  top  of 
the  wood  upon  his  enemies.  They  passed  beneath  him,  de< 
nouncing  vengeance  upon  the  assassin  of  Arthur  Heselrigge. 


20  THE    SCOTTISH   CHIEFS. 

One,  who  by  the  brightness  of  his  armor  seemed  to  be  their 
leader,  stopped  under  the  tree,  and  complained  he  had  so 
sprained  his  ankle  in  leaping  the  wall,  he  must  wait  a  few 
minutes  to  recover  himself.  Several  soldiers  drew  towards 
him ;  but  he  ordered  them  to  pursue  their  duty,  search  the 
house,  and  bring  Wallace,  dead  or  alive,  before  him. 

They  obeyed ;  but  others,  who  had  gained  admittance  to  the 
tower  through  the  now  forced  gates,  soon  ran  to  him  with  in- 
formation that  the  murderer  could  nowhere  be  found. 

"But  here  is  a  gay  ladle"  cried  one;  "perhaps  she  can  tell 
of  his  hiding-place."  And  at  that  moment  Marion,  with  Hal- 
bert,  appear  jd  amongst  a  band  of  men.  The  lighted  torches 
which  the  soldiers  held  shone  full  on  her  face.  Though  pale 
as  monumental  marble,  the  exquisite  beauty  of  her  features 
and  the  calm  dignity  which  commanded  from  her  eyes  awed 
the  officer  into  respect  and  admiration.  / 

"  Soldiers,  stand  back ! "  cried  he,  advancing  to  Lady  Wal- 
lace. "Fear  not,  madam."  As  the  words  passed  his  lips  a 
flight  of  arrows  flew  into  the  bosom  of  the  tree.  A  piercing 
shriek  from  Marion  was  her  only  answer.  "  Hah  !  my  lady's 
falcon ! "  cried  Halbert,  alarmed,  doubly,  for  the  fate  of  his 
master.  A  sudden  agitation  of  the  branches  having  excited 
an  indefinite  suspicion  in  a  body  of  archers  who  stood  near, 
with  one  impulse  they  had  discharged  their  arrows  to  the 
spot.  Halbert's  ready  excuse,  both  for  the  disturbance  in  the 
tree  and  his  lady's  shriek,  was  prompted  and  warranted  true 
by  the  appearance  of  a  large  bird,  which  the  rushing  of  the 
arrows  had  frighted  from  her  nest :  she  rose  suddenly  from 
amongst  the  branches,  and  soared  away,  far  to  the  east,  with, 
loud  screams. 

All  being  again  still,  Marion  hoped  that  her  husband  had 
ascaped  any  serious  injury  from  the  arrows ;  and  turning  with 
recovered  composure  to  the  officer,  heard  him  with  a  glow  of 
comfort  reprimand  his  men  for  daring  to  draw  their  bows 
without  his  orders.  Then  addressing  her,  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
madam,"  said  he,  "  both  for  the  alarm  these  hot-headed  men 
have  occasioned  you,  and  for  the  violence  they  have  committed 
in  forcing  one  of  your  sex  and  beauty  before  me.  Had  I  ex- 
pected to  have  found  a  lady  here,  I  should  have  issued  orders 
to  have  prevented  this  outrage ;  but  I  am  sent  hither  in  quest 
of  Sir  William  Wallace,  who  by  a  mortal  attack  made  on  the 
person  of  the  Governor  of  Lanark's  nephew,  has  forfeited  his 
life.  The  scabbard  of  his  sword,  found  beside  the  murdered 
Heselrigge,  is  an  undeniable  proof  of  his  guilt.  Direct  u»  <;o 


LANARK.  21 

find  him,  and  not  only  release,  but  the  favor  of  the  English 
monarch  will  await  your  allegiance." 

"  I  am  Sir  William  Wallace's  wife,"  returned  the  gentle 
Marion,  in  a  firm  tone ;  "  and  by  what  authority  you  seek  him 
thus,  and  presume  to  call  him  guilty,  I  cannot  understand." 

"By  the  authority  of  the  laws,  madam,  which  he  has 
violated." 

"What  laws?"  rejoined  she;  "Sir  William  Wallace  ae 
knowledges  none  but  those  of  God  and  his  country.  Neither 
of  these  has  he  transgressed." 

The  officer  replied,  "This  night  he  assassinated  Arthur 
Heselrigge  in  the  streets  of  Lanark,  and  that  condemns  him, 
by  the  last  declaration  of  King  Edward :  Whatever  Scot 
maltreats  any  one  of  the  English  soldiers,  or  civil  officers,  garri- 
soned in  the  towns  of  Scotland,  shall  thereby  forfeit  his  life  as 
the  penalty  of  his  crime" 

"  A  tyrant's  law,  sir,  to  which  no  f reeborn  Scot  will  submit. 
But  even  were  it  allowed  by  my  countrymen,  in  this  case  it 
can  have  no  hold  on  my  husband.  That  he  is  a  Scot,  he 
glories ;  and  not  that  he  maltreated  any  Englishman  in  the 
streets  of  Lanark,  do  I  glory,  but  because,  when  he  saw  two 
defenceless  men  borne  down  by  a  band  of  armed  soldiers,  he 
exposed  his  unshielded  breast  in  their  defence :  one  of  the  two 
died,  covered  with  wounds.  That  the  governor's  nephew  also 
fell  was  a  just  retribution  for  his  heading  so  unequal  a  con- 
test, and  no  crime  in  Sir  William  Wallace ;  for  he  slew  him  to 
preserve  a  feeble  old  man,  who  had  a  hundred  English  swords 
levelled  at  his  life." 

The  officer  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  ordered  his 
coldiers  to  fall  farther  back ;  when  they  were  at  a  sufficient 
distance,  he  offered  to  take  Lady  Wallace's  hand.  She  with 
stood  his  motion  with  a  reserved  air,  and  said,  "  Speak;  sir; 
what  you  would  say,  or  allow  me  to  retire." 

"  I  mean  not  to  offend  you,  noble  lady,"  continued  he  ;  "  had 
I  a  wife  lovely  as  yourself,  and  I  in  like  circumstances,  I  hope 
in  the  like  manner  she  would  defend  my  life  and  honor.  I 
knew  not  the  particulars  of  the  affair  in  which  Arthur  Hesel- 
rigge fell  till  I  heard  them  from  your  lips.  I  can  easily  credit 
them,  for  I  know  his  unmanly  character.  Wallace  is  a  Scot, 
and  acted  in  Scotland  as  Gilbert  Hambledon  would  have  done 
in  England,  were  it  possible  for  any  vile  foreigner  there  to  put 
his  foot  upon  the  neck  of  a  countryman  of  mine.  Wherever 
you  have  concealed  your  husband,  let  it  be  a  distant  asylum, 


22  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

At  present  no  track  within  the  jurisdiction  of  Lanark  will  be 
left  unsearched  by  the  governor's  indefatigable  revenge." 

Lady  Wallace,  overcome  with  gratitude  at  this  generous 
speech  of  the  English  officer,  uttered  some  inarticulate  words, 
expressive  more  in  sound  than  clearness,  of  her  grateful  feel- 
ings. Hambledon  continued:  "I  will  use  my  influence  with 
Heselrigge  to  prevent  the  interior  of  your  house  being  dis- 
turbed again ;  but  it  being  in  the  course  of  military  operations, 
I  cannot  free  you  from  the  disagreeable  ceremony  of  a  guard 
being  placed  to-morrow  morning  round  the  domains.  This  I 
know  will  be  done  to  intercept  Sir  William  Wallace,  should  he 
attempt  to  return." 

"  Oh  that  he  were  indeed  far  distant ! "  thought  the  anxious 
Marion.  The  officer  then  added :  "  However,  you  shall  be  re- 
lieved of  my  detachment  directly."  And  as  he  spoke  he  waved 
his  sword  to  them  who  had  seized  the  harper.  They  advanced, 
still  holding  their  prisoner.  He  ordered  them  to  commit  the 
man  to  him,  and  to  sound.  The  trumpeter  obeyed,  and  in  a 
few  seconds  the  whole  detachment  were  assembled  before  their 
commander. 

"Soldiers,"  cried  he,  "Sir  William  Wallace  has  escaped 
our  hands.  Mount  your  horses,  that  we  may  return  to  Lanark, 
and  search  the  other  side  of  the  town.  Lead  forth,  and  I  will 
follow." 

The  troops  obeyed,  and  falling  back  through  the  opened 
gates,  left  Sir  Gilbert  Hambledon  alone  with  Lady  Wallace 
and  the  wondering  Halbert.  The  brave  young  man  took  the 
now  no  longer  withdrawn  hand  of  the  grateful  Marion,  who 
had  stood  trembling  while  so  many  of  her  husband's  mortal 
enemies  were  assembled  under  the  place  of  his  concealment. 

"  Noble  Englishman,"  said  she,  as  the  last  body  of  soldiers 
passed  from  her  sight,  "  I  cannot  enough  thank  you  for  this 
generous  conduct ;  but  should  you  or  yours  be  ever  in  the  like 
extremity  with  my  beloved  Wallace  (and  in  these  tyrannous 
times  what  brave  spirit  can  answer  for  its  continued  safety?), 
may  the  ear  which  has  heard  you  this  night,  at  that  hour  re- 
pay my  gratitude ! " 

"  Sweet  lady,"  answered  Hambledon,  "  I  thank  you  for  your 
prayer.  God  is  indeed  the  benefactor  of  a  true  soldier ;  and 
though  I  serve  my  king  and  obey  my  commanders,  yet  it  is 
only  to  the  Lord  of  battles  that  I  look  for  a  sure  reward.  And 
whether  he  pay  me  here  with  victories  and  honors,  or  take 
my  soul  through  a  rent  in  my  breast  to  receive  my  laurel  in 
paradise,  it  is  all  one  to  Gilbert  Hambledon.  But  the  night 


LANARK,  23 

is  cold :  I  must  see  you  safe  within  your  own  doors,  and  then, 
lady,  farewell ! " 

Lady  Wallace  yielded  to  the  impulse  of  his  hand,  and  with 
redoubled  haste,  as  she  heard  another  rustling  in  the  tree 
above  her  head.  Hambledon  did  not  notice  it,  but  desiring 
Halbert  to  follow,  in  a  few  minutes  disappeared  with  the  agi- 
tated Marion  into  the  house. 

Wallace,  whose  spirit  could  ill  brook  the  sight,  of  his 
lomains  filled  with  hostile  troops,  and  the  wife  of  his  bosom 
brought  a  prisoner  before  their  commander,  would  instantly 
have  braved  all  dangers  and  have  leaped  down  amongst  them ; 
but  at  the  instant  he  placed  his  foot  on  a  lower  bough  to  make 
a  spring,  the  courteous  address  of  Hambledon  to  his  wife  had 
made  him  hesitate.  He  listened  to  the  replies  of  his  Marion 
with  exultation ;  and  when  the  Englishman  ordered  his  men 
to  withdraw,  and  delivered  himself  so  generously  respecting 
the  safety  of  the  man  he  came  to  seize,  Wallace  could  hardly 
prevent  a  brave  confidence  in  such  virtue  from  compelling 
him  to  come  from  his  concealment  and  thank  his  noble  enemy 
011  the  spot.  But  a  consideration  that  such  disclosure  would 
put  the  military  duty  and  the  generous  nature  of  the  officer  at 
variance,  he  desisted  with  such  an  agitation  of  spirits  that  the 
boughs  had  again  shaken  under  him,  and  reawakened  the 
alarm  of  his  trembling  wife. 

u  Omnipotent  Virtue !  "  exclaimed  Wallace  to  himself,  "  if 
it  were  possible  that  thy  generous  spirit  could  animate  the 
breast  of  an  invading  conqueror,  how  soon  would  the  van- 
quished cease  to  forget  their  former  freedom,  and  learn  to  love 
their  vassalage  \  This  man's  nobleness,  how  soon  has  it 
quenched  the  flame  of  vengeance  with  which,  when  I  ascended 
this  tree,  I  prayed  for  the  extirpation  of  every  follower  of 
Edward ! " 

"  Sir  William  !  my  master  ! "  cried  a  well-known  voice,  in  a 
suppressed  tone,  as  if  still  fearful  of  being  overheard.  It  was 
Halbert's.  "  Speak,  my  dear  lord  ;  are  you  safe  ?  " 

"In  heart  and  body,"  returned  Wallace,  sliding  from  the 
tree  and  leaping  on  the  ground.  "  One  only  of  the  arrows 
touched  me,  and  that  merely  striking  my  bugle,  fell  back 
amongst  the  leaves.  I  must  now  hasten  to  the  dearest,  the 
noblest  of  women.'7 

Halbert  begged  him  to  stay  till  they  should  hear  the  retreat 
from  the  English  trumpets.  "  Till  their  troops  are  out  of 
sight,"  added  he,  "  I  cannot  believe  you  safe." 

"  Hark ! "  cried  Wallace,  "  the  horses  are  now  descending  the 


24  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

craig.  That  must  satisfy  you,  honest  Halbert."  With  these 
words  he  flew  across  the  grass,  and  entering  the  house,  met  the 
returning  Marion,  who  had  just  bade  farewell  to  Hambledon. 
She  rushed  into  his  arms,  and  with  the  excess  of  a  disturbed 
and  uncertain  joy  fainted  on  his  neck.  Her  gentle  spirit  had 
been  too  powerfully  excited  by  the  preceding  scenes.  Unac- 
customed to  tumult  of  any  kind,  and  nursed  in  the  bosom  of 
fondness  till  now,  no  blast  had  blown  on  her  tender  form,  no 
harshness  had  ever  ruffled  the  blissful  serenity  of  her  mind. 
What,  then,  was  the  shock  of  this  evening's  violence  !  Her 
husband  pursued  as  a  murderer;  herself  exposed  to  the  mid- 
night air,  and  dragged  by  the  hands  of  merciless  soldiers  to 
betray  the  man  she  loved.  All  these  scenes  were  new  to  her  ; 
and  though  a  kind  of  preternatural  strength  had  supported  her 
through  them,  yet  when  the  cause  of  immediate  exertion  was 
over,  when  she  fell  once  more  into  her  husband's  extended 
arms,  she  seemed  there  to  have  found  again  her  shelter,  and 
the  pillow  whereon  her  harassed  soul  might  repose. 

"  My  life  !  my  best  treasure  !  preserver  of  thy  Wallace  !  look 
on  him  !  "  exclaimed  he ;  "  bless  him  with  a  smile  from  those 
dear  eyes." 

His  voice,  his  caresses,  soon  restored  her  to  sensibility  and 
recollection.  She  wept  on  his  breast,  and  with  love's  own 
eloquence  thanked  Heaven  that  he  had  escaped  the  search  and 
the  arrows  of  his  enemies. 

"  But,  my  dear  lady,"  interrupted  Halbert,  "  remember  my 
master  must  not  stay  here.  You  know  the  English  commander 
said  he  must  fly  far  away.  Nay,  spies  may  even  now  be  lurk- 
ing to  betray  him." 

"  You  are  right,"  cried  she.  i(  My  Wallace,  you  must  depart. 
Should  the  guard  arrive  soon,  your  flight  may  be  prevented. 
You  must  go  now  —  but,  oh  !  whither  ?  " 

"Not  very  distant,  my  love.  In  going  from  thee  I  leave 
behind  all  that  makes  life  precious  to  me ;  how  then  can  I  go 
far  away  ?  No ;  there  are  recesses  among  the  Cartlane  craigs 
I  discovered  while  hunting,  and  which  I  believe  have  been 
visited  by  no  mortal  foot  but  my  own.  There  will  I  be,  my 
Marion,  before  sunrise ;  and  before  it  sets,  thither  must  you 
send  Halbert,  to  tell  me  how  you  fare.  Three  notes  from  thine 
own  sweet  strains  of  Thusa  ha  measg  na  reultan  mor,1  blown 
by  his  pipe,  shall  be  a  sign  to  me  that  he  is  there,  and  I  will 
co  tie  forth  to  hear  tidings  of  thee." 

1  Thusa  hn  meatff  net  reultan,  mnr,  etc.,  are  the  beginning  words  of  an  old  Gaelic 
ditty,  the  English  of  which  rune  thus  : 

"  Thou  who  art  amid  the  stars,  move  to  thy  bed  with  music,"  etc.  — (1809.) 


LANARK,  25 

"  Ah,  my  Wallace,  let  me  go  with  thee ! " 

"  What,  dearest ! "  returned  he,  "  to  live  amidst  rocks  and 
streams !  to  expose  thy  tender  self  and  thy  unborn  infant  to 
all  the  accidents  of  such  a  lodging  !  " 

"  But  are  not  you  going  to  so  rough,  so  dangerous  a  lodg- 
ing ? "  asked  she.  "  Oh !  would  not  rocks  and  streams  be 
heaven's  paradise  to  me,  when  blessed  with  the  presence  of 
iny  husband  ?  Ah,  let  me  go !  " 

"  Impossible,  my  lady,"  cried  Halbert,  afraid  that  the 
melting  heart  of  his  master  would  consent,  "you  are  safe 
here,  and  your  flight  would  awaken  suspicion  in  the  English 
that  he  had  not  gone  far.  Your  ease  and  safety  are  dearer  to 
him  than  his  own  life ;  and  most  likely  by  his  cares  to  pre- 
serve them  he  would  be  traced,  and  so  fall  a  ready  sacrifice 
to  the  enemy." 

"  It  is  true,  my  Marion ;  I  could  not  preserve  you  in  the 
places  to  which  I  go." 

"  But  the  hardships  you  will  endure  !  "  cried  she ;  "  to  sleep 
on  the  cold  stones,  with  no  covering  but  the  sky  or  the 
dripping  vault  of  some  dreary  cave.  I  have  not  courage  to 
abandon  you  alone  to  such  cruel  rigors." 

"  Cease,  my  beloved,"  interrupted  he ;  "  cease  these  ground- 
less alarms.  Neither  rocks  nor  storms  have  any  threats  to  me. 
It  is  only  tender  woman's  cares  that  make  man's  body  deli- 
cate. Before  I  was  thine,  my  Marion,  I  have  lain  whole  nights 
upon  the  mountain's  brow,  counting  the  wintry  stars,  as  I  im- 
patiently awaited  the  hunter's  horn  that  was  to  recall  me  to 
the  chase  in  Glenfinlass.  Alike  to  Wallace  is  the  couch  of 
down  or  the  bed  of  heather ;  so,  best  beloved  of  my  heart, 
grieve  not  at  hardships  which  were  once  my  sport,  and  wil? 
now  be  my  safety." 

"  Then  farewell !  May  good  angels  guard  thee  ! "  Her  voice 
failed ;  she  put  his  hand  to  her  lips. 

"  Courage,  my  Marion,"  said  he ;  "  remember  that  Wallace 
lives  but  in  thee.  Revive,  be  happy  for  my  sake,  and  God, 
who  putteth  down  the  oppressor,  will  restore  me  to  thine 
arms."  She  spoke  not,  but  rising  from  his  breast  clasped  her 
hands  together,  and  looked  up  with  an  expression  of  fervent 
prayer;  then  smiling  through  a  shower  of  tears,  she  waved 
her  hand  to  him  to  depart,  and  instantly  disappeared  into  her 
own  chamber. 

Wallace  gazed  at  the  closed  door,  with  his  soul  in  his  eyes. 
To  leave  his  Marion  thus,  to  quit  her  who  was  the  best  part 
of  his  being,  who  seemed  the  very  spring  of  the  life  now 


26  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

throbbing  in  his  heart,  was  a  contention  with  his  fond,  fond 
love,  almost  too  powerful  with  his  resolution.  Here  indeed 
his  brave  spirit  gave  way ;  and  he  would  have  followed  her, 
and  perhaps  have  determined  to  await  his  fate  at  her  side,  had 
not  Halbert,  reading  his  mind  in  his  countenance,  taken  him 
by  the  arm  and  drawn  him  towards  the  portal. 

Wallace  soon  recovered  his  better  reason,  and  obeying  the 
friendly  impulse  of  his  servant,  accompanied  him  through  the 
garden  to  the  quarter  which  pointed  towards  the  heights  that 
led  to  the  remotest  recesses  of  the  Clyde.  In  their  way  they 
approached  the  well  where  Lord  Mar  lay.  Finding  that  the 
earl  had  not  been  inquired  for,  Wallace  deemed  his  stay  to  be 
without  peril ;  and  intending  to  inform  him  of  the  necessity 
which  still  impelled  his  own  flight,  he  called  to  him,  but  no 
voice  answered.  He  looked  down,  and  seeing  him  extended 
on  the  bottom,  without  motion,  "I  fear,"  said  he,  "  the  earl  is 
dead.  As  soon  as  I  am  gone,  and  you  can  collect  the  dispersed 
servants,  send  one  into  the  well  to  bring  him  forth ;  and  if  he 
be  indeed  no  more,  deposit  his  body  in  my  oratory,  till  you  can 
receive  his  widow's  commands  respecting  his  remains.  The 
iron  box  now  in  the  well  is  of  inestimable  value :  take  it  to 
Lady  Wallace,  and  tell  her  she  must  guard  it  as  she  has  done 
my  life ;  but  not  to  look  into  it,  at  the  peril  of  what  is  yet 
dearer  to  her,  —  my  honor." 

Halbert  promised  to  adhere  to  his  master's  orders ;  and 
Wallace,  girding  on  his  sword,  and  taking  his  hunting-spear 
(with  which  the  care  of  his  venerable  domestic  had  provided 
him),  he  pressed  the  faithful  hand  that  presented  it,  and  again 
enjoining  him  to  be  watchful  of  the  tranquillity  of  his  lady, 
and  to  send  him  tidings  of  her  in  the  evening,  to  the  cave  near 
the  Corie  Lynn,  he  climbed  the  wall,  and  was  out  of  sight  in 
an  instant. 


CHAPTEK   III. 

ELLERSLIE. 

HALBERT  returned  to  the  house,  and  entering  the  room 
softly,  into  which  Marion  had  withdrawn,  beheld  her  on  her 
knees  before  a  crucifix :  she  was  praying  for  the  safety  of  her 
husband. 

"  May  he,  0  gracious  Lord  !  "  cried  she,  "  soon  return  to  his 
home.  But  if  I  am  to  see  him  here  no  more,  oh,  may  it  please 
Thee  to  grant  me  to  meet  him  within  thy  arms  in  heaven ! " 


ELLERSLIE.  27 

"  Hear  her,  blessed  Son  of  Mary  !  "  ejaculated  the  old  man. 
She  looked  round,  and  rising  from  her  knees,  demanded  of 
him,  in  a  kind  but  anxious  voice,  whether  he  had  left  her  lord 
in  security. 

"  In  the  way  to  it,  my  lady,"  answered  Halbert.  He  re- 
peated all  that  Wallace  had  said  at  parting,  and  then  tried  to 
prevail  on  her  to  go  to  rest.  "  Sleep  cannot  visit  my  eyes 
this  night,  my  faithful  creature,"  replied  she  ;  "  my  spirit  will 
follow  Wallace  in  his  mountain  flight.  Go  you  to  your  cham- 
ber. After  you  have  had  repose,  that  will  be  time  enough 
to  revisit  the  remains  of  the  poor  earl,  and  to  bring  them 
with  the  box  to  the  house.  I  will  take  a  religious  charge  of 
both,  for  the  sake  of  the  dear  intruster." 

Halbert  persuaded  his  lady  to  lie  down  on  the  bed,  that  her 
limbs  at  least  might  rest  after  the  fatigue  of  so  harassing  a 
night ;  and  she,  little  ^suspecting  that  he  meant  to  do  otherwise 
than  to  sleep  also,  kindly  wished  him  repose,  and  retired. 

Her  maids,  during  the  late  terror,  had  dispersed,  and  were 
nowhere  to  be  found ;  and  the  men  too,  after  their  stout  resist- 
ance at  the  gates,  had  all  disappeared  —  some  fled,  others  were 
sent  away  prisoners  to  Lanark,  while  the  good  Hambledon  was 
conversing  with  their  lady.  Halbert  therefore  resigned  him- 
self to  await  with  patience  the  rising  of  the  sun,  when  he 
hoped  some  of  the  scared  domestics  would  return ;  if  not,  he 
determined  to  go  to  the  cotters  who  lived  in  the  depths  of  the 
glen  and  bring  some  of  them  to  supply  the  place  of  the  fugi- 
tives, and  a  few,  with  stouter  hearts,  to  guard  his  lady. 

Thus  musing,  he  sat  on  a  stone  bench  in  the  hall,  watching 
anxiously  the  appearance  of  that  orb  whose  setting  beams  he 
hoped  would  light  him  back  with  tidings  of  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace to  comfort  the  lonely  heart  of  his  Marion.  All  seemed  at 
peace.  Nothing  was  heard  but  the  sighing  of  the  trees  as 
they  waved  before  the  western  window  which  opened  towards 
the  Lanark  hills.  The  morning  was  yet  gray,  and  the  fresh 
air  blowing  in  rather  chilly,  Halbert  rose  to  close  the  wooden 
shutter  j  at  that  moment  his  eyes  were  arrested  by  a  party  of 
armed  men  in  quick  march  down  the  opposite  declivity.  In  a 
few  minutes  more  their  heavy  steps  sounded  in  his  ears,  and 
he  saw  the  platform  before  the  house  filled  with  English. 
Alarmed  at  the  sight,  he  was  retreating  across  the  apartment, 
towards  his  lady's  room,  when  the  great  hall-door  was  burst 
open  by  a  band  of  soldiers,  who  rushed  forward  and  seized 
him. 

"  Tell  me,  dotard !  "  cried  their  leader,  a  man  of  low  stature, 


28  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

with  gray  locks  but  a  fierce  countenance,  "where  is  the  mur- 
derer  ?  Where  is  Sir  William  Wallace  ?  Speak,  or  the  torture 
shall  force  yoa !" 

Halbert  shuddered,  but  it  was  for  his  defenceless  lady,  not 
for  himself.  "  My  master,"  said  he,  "  is  far  from  this." 

«  Where  ?  " 

"I  know  nou." 

"  Thou  shall,  be  made  to  know,  thou  hoary-headed  villain  ! JJ 
cried  the  same  violent  interrogator.  "  Where  is  the  assassin's 
wife  ?  I  will  confront  ye.  Seek  her  out." 

At  that  word  the  soldiers  parted  right  and  left,  and  in  a 
moment  afterwards  three  of  them  appeared  with  shouts, 
bringing  in  the  trembling  Marion. 

"  Alas,  my  ]ady  ! "  cried  Halbert,  struggling  to  approach 
her,  as  with  terrified  apprehension  she  looked  around  her  ; 
but  they  held  her  fast,  and  he  saw  her  led  up  to  the  merciless 
wretch  who  had  given  the  orders  to  have  her  summoned. 

"  Woman  ! "  cried  he,  "  I  am  the  Governor  of  Lanark.  You 
now  stand  before  the  representative  of  the  great  King  Ed  ward, 
and  on  your  allegiance  to  him,  and  on  the  peril  of  your  life,  I 
command  you  to  answer  me  three  questions.  Where  is  Sir 
William  Wallace,  the  murderer  of  my  nephew  ?  Who  is  that 
old  Scot  for  whom  my  nephew  was  slain  ?  He  and  his  whole 
family  shall  meet  my  vengeance  !  And  tell  me  where  is  that 
box  of  treasure  which  your  husband  stole  from  Douglas  castle  ? 
Answer  me  these  questions  on  your  life." 

Lady  Wallace  remained  silent. 

"  Speak,  woman !  "  demanded  the  governor.  "  If  fear  cannot 
move  you,  know  that  I  can  reward  as  well  as  avenge.  I  will 
endow  you  richly,  if  you  declare  the  truth.  If  you  persist  to 
refuse,  you  die." 

"  Then  I  die,"  replied  she,  scarcely  opening  her  half -closed 
eyes,  as  she  leaned,  fainting  and  motionless,  against  the  soldier 
who  held  her. 

"  What ! "  cried  the  governor,  stifling  his  rage,  in  hopes  to 
gain  by  persuasion  on  a  spirit  he  found  threats  could  not 
intimidate,  "  can  so  gentle  a  lady  reject  the  favor  of  England ; 
large  grants  in  th  is  country,  and  perhaps  a  fine  English  knight 
for  a  husband,  when  you  might  have  all  for  the  trifling  service 
of  giving  up  a  traitor  to  his  liege  lord,  and  confessing  where 
his  robberies  lie  concealed  ?  Speak,  fair  dame  ;  give  me  this 
information,  and  the  lands  of  the  wounded  chieftain  whom 
Wallace  brought  here,  with  the  hand  of  the  handsome  Sir 
Gilbert  Hambledon,  shall  be  your  reward.  Kich,  and  a  beauty 


ELLERSLIE.  29 

tn  €d\rard's  court !    Lady,  can  you  now  refuse  to  purchase  all, 
by  declaring  the  hiding-place  of  the  traitor  Wallace  ?  " 

u  It  is  easier  to  die." 

*  "  Fool  r "  cried  Heselrigge,  driven  from  his  assumed  temper 
by  her  steady  denial.  "  What !  Is  it  easier  for  these  dainty 
limbs  to  be  hacked  to  pieces  by  my  soldiers'  axes  ?  Is  it  easier 
for  that  fair  bosom  to  be  trodden  under  foot  by  my  horses' 
hoofs ;  and  for  that  beauteous  head  of  thine  to  decorate  my 
lance  ?  Is  all  this  easier  than  to  tell  me  where  to  find  a. 
murderer  and  his  gold  ?  " 

Lady  Wallace  shuddered :  she  stretched  her  hands  to 
heaven. 

"  Speak  once  for  all !  "  cried  the  enraged  governor,  drawing 
his  sword;  ••  I  am  no  waxen-hearted  Hambledon,  to  be  cajoled 
by  your  beauty.  Declare  where  Wallace  is  concealed,  or 
dread  my  vengeance." 

The  horrid,  steel  gleamed  across  the  eyes  of  the  unhappy 
Marion  ;  unable  to  sustain  herself,  she  sunk  on  the  ground. 

"Kneel  not  to  me  for  mercy  !  "  cried  the  fierce  wretch ; 
"I  grant  none,  unless  you  confess  your  husband's  hiding- 
place." 

A  momentary  strength  darted  from  the  heart  of  Lady 
Wallace  to  her  voice.  "  I  kneel  to  Heaven  alone,  and  may  it 
ever  preserve  my  Wallace  from  the  fangs  of  Edward  and  his 
tyrants !  " 

"  Blasphemous  wretch ! "  cried  the  infuriated  Heselrigge, 
and  in  that  moment  he  plunged  his  sword  into  her  defence- 
less breast.  Halbert,  who  had  all  this  time  been  held  back 
by  the  soldiers,  could  not  believe  that  the  fierce  governor 
would  perpetrate  the  horrid  deed  he  threatened ;  but  seeing  it 
done,  with  a  giant's  strength  and  a  terrible  cry  he  burst  from 
the  hands  which  held  him,  and  had  thrown  himself  on  the 
bleeding  Marion  before  her  murderer  could  strike  his  second 
blow.  However,  it  fell,  and  pierced  the  neck  of  the  faithful 
servant  before  it  reached  her  heart.  She  opened  her  dying 
eyes,  and  seeing  who  it  was  that  would  have  shielded  her  life, 
just  articulated,  "Halbert!  my  Wallace  —  to  God  — "  and 
with  the  last  unfinished  sentence  her  pure  soul  took  its 
flight  to  regions  of  eternal  peace. 

The  good  old  man's  heart  almost  burst  when  he  felt  that 
before-heaving  bosom  now  motionless,  and  groaning  with  grief 
and  fainting  with  loss  of  blood  he  lay  senseless  on  her  body . 

A  terrible  stillness  was  now  in  the  hall.  Not  a  man  spoke, 
all  stood  looking  on  each  other  with  a  stern  horror  marking 


30  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

each  pale  countenance.  Heselrigge,  dropping  his  blood- 
stained sword  on  the  ground,  perceived  by  the  behavior  of 
his  men  that  he  had  gone  too  far,  and  fearful  of  arousing  the 
indignation  of  awakened  humanity  to  some  act  against  him- 
self, he  addressed  the  soldiers  in  an  unusual  accent  of  conde- 
scension :  "  My  friends,"  said  he,  "  we  will  now  return  to 
Lanark ;  to-morrow  you  may  come  back,  for  I  reward  your 
services  of  this  night  with  the  plunder  of  Ellerslie." 

"  May  a  curse  light  on  him  who  carries  a  stick  from  its 
grounds ! "  exclaimed  a  veteran,  from  the  further  end  of  the 
hall.  "  Amen !  "  murmured  all  the  soldiers  with  one  consent ; 
and  falling  back,  they  disappeared,  one  by  one,  out  of  the 
great  door,  leaving  Heselrigge  alone  with  the  soldier  who 
stood,  leaning  on  his  sword,  looking  on  the  murdered  lady. 

"  Grimsby,  why  stand  you  there  ? "  demanded  Heselrigge : 
"follow  me!" 

"  Never,"  returned  the  soldier. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  governor,  momentarily  forgetting 
his  panic  ;  "  dare  you  speak  thus  to  your  commander  ?  March 
on  before  me  this  instant,  or  expect  to  be  treated  as  a  rebel ! " 

"  I  march  at  your  command  no  more,"  replied  the  veteran, 
eying  him  resolutely ;  "  the  moment  you  perpetrated  this 
bloody  deed  you  became  unworthy  the  name  of  man,  and  I 
should  disgrace  my  own  manhood  were  I  ever  again  to  obey 
the  word  of  such  a  monster  ! " 

"Villain!  "  cried  the  enraged  Heselrigge,  "you  shall  die  for 
this ! " 

"  That  may  be,"  answered  Grimsby,  "by  the  hands  of  some 
tyrant  like  yourself ;  but  no  brave  man,  not  the  royal  Edward, 
would  do  otherwise  than  acquit  his  soldier  for  refusing  obe- 
dience to  the  murderer  of  an  innocent  woman.  It  was  not  so 
he  treated  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  slaughtered  Sara- 
cens when  I  followed  his  banners  over  the  fields  of  Palestine." 

"Thou  canting  miscreant!"  cried  Heselrigge,  springing  on 
him  suddenly,  and  aiming  his  dagger  at  his  breast.  But  the 
soldier  arrested  the  weapon,  and  at  the  same  instant  closing 
upon  the  assassin,  with  a  turn  of  his  foot  threw  him  to  the 
ground.  Heselrigge,  as  he  lay  prostrate,  seeing  his  dagger  in 
his  adversary's  hand,  with  the  most  dastardly  promises  im- 
plored for  life. 

"  Monster !  "  cried  the  soldier,  "  I  would  not  pollute  my 
honest  hands  with  such  unnatural  blood.  Neither, .  though 
thy  hand  has  been  lifted  against  my  life,  would  I  willingly 
take  thine.  It  is  not  rebellion  against  my  commander  that 


ELLERSLIE.  31 

actuates  me,  but  hatred  of  the  vilest  of  murderers.  I  go  far 
from  you  or  your  power  ;  but  if  you  forswear  your  voluntary 
oath,  and  attempt  to  seek  me  out  for  vengeance,  remember  it 
is  a  soldier  of  the  cross  you  pursue,  and  a  dire  retribution 
shall  be  demanded  by  Heaven  at  a  moment  you  cannot  avoid, 
and  with  a  horror  commensurate  with  your  crimes." 

There  was  a  solemnity  and  a  determination  in  the  voice  and 
manner  of  the  soldier  that  paralyzed,  the  intimidated  soul  of 
the  governor ;  he  trembled  violently,  and  repeating  his  oath 
of  leaving  Grimsby  unmolested,  at  last  obtained  his  permission 
to  return  to  Lanark.  The  men,  in  obedience  to  the  conscience- 
struck  orders  of  their  commander,  had  mounted  their  horses, 
and  were  now  far  out  of  sight.  Heselrigge's  charger  was  still 
in  the  court-yard :  he  was  hurrying  towards  it,  but  the  soldier, 
with  a  prudent  suspicion,  called  out,  "  Stop,  sir !  you  must 
walk  to  Lanark.  The  cruel  are  generally  false :  I  cannot  trust 
your  word,  should  you  have  the  power  to  break  it.  Leave  this 
horse  here  —  to-morrow  you  may  send  for  it,  I  shall  then  be 
far  away." 

Heselrigge  saw  that  remonstrance  would  be  unavailing,  an(* 
shaking  with  impotent  rage,  he  turned  into  the  path  which, 
after  five  weary  miles,  would  lead  him  once  more  to  his 
citadel. 

From  the  moment  the  soldier's  manly  spirit  had  dared  to 
deliver  its  abhorrence  of  Lady  Wallace's  murder,  he  was 
aware  that  his  life  would  no  longer  be  safe  within  reach  of 
the  machinations  of  Heselrigge  ;  and  determined  alike  by  de- 
testation of  him  and  regard  for  his  own  preservation,  he  re- 
solved to  take  shelter  in  the  mountains,  till  he  could  have  an 
opportunity  of  going  beyond  sea  to  join  his  king's  troops  in 
the  Guienne  wars. 

Full  of  these  thoughts  he  returned  into  the  hall.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  bleeding  group  on  the  floor  he  perceived  it 
move ;  hoping  that  perhaps  the  unhappy  lady  might  not  be 
dead,  he  drew  near ;  but,  alas  !  as  he  bent  to  examine,  he 
touched  her  hand  and  found  it  quite  cold.  The  blood  which 
had  streamed  from  the  now  exhausted  heart  lay  congealed 
upon  her  arms 'and  bosom.  Grimsby  shuddered.  Again  he 
saw  her  move;  but  it  was  not  with  her  own  life  —  the  recover- 
ing senses  of  her  faithful  servant,  as  his  arms  clung  around 
the  body,  had  disturbed  the  remains  of  her  who  would  wake 
no  more. 

On  seeing  that  existence  yet  struggled  in  one  of  these  blame- 
less victims,  Grimsby  did  his  utmost  to-  revive  the  old  man. 


32  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

He  raised  him  from  the  ground,  and  poured  some  strong 
liquor  he  had  in  a  flask,  into  his  mouth.  Halbert  breathed 
freer ;  and  his  kind  surgeon,  with  the  venerable  harper's  own 
plaid,  bound  up  the  wound  in  his  neck.  Halbert  opened 
his  eyes.  When  he  fixed  them  on  the  rough  features  and 
'English  helmet  of  the  soldier,  he  closed  them  again  with  a 
deep  groan. 

"  My  honest  Scot,"  said  Grimsby,  "  trust  in  me.  I  am  a  man 
like  yourself,  and  though  a  Southron,  am  no  enemy  to  age  and 
helplessness." 

The  harper  took  courage  at  these  words  ;  he  again  looked  at 
the  soldier,  but  suddenly  recollecting  what  had  passed,  he 
turned  his  eyes  towards  the  body  of  his  mistress,  on  which  the 
beams  of  the  now  rising  sun  were  shining.  He  started  up,  and 
staggering  towards  her,  would  have  fallen,  had  not  Grimsby 
supported  him.  "Oh  what  a  sight  is  this  !  "  cried  he, wringing 
his  hands.  "  My  lady  !  my  lovely  lady  !  see  how  low  she  lies, 
who  was  once  the  delight  of  all  eyes,  the  comforter  of  all 
hearts."  The  old  man's  sobs  suffocated  him.  The  veteran 
turned  away  his  face  ;  a  tear  dropped  upon  his  hand.  "  Accursed 
Heselrigge,"  ejaculated  he,  "thy  fate  must  come  !" 

"  If  there  be  a  man's  heart  in  all  Scotland,  it  is  not  far  dis- 
tant !  "  cried  Halbert.  "  My  master  lives,  and  will  avenge  this 
murder.  You  weep,  soldier ;  and  you  will  not  betray  what  has 
now  escaped  me." 

"  I  have  fought  in  Palestine,"  returned  he  ;  "and  a  soldier 
of  the  cross  betrays  none  who  trust  him.  Saint  Mary  preserve 
your  master  and  conduct  you  safely  to  him.  We  must  both 
hasten  hence.  Heselrigge  will  surely  send  in  pursuit  of  me. 
He  is  too  vile  to  forgive  the  truth  I  have  spoken  to  him ;  and 
should  I  fall  into  his  power,  death  is  the  best  I  could  expect 
at  his  hands.  Let  me  assist  you  to  put  this  poor  lady's  remains 
into  some  decent  place,  and  then,  my  honest  Scot,  we  must 
separate." 

Halbert,  at  these  words,  threw  himself  upon  the  bosom  of 
his  mistress,  and  wept  with  loud  lamentations  over  her.  In 
vain  he  attempted  to  raise  her  in  his  feeble  arms.  "  I  have 
carried  thee  scores  of  times  in  thy  blooming  infancy,"  cried  he ; 
"  and  now  must  I  bear  thee  to  thy  grave  ?  I  had  hoped  that 
my  eyes  would  have  been  closed  by  this  dear  hand."  As  he 
spoke,  he  pressed  her  cold  hand  to  his  lips  with  such  convul- 
sive sobs  that  the  soldier  fearing  he  would  expire  in  the 
agony  of  his  sorrow,  took  him  almost  motionless  from  the 
dead  body,  and  exhorted  him  to  suppress  such  self-destroying 


ELLERSLIE.  33 

grief  for  the  sake  of  his  master.  Halbert  gradually  revived, 
and  listening  to  him,  cast  a  wistful  look  on  the  lifeless 
Marion. 

"  There  sleeps  the  pride  and  hope  of  Ellerslie,  the  mother 
with  her  child !  0  my  master,  my  widowed  master,"  cried  he, 
"  what  will  comfort  thee  ?  " 

Fearing  the  ill  consequence  of  further  delay,  the  soldier 
again  interrupted  his  lamentations  with  arguments  for  flight ; 
and  Halbert  recollecting  the  oratory  in  which  Wallace  had 
ordered  the  body  of  Lord  Mar  to  be  deposited,  named  it  for  that 
of  his  dead  lady.  Grimsby,  immediately  wrapping  the  beau- 
teous corse  in  the  white  garments  which  hung  about  it,  raised 
it  in  his  arms,  and  was  conducted  by  Halbert  to  a  little  chapel 
in  the  heart  of  a  neighboring  cliff. 

The  still  weeping  old  man  removed  the  altar ;  a  nd  Grimsby, 
laying  the  shrouded  Marion  upon  its  rocky  platform,  covered 
her  with  the  pall,  which  he  drew  from  the  holy  table,  and  laid 
the  crucifix  upon  her  bosom.  Halbert,  when  his  beloved  mis- 
tress was  thus  hidden  from  his  sight,  threw  himself  on  his 
knees  beside  her,  and  in  the  vehement  language  of  grief  offered 
up  a  prayer  for  her  departed  soul. 

"  Hear  me,  righteous  Judge  of  heaven  and  earth  ! "  cried  he  ; 
"as  thou  didst  avenge  the  blood  of  innocence  shed  in  Bethle- 
hem, so  let  the  gray  hairs  of  Heselrigge  be  brought  down  in 
blood  to  the  grave,  for  the  murder  of  this  innocent  lady ! " 
Halbert  kissed  the  cross,  and  rising  from  his  knees  went 
weeping  out  of  the  chapel,  followed  by  the  soldier. 

Having  closed  the  door  and  carefully  locked  it,  absorbed  in 
meditation  on  what  would  be  the  agonized  transports  of  his 
master  when  he  should  tell  him  these  grievous  tidings, 
Halbert  proceeded  in  silence  till  he  and  his  companion  in  pass- 
ing the  well  were  startled  by  a  groan. 

"  Here  is  some  one  in  extremity,"  cried  the  soldier.  "  Is 
it  possible  he  lives  ?  "  exclaimed  Halbert,  bendi  tig  down  to 
the  edge  of  the  well  with  the  same  inquiry.  "  Yes"  feebly 
answered  the  earl ;  "I  still  exist,  but  am  very  faint.  If  all  be 
safe  above,  I  pray  remove  me  into  the  upward  aiv."  Halbert 
replied  that  it  was  indeed  necessary  he  should  ascend  immedi- 
ately, and  lowering  the  rope,  told  him  to  tie  the  iron  box  to  it 
and  then  himself.  This  done,  with  some  difficulty  and  the  as- 
sistance of  the  wondering  soldier  (who  now  expected  to  see 
the  husband  of  the  unfortunate  Lady  Wallace  emerge  to  the 
knowledge  of  his  loss),  he  at  last  effected  the  earl's  release. 
For  a  few  seconds  the  fainting  nobleman  supported  himself  on 

VOL.  I.  — 3 


34  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

his  countryman's  shoulder,  while  the  fresh  morning  breeze 
gradually  revived  his  exhausted  frame.  The  soldier  looked  at 
his  gray  locks  and  furrowed  brow,  and  marvelled  how  such 
proofs  of  age  could  belong  to  the  man  whose  resistless  valor 
had  discomfited  the  fierce  determination  of  Arthur  Heselrigge 
and  his  myrmidons.  However,  his  doubts  of  the  veteran  be- 
fore him  being  other  than  the  brave  Wallace  were  soon 
satisfied  by  the  earl  himself,  who  asked  for  a  draught  of  the 
water  which  trickled  down  the  opposite  hill ;  and  while  Hal 
bert  went  to  bring  it,  Lord  Mar  raised  his  eyes  to  inquire  for 
Sir  William  and  the  Lady  Marion.  He  started  when  he  saw 
English  armor  on  the  man  he  would  have  accosted,  and 
rising  suddenly  from  the  stone  on  which  he  sat,  demanded,  in 
a  stern  voice,  "  Who  art  thou  ?  " 

"  An  Englishman,"  answered  the  soldier ;  "  one  who  does 
not,  like  the  monster  Heselrigge,  disgrace  the  name.  I  would 
assist  you,  noble  Wallace,  to  fly  this  spot.  After  that,  I  shall 
seek  refuge  abroad,  and  there,  on  the  fields  of  Gruienne,  de- 
monstrate my  fidelity  to  my  king." 

Mar  looked  at  him  steadily.  "  You  mistake  j  I  am  not  Sir 
William  Wallace." 

At  that  moment  Halbert  came  up  with  the  water.  The  earl 
drank  it,  though  now,  from  the  impulse  surprise  had  given  to 
his  blood,  he  did  not  require  its  efficacy ;  and  turning  to  the 
venerable  bearer,  he  asked  of  him  whether  his  master  were 
safe. 

"  I  trust  he  is,"  replied  the  old  man ;  "  but  you,  my  lord, 
must  hasten  hence.  A  foul  murder  has  been  committed  her, 
since  he  left  it." 

il  But  where  is  Lady  Wallace  ?  "  asked  the  earl ;  "  if  therl 
be  such  danger  we  must  not  leave  her  to  meet  it." 

"  She  will  never  meet  danger  more,"  cried  the  old  mac 
clasping  his  hands ;  "  she  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Virgin;  an! 
no  second  assassin's  steel  can  reach  her  there." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  earl,  hardly  articulate  with  horroi 
"  is  Lady  Wallace  murdered  ?  "     Halbert  answered  only  b  v 
his  tears. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  soldier  ;  "  and  detestation  of  so  unmanly  au 
outrage  provoked  me  to  desert  his  standard.  But  no  time 
must  now  be  lost  in  unavailing  lamentation ;  Heselrigge  win 
return,  and  if  we  also  would  not  be  sacrificed  to  his  rage,  we 
must  hence  immediately." 

The  earl,  struck  dumb  at  this  recital,  gave  the  soldier  time 
to  recount  the  particulars.  When  he  had  finished,  Lord  Mar 


ELLERSLIE.  35 

saw  the  necessity  for  instant  flight,  and  ordered  horses  to  be 
brought  from  the  stables.  Though  he  had  fainted  in  the  well, 
the  present  shock  gave  such  tension  to  his  nerves,  that  he  found, 
in  spite  of  his  wound,  he  could  now  ride  without  difficulty. 

Halbert  went  as  commanded,  and  returned  with  two  horses. 
Having  only  amongst  rocks  and  glens  to  go,  he  did  not  bring 
one  for  himself;  and  begging  the  good  soldier  might  attend  the 
earl  to  Bothwell,  he  added,  "  He  will  guard  you  and  this  box, 
which  Sir  William  Wallace  holds  as  his  life.  What  it  contains 
I  know  not,  and  none,  he  says,  may  dare  to  search  into.  But 
you  will  take  care  of  it  for  his  sake,  till  more  peaceful  times 
allow  him  to  reclaim  his  own." 

"  Fatal  box  ! "  cried  the  soldier,  regarding  it  with  an  abhor- 
rent eye  ;  "that  was  the  leading  cause  which  brought  Hesel- 
rigge  to  Ellerslie." 

"  How  ?  "  inquired  the  earl.  Grimsby  then  briefly  related 
that  immediately  after  the  return  to  Lanark  of  the  detachment 
sent  to  Ellerslie,  under  the  command  of  Sir  Gilbert  Hambledon, 
an  officer  arrived  from  the  English  garrison  in  Douglas,  and 
told  the  governor  that  Sir  William  Wallace  had  that  evening 
taken  a  quantity  of  treasure  from  the  castle.  His  report  was 
that  the  English  soldiers  who  stood  near  the  Scottish  knight 
when  he  mounted  at  the  castle  gate  saw  a  long  iron  coffer 
under  his  arm,  but  not  suspecting  its  having  belonged  to 
Douglas,  they  thought  not  of  it  till  they  overheard  Sir  John 
Monteith,  as  he  passed  through  one  of  the  galleries,  muttering 
something  about  gold  and  a  box.  To  intercept  the  robber 
amongst  his  native  glens,  the  soldiers  deemed  impracticable, 
and  therefore  their  captain  came  immediately  to  lay  the  infor- 
mation before  the  Governor  of  Lanark.  As  the  scabbard  found 
in  the  affray  with  young  Arthur  had  betrayed  the  victor  to 
have  been  Sir  William  Wallace,  this  intimation  of  his  having 
been  also  the  instrument  of  wresting  from  the  grasp  of  Hesel- 
rigge,  perhaps  the  most  valuable  spoil  in  Douglas,  exasperated 
him  to  the  most  vindictive  excess.  Inflamed  with  the  double 
furies  of;  revenge  and  avarice,  he  ordered  out  a  new  troop,  and 
placing-  himself  at  its  head  took  the  way  to  Ellerslie.  One  of 
the  servants,  whom  some  of  Hambledoji's  men  had  seized  for 
the  sake  of  information,  on  being  threatened  with  the  torture, 
confessed  to  Heselrigge  that  not  only  Sir  William  Wallace 
was  in  the  house  when  it  was  attacked,  but  that  the  person 
whom  he  had  rescued  in  the  streets  of  Lanark,  and  who  proved 
to  be  a  wealthy  nobleman,  was  there  also.  This  whetted  the 
eagerness  of  the  governor  to  reach  Ellerslie ;  and  expecting  to 


36  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

get  a  rich,  booty,  without  the  most  distant  idea  of  the  horrors 
he  was  going  to  perpetrate,  a  large  detachment  of  men  fol- 
lowed him. 

"To  extort  money  from  you,  my  lord,"  continued  the 
soldier,  "  and  to  obtain  that  fatal  coffer,  were  his  main  ob- 
jects ;  but  disappointed  in  his  darling  passion  of  avarice,  he 
forgot  he  was  a  man,  and  the  blood  of  innocence  glutted  his 
barbarous  vengeance." 

"  Hateful  gold  ! "  cried  Lord  Mar,  spurning  the  box  with 
his  foot ;  "  it  cannot  be  for  itself  the  noble  Wallace  so  greatly 
prizes  it :  it  must  be  a  trust." 

"I  believe  it  is,"  returned  Halbert,  "for  he  enjoined  my 
lady  to  preserve  it  for  the  sake  of  his  honor.  Take  care  of 
it  then,  my  lord,  for  the  same  sacred  reason." 

The  Englishman  made  no  objection  to  accompany  the  earl, 
and  by  a  suggestion  of  his  own,  Halbert  brought  him  a  Scot- 
tish bonnet  and  cloak  from  the  house.  While  he  put  them  on, 
the  earl  observed  that  the  harper  held  a  drawn  and  blood- 
stained sword  in  his  hand,  on  which  he  steadfastly  gazed. 
"  Whence  came  that  horrid  weapon  ?  "  cried  Lord  Mar. 

"  It  is  my  lady's  blood,"  replied  Halbert,  still  looking  on  it. 
"  I  found  it  where  she  lay,  in  the  hall,  and  I  will  carry  it  to 
my  master.  Was  not  every  drop  of  her  blood  dear  to  him  ? 
and  here  are  many."  As  the  old  man  spoke  he  bent  his  head 
on  the  sword  and  groaned  heavily. 

"  England  shall  hear  more  of  this  ! "  cried  Mar,  as  he  threw 
himself  across  the  horse.  "  Give  me  that  fatal  box,  I  will 
buckle  it  to  my  saddle-bow.  Inadequate  will  be  my  utmost 
care  of  it,  to  repay  the  vast  sorrows  its  preservation  and  mine 
have  brought  upon  the  head  of  my  deliverer." 

The  Englishman  in  silence  mounted  his  horse,  and  Halbert 
opened  a  back  gate  that  led  to  the  hills  which  lay  between  El- 
lerslie  and  Bothwell  castle.  Lord  Mar  took  a  golden-trophied 
bugle  from  his  breast.  "  Give  this  to  your  master,  and  tell  him 
that  by  whatever  hands  he  sends  it,  the  sight  of  it  shall  always 
command  the  services  of  Donald  Mar.  I  go  to  Bothwell  in 
expectation  that  he  will  join  me  there.  In  making  it  his  home 
he  will  render  me  happy,  for  my  friendship  is  now  bound  to 
him  by  bonds  which  only  death  can  sever." 

Halbert  took  the  horn,  and  promising  faithfully  to  repeat 
the  earl's  message,  prayed  God  to  bless  him  and  the  honest 
soldier.  A  rocky  promontory  soon  excluded  them  from  his 
sight,. and  a  few  minutes  more  even  the  sound  of  the  horses' 
hoofs  was  lost  on  the  soft  herbage  of  the  winding  dell. 


CORIE    LYNN.  37 

'*  Now  I  am  alone  in  this  once  happy  spot.  Not  a  voice,  not 
a  sound.  0  Wallace ! "  cried  he,  throwing  up  his  venerable 
arms,  "  thy  house  is  left  unto  thee  desolate,  and  I  am  to  be  the 
fatal  messenger."  With  the  last  words  he  struck  into  a  deep 
ravine  which  led  to  the  remotest  solitudes  of  the  glen,  and 
pursued  his  way  in  dreadful  silence.  No  human  face  of  Scot 
or  English  cheered  or  scared  him  as  he  passed  along.  The 
tumult  of  the  preceding  night,  by  dispersing  the  servants  of 
Ellerslie,  had  so  alarmel  the  poor  cottagers,  that  with  one  ac- 
cord they  fled  to  their  kindred  on  the  hills,  amid  those  fast- 
nesses of  nature  to  await  tidings  from  the  valley  of  when  all 
should  be  still,  and  they  might  return  in  peace.  Halbert 
looked  to  the  right  and  to  the  left ;  no  smoke  curling  its  gray 
mist  from  behind  the  intersecting  rocks  reminded  him  of  the 
gladsome  morning  hour,  or  invited  him  to  take  a  moment's 
rest  from  his  grievous  journey.  All  was  lonely  and  comfort- 
less ;  and  sighing  bitterly  over  the  wide  devastation,  he  con- 
cealed the  fatal  sword  and  the  horn  under  his  cloak,  and  with 
a  staff,  which  he  broke  from  a  withered  tree,  took  his  way 
down  the  winding  craigs.  Many  a  pointed  flint  pierced  his 
aged  feet  while  exploring  the  almost  trackless  paths,  which 
by  their  direction  he  hoped  would  lead  him  at  length  to  the 
deep  caves  of  Corie  Lynn.1 


CHAPTER   IV. 


CORIE    LYNN. 

AFTER  having  traversed  many  a  weary  rood  of,  to  him,  before 
untrodden  ground,  the  venerable  minstrel  of  the  house  of 
Wallace,  exhausted  by  fatigue,  sat  down  on  the  declivity  of  a 
steep  craig.  The  burning  beams  of  the  midday  sun  now  beat 
upon  the  rocks,  but  the  overshadowing  foliage  afforded  him 
shelter,  and  a  few  berries  from  the  brambles,  which  knit 
themselves  over  the  path  he  had  yet  to  explore,  with  a  draught 
of  water  from  a  friendly  burn,  offered  themselves  to  revive 
his  enfeebled  limbs.  Insufficient  as  they  appeared,  he  took 
them,  blessing  Heaven  for  sending  even  these,  and  strengthened 
by  half  an  hour's  rest,  again  he  grasped  his  staff  to  pursue  his 
way. 

1  Near  those  once  lonely  caves  now  stands  Bonniton  House,  the  beautiful  residence  of 
Lady  Mary  lloss,  the  home  of  all  hospitable  kiudiieeses.  —  (1809.) 


38  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

After  breaking  a  passage  through  the  entangled  shrubs  that 
grew  across  the  only  possible  footing  in  this  solitary  wilder- 
ness, he  went  along  the  side  of  the  expanding  stream,  which 
at  every  turning  of  the  rocks  increased  in  depth  and  violence 
The  rills  from  above,  and  other  mountain  brooks,  pouring  fron 
abrupt  falls  down  the  craigs,  covered  him  with  spray  and  in- 
tercepted his  passage.  Finding  it  impracticable  to  proceed 
through  the  rushing  torrent  of  a  cataract  whose  distant  roar- 
ings might  have  intimidated  even  a  younger  adventurer,  he 
turned  from  its  tumbling  waters  which  burst  from  his  sight, 
and  crept  on  his  hands  and  knees  up  the  opposite  acclivity, 
catching  by  the  fern  and  other  weeds  to  stay  him  from  falling 
back  into  the  flood  below.  Prodigious  craggy  heights  towered 
above  his  head  as  he  ascended ;  while  the  rolling  clouds  which 
canopied  their  summits  seemed  descending  to  wrap  him  in 
their  "  fleecy  skirts,"  or  the  projecting  rocks  bending  over 
the  'waters  of  the  glen  left  him  only  a  narrow  shelf  in  the 
cliff,  along  which  he  crept  till  it  brought  him  to  the  mouth  of 
a  cavern. 

He  must  either  enter  it  or  return  the  way  he  came,  or  at- 
tempt the  descent  of  overhanging  precipices,  which  nothing 
could  surmount  but  the  pinions  of  their  native  birds.  Above 
him  was  the  mountain.  Retread  his  footsteps  until  he  had 
seen  his  beloved  master  he  was  resolved  not  to  do ;  to  perish 
in  these  glens  would  be  more  tolerable  to  him,  for  while  he 
moved  forward,  hope,  even  in  the  arms  of  death,  would  cheer 
him  with  the  whisper  that  he  was  in  the  path  of  duty.  He 
therefore  entered  the  cavity,  and  passing  on,  soon  perceived 
an  aperture,  through  which  emerging  on  the  other  side  he 
found  himself  again  on  the  margin  of  the  river.  Having  at- 
tained a  wider  bed,  it  left  him  a  still  narrower  causeway  to 
perform  the  remainder  of  his  journey. 

Huge  masses  of  rock,  canopied  with  a  thick  umbrage  of  firs, 
l^eech,  and  weeping-birch,  closed  over  the  glen  and  almost  ex- 
cluded the  light  of  day.  But  more  anxious,  as  he  calculated 
by  the  increased  rapidity  of  the  stream  he  must  now  be  ap- 
proaching the  great  fall  near  his  master's  concealment,  Hal- 
ted redoubled  his  speed.  But  an  unlooked-for  obstacle  baffled 
his  progress.  A  growing  gloom  he  had  not  observed  in  the 
sky-excluded  valley,  having  .entirely  overspread  the  heavens, 
at  this  moment  suddenly  discharged  itself,  amidst  peals  of 
thunder,  in  heavy  floods  of  rain  upon  his  head. 

Fearful  of  being  overwhelmed  by  the  streams  which  now 
on  all  sides  crossed  his  path,  he  kept  upon  the  edge  of  the 


CORIE    LYNX.  39 

river,  to  be  as  far  as  possible  from  the  influence  of  their  vio- 
lence. And  thus  he  proceeded,  slowly  and  with  trepidation, 
through  numerous  defiles,  and  under  the  plunge  of  many  a 
mountain-torrent,  till  the  augmented  storm  of  a  world  of 
waters,  dashing  from  side  to  side,  and  boiling  up  with  the 
noise  and  fury  of  the  contending  elements  above,  told  him  he 
was  indeed  not  far  from  the  fall  of  Corie  Lynn. 

The  spray  was  spread  in  so  thick  a  mist  over  the  glen  he 
knew  not  how  to  advance.  A  step  farther  might  be  on  the 
firm  earth,  but  more  probably  illusive,  and  dash  him  into  the 
roaring  Lynn,  where  he  would  be  ingulfed  at  once  in  its  furi- 
ous whirlpool.  He  paused  and  looked  around.  The  rain  had 
ceased,  but  the  thunder  still  rolled  at  a  distance,  and  echoed 
tremendously  from  the  surrounding  rocks.  Halbert  shook  his 
gray  locks,  streaming  with  wet,  and  looked  towards  the  sun, 
now  gilding  with  its  last  rays  the  vast  sheets  of  falling  water. 

"This  is  thine  hour,  my  master,"  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
K  and  surely  I  am  too  near  the  Lynn  to  be  far  from,  thee." 

With  these  words  he  raised  the  pipe  that  hung  at  his 
breast,  and  blew  three  strains  of  the  appointed  .air.  In  former 
days  it  used  to  call  from  her  bower  that  "  fair  star  of  even- 
ing/' the  beauteous  Marion,  now  departed  forever  into  her 
native  heaven.  The  notes  trembled  as  his  agitated  breath 
breathed  them  into  the  instrument ;  but  feeble  as  they  were, 
and  though  the  roar  of  the  cataract  might  have  prevented 
their  reaching  a  less  attentive  ear  than  that  of  Wallace,  yet  he 
sprang  from  the  innermost  recess  under  the  fall,  and  dashing 
through  its  rushing  waters,  the  next  instant  was  at  the  side  of 
Halbert. 

"  Faithful  creature  !  "  cried  he,  catching  him  in  his  arms, 
with  all  the  joy  of  that  moment  which  ends  the  anxious  wish 
to  learn  tidings  of  what  is  dearest  in  the  world,  "  how  fares 
my  Marion  ?  " 

"  I  am  weary,'7  cried  the  heart-stricken  old  man ;  "  take  me 
within  your  sanctuary,  and  I  will  tell  you  all." 

Wallace  perceived  that  his  time-worn  servant  was  indeed 
exhausted;  and  knowing  the  toils  and  hazards  of  the  perilous 
track  he  must  have  passed  over  in  his  way  to  this  fearful 
solitude,  also  remembering  how,  as  he  sat  in  his  shelter,  he 
had  himself  dreaded  the  effects  of  the  storm  upon  so  aged 
a  traveller,  he  no  longer  wondered  at  the  dispirited  tone  of  his 
greeting,  and  readily  accounted  for  the  pale  countenance  and 
tremulous  step  which  at  first  had  excited  his  alarm. 

Giving  the  old  man  his  hand  he  led  him  with  caution  to  the 


40  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

brink  of  the  Lynn,  and  then  folding  him  in  his  arms,  dashed 
with  him  through  the  tumbling  water  into  the  cavern  he  had 
chosen  for  his  asylum.1  Halbert  sunk  against  its  rocky  side, 
and  putting  forth  his  hand  to  catch  some  of  the  water  as  it 
fell,  drew  a  few  drops  to  his  parched  lips  and  swallowed 
them.  After  this  light  refreshment  he  breathed  a  little  and 
turned  his  eyes  upon  his  anxious  master. 

"  Are  you  sufficiently  recovered,  Halbert,  to  tell  me  how  you 
left  my  dearest  Marion  ?  " 

Halbert  dreaded  to  see  the  animated  light  which  now  cheered 
him  from  the  eyes  of  his  master  overclouded  with  the  Cim- 
merian horrors  his  story  must  unfold ;  he  evaded  a  direct 
reply.  "  I  saw  your  guest  in  safety ;  I  saw  him  and  the  iron 
box  on  their  way  to  Both  well." 

"  What !  "  inquired  Wallace,  "  were  we  mistaken  ?  was  not 
the  earl  dead  when  we  looked  into  the  well?"  Halbert  re- 
plied in  the  negative,  and  was  proceeding  with  a  circumstan- 
tial account  of  his  recovery  and  his  departure  when  Wallace 
interrupted  him. 

"  But  what  of  my  wife,  Halbert  ?  why  tell  me  of  others 
before  of  her  ?  She  whose  safety  and  remembrance  are  now 
my  sole  comfort." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  lord ! "  cried  Halbert,  throwing  himself  on 
his  knees  in  a  paroxysm  of  mental  agony ;  "  she  remembers 
you  where  best  frer  prayers  can  be  heard.  She  kneels  for  her 
beloved  Wallace  before  the  throne  of  God." 

"  Halbert !  "  cried  Sir  William,  in  a  low  and  fearful  voice, 
"  what  would  you  say  ?  My  Marion  —  speak  !  tell  me  in  one 
word,  she  lives  ! " 

"  In  heaven." 

At  this  confirmation  of  a  sudden  terror,  imbibed  from  the 
ambiguous  words  of  Halbert,  and  which  his  fond  heart  would 
not  allow  him  to  acknowledge  to  himself,  Wallace  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands  and  fell  with  a  deep  groan  against  the  side 
of  the  cavern.  The  horrid  idea  of  premature  maternal  pains 
occasioned  by  anguish  for  him,  of  her  consequent  death,  in- 
volving perhaps  that  of  her  infant,  struck  him  to  the  soul ; 
a  mist  seemed  passing  over  his  eyes,  life  was  receding,  and 
gladly  did  he  believe  he  felt  his  spirit  on  the  eve  of  joining 
hers. 

In  having  declared  that  the  idol  of  his  master's  heart  no 
longer  existed  for  him  in  this  world,  Halbert  thought  he  had 
revealed  the  worst,  and  he  went  on:  "  Her  latest  breath  was 

1  This  cavern  yet  exists,  and  is  still  honored  in  the  country  as  "  his  asylum."  —(1809.) 


CORIE    LYNN.  41 

spent  in  prayer  for  you.  '  My  Wallace '  were  the  last  words 
her  angel  spirit  uttered  as  it  issued  from  her  bleeding 
rounds." 

The  cry  that  burst  from  the  heart  of  Wallace,  as  he  started 
on  his  feet  at  this  horrible  disclosure,  seemed  to  pierce  through 
all  the  recesses  of  the  glen,  and  with  an  instantaneous  and 
dismal  re  turn  was  reechoed  from  rock  to  rock.  Halbert  threw 
his  arms  round  his  master's  knees.  The  frantic  blaze  of  hit 
eyes  struck  him  with  affright.  "  Hear  me,  my  lord ;  for  the 
sake  of  your  wife,  now  an  angel  hovering  near  you,  hear  what 
I  have  to  say." 

Wallace  looked  around  with  a  wild  countenance.  "My 
Marion  near  me !  Blessed  spirit !  Oh,  my  murdered  wife ! 
my  unborn  babe  !  Who  made  those  wounds  ?  "  cried  he,  catch- 
ing Halbert's  arm  with  a  tremendous4  though  unconscious 
grasp  ;  "  tell  me  who  had  the  heart  to  aim  a  blow  at  that  angel's 
life?  " 

"  The  Governor  of  Lanark,"  replied  Halbert. 

"  How  ?  for  what  ?  "  demanded  Wallace,  with  the  terrific 
glare  of  madness  shooting  from  his  eyes.  "  My  wife !  my 
wife !  what  had  she  done  ? " 

"He  came  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  ruffians,  and  seizing  my 
lady,  commanded  her  on  the  peril  of  her  life  to  declare  where 
you  and  the  Earl  of  Mar  and  the  box  of  treasure  were  con- 
cealed. My  lady  persisted  to  refuse  him  information,  and 
in  a  deadly  rage  he  plunged  his  sword  into  her  breast." 
Wallace  clenched  his  hands  over  his  face,  and  Halbert  went 
on.  "  Before  he  aimed  a  second  blow  I  had  broken  from  the 
men  who  held  me  and  thrown  myself  on  her  bosom;  but  all 
could  not  save  her:  the  villain's  sword  had  penetrated  her 
heart." 

"Great  God!"  exclaimed  Wallace,  "dost  thou  hear  this 
murder  ?  "  His  hands  were  stretched  towards  heaven  ;  then 
falling  on  his  knees,  with  his  eyes  fixed,  "  Give  me  power, 
Almighty  Judge,"  cried  he,  "  to  assert  thy  justice !  Let  me 
avenge  this  angel's  blood,  and  then  take  me  to  thy  mercy  ! " 

"  My  gracious  master,"  cried  Halbert,  seeing  him  rise  with 
a  stern  composure,  "  here  is  the  fatal  sword :  the  blood  on  it  is 
sacred,  and  I  brought  it  to  you." 

Wallace  took  it  in  his  hand.  He  gazed  at  it,  touched  it,  and 
kissed  it  frantically.  The  blade  was  hardly  yet  dry,  and  the 
ensanguined  hue  came  off  upon  the  pressure.  "  Marion ! 
Marion  ! "  cried  he,  "  is  it  thine  ?  Does  thy  blood  stain  my 
lip?"  He  paused  for  a  moment,  leaning  his  burning  fore- 


42  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

head  against  the  fatal  blade ;  then  looking  up  with  a  terrific 
smile,  "  Beloved  of  my  soul !  never  shall  this  sword  leave  my 
hand  till  it  has  drunk  the  life-blood  of  thy  murderer." 

"  What  is  it  you  intend,  my  lord,"  cried  Halbert,  viewing 
with  increased  alarm  the  resolute  ferocity  which  now,  blazing 
from  every  part  of  his  countenance,  seemed  to  dilate  his  figure 
with  more  than  mortal  daring.  "  What  can  you  do  ?  Your 
single  arm  —  " 

"  I  am  not  single  —  God  is  with  me.  I  am  his  avenger. 
Now  tremble,  tyranny  !  I  come  to  hurl  thee  down."  At  the 
word  he  sprang  from  the  cavern's  mouth,  and  had  already 
reached  the  topmost  cliif  when  the  piteous  cries  of  Halbert 
penetrated  his  ear ;  they  recalled  him  to  recollection,  and  re- 
turning to  his  faithful  servant,  he  tried  to  soothe  his  fears, 
and  spoke  in  a  composed  though  determined  tone.  "  I  will 
lead  you  from  this  solitude  to  the  mountains,  where  the  shep- 
herds of  Ellerslie  are  tending  their  flocks.  With  them  you 
will  find-  a  re'fuge  till  you  have  strength  to  reach  Bothwell 
castle.  Lord  Mar  will  protect  you  for  my  sake." 

Halbert  now  remembered  the  bugle,  and  putting  it  into  his 
master's  hand,  with  its  accompanying  message,  asked  for  some 
testimony  in  return,  that  the  earl  might  know  he  had  deliv- 
ered it  safely.  "  Even  a  lock  of  your  precious  hair,  my  beloved 
master,  will  be  sufficient." 

"  Thou  shalt  have  it,  severed  from  my  head  by  this  accursed 
steel,"  answered  Wallace,  taking  off  his  bonnet  and  letting 
his  amber  locks  fall  in  tresses  on  his  shoulders.  Halbert 
burst  into  a  fresh  flood  of  tears,  for  he  remembered  how  often 
it  had  been  the  delight  of  Marion  to  comb  these  bright  tresses 
and  to  twist  them  round  her  ivory  fingers.  Wallace  looked  up 
as  the  old  man's  sobs  became  audible,  and  read  his  thoughts : 
u  It  will  never  be  again,  Halbert,"  cried  he,  and  with  a  firm 
grasp  of  the  sword  he  cut  off  a  large  handful  of  his  hair. 

"  Marion,  thy  blood  hath  marked  it,"  exclaimed  he ;  "  and 
every  hair  in  my  head  shall  be  dyed  of  the  same  hue  before 
this  sword  is  sheathed  upon  thy  murderers.  Here,  Halbert," 
continued  he,  knotting  it  together,  "  take  this  to  the  Earl  of 
Mar:  it  is  all,  most  likely,  he  will  ever  see  again  of  Wil- 
liam Wallace.  Should  I  fall,  tell  him  to  look  on  that,  and  in 
my  wrongs  read  the  future  miseries  of  Scotland,  and  remem- 
ber that  God  armeth  the  patriot's  hand.  Let  him  act  on 
that  conviction,  and  Scotland  may  yet  be  free." 

Halbert  placed  the  lock  in  his  bosom,  but  again  repeated  his 
entreaties  that  his  master  would  accompany  him  to  Bothwell 


COR1E    LYNN.  43 

castle.  He  urged  the  consolation  he  would  meet  from  the 
good  earl's  friendship. 

"  If  he  indeed  regard  me,"  returned  Wallace,  "  for  my  sake 
let  him  cherish  you.  My  consolations  must  come  from  a 
higher  hand :  I  go  where  it  directs.  If  I  live,  you  shall  see 
me  again ;  but  twilight  approaches  —  we  must  away.  The 
sun  must  not  rise  again  upon  Heselrigge." 

Halbert  now  followed  the  rapid  steps  of  Wallace,  who, 
assisting  the  feeble  limbs  of  his  faithful  servant,  drew  him 
up  the  precipitous  side  of  the  Lynn,1  and  then  leaping  from 
rock  to  rock,  awaited  with  impatience  the  slower  advances  of 
the  poor  old  harper,  as  he  crept  round  a  circuit  of  overhang- 
ing cliffs,  to  join  him  on  the  summit  of  the  craigs. 

Together  they  struck  into  the  most  inaccessible  denies  of 
the  mountains,  and  proceeded  till,  on  discerning  smoke  whiten- 
ing with  its  ascending  curls  the  black  sides  of  the  impending 
rocks,  Wallace  saw  himself  near  the  objects  of  his  search. 
He  sprang  on  a  high  cliff  projecting  over  this  mountain 
valley,  and  blowing  his  bugle  with  a  few  notes  of  the  well- 
known  pibroch  *  of  Lanarkshire,  was  answered  by  the  rever- 
beration of  a  thousand  echoes. 

At  the  loved  sounds  which  had  not  dared  to  visit  their  ears 
since  the  Scottish  standard  was  lowered  to  Edward,  the  hills 
seemed  teeming  with  life.  Men  rushed  from  their  fastnesses, 
and  women  with  their  babes  eagerly  followed,  to  see  whence 
sprung  a  summons  so  dear  to  every  Scottish  heart.  Wallace 
stood  on  the  cliff,  like  the  newly  aroused  genius  of  his 
country:  his  long  plaid  floated  afar,  and  his  glittering  hair, 
streaming  on  the  blast,  seemed  to  mingle  with  the  golden  fires 
which  shot  from  the  heavens.  Wallace  raised  his  eyes  —  a 
clash  as  of  the  tumult  of  contending  armies  filled  the  sky, 
and  flames,  and  flashing  steel,  and  the  horrid  red  of  battle 
streamed  from  the  clouds  upon  the  hills.3 

"  Scotsmen,"  cried  Wallace,  waving  the  fatal  sword,  which 
blazed  in  the  glare  of  these  northern  lights  like  a  flaming 
brand,  "  behold  how  the  heavens  cry  aloud  to  you !  I  come, 
in  the  midst  of  their  fires,  to  call  you  to  vengeance.  I  come 
in  the  name  of  all  ye  hold  dear,  of  the  wives  of  your  bosoms 
and  the  children  in  their  arms,  to  tell  you  the  poniard  of 
England  is  unsheathed  —  innocence  and  age  and  infancy  fall 

JThe  cavern  which  sheltered  Sir  William  Wallace,  near  Corie  Lynn,  is  yet  revered 
by  the  people. 

1  Pibroch,  a  martial  piece  of  music  adapted  to  the  Highland  pipe.  Each  great 
family  has  one  peculiarly  its  own.  —  (1809.) 

•The  late  Duke  of  Gordon  exhibited  a  similar  scene  to  Prince  Leopold,  when  His 
Royal  Highness  visited  Gordon  castle,  bis  "  bills  teeming  with  life."—  (1830.) 


44  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

before  it.  With  this  sword,  last  night,  did  Heselrigge,  the 
English  tyrant  of  Lanark,  break  into  my  house  and  murder 
my  wife." 

The  shriek  of  horror  that  burst  from  every  mouth  inter- 
rupted Wallace.  "Vengeance!  vengeance!"  was  the  cry  of 
the  men,  while  tumultuous  lamentations  for  the  "  sweet  Lady 
of  Ellerslie  "  filled  the  air  from  the  women. 

Wallace  sprang  from  the  cliff  into  the  midst  of  his  brave 
countrymen :  "  Follow  me,  then,  to  strike  the  mortal  blow  !  " 

"  Lead  on  ! "  cried  a  vigorous  old  man.  "  I  drew  this  stout 
claymore  last  in  the  battle  of  Largs.1  Life  and  Alexander 
was  then  the  word  of  victory :  now,  ye  accursed  Southrons,  ye 
shall  meet  the  slogan 2  of  Death  and  Lady  Marion" 

'*  Death  and  Lady  Marion  ! "  was  echoed  with  shouts  from 
mouth  to  mouth.  Every  sword  was  drawn  ;  and  those  hardy 
peasants  who  owned  none,  seizing  the  instruments  of  pastur- 
age, armed  themselves  with  wolf-spears,  pickaxes,  forks,  and 
scythes. 

Sixty  resolute  men  now  arranged  themselves  around  their 
chief.  Wallace,  whose  widowed  heart  turned  icy  cold  at  the 
dreadful  slogan  of  his  Marion's  name,  more  fiercely  grasped 
his  sword,  and  murmured  to  himself,  "  From  this  hour  may 
Scotland  date  her  liberty,  or  Wallace  return  no  more.  My 
faithful  friends,"  cried  he,  turning  to  his  men  and  placing  his 
plumed  bonnet  on  his  head,  "  let  the  spirits  of  your  fathers 
inspire  your  souls  !  ye  go  to  assert  that  freedom  for  which 
they  died.  Before  the  moon  sets,  the  tyrant  of  Lanark  must 
fall  in  blood." 

"  Death  and  Lady  Marion ! "  was  the  pealing  answer  that 
echoed  from  the  hills. 

Wallace  again  sprang  on  the  cliffs.  His  brave  peasants 
followed  him;  and  taking  their  rapid  inarch  by  a  near  cut 
through  a  hitherto  unexplored  defile  of  the  Cartlane  craigs, 
leaping  chasms  and  climbing  perpendicular  rocks,  they  suf- 
fered no  obstacles  to  impede  their  steps  while  thus  rushing 
onward  like  lions  to  their  prey. 

1  In  the  battle  of  Largs,  Sir  Malcolm  Wallace,  the  father  of  Wallace,  fell  gloriously 
fighting  against  the  Danes.—  (1830.) 

1  Slogan,  so  the  war-word  was  termed.  —  (1809.) 


LANARK    CASTLE.  45 

CHAPTER    V. 

LANARK    CASTLE. 

THE  women,  and  the  men  whom  age  withheld  from  so  des- 
perate an  enterprise,  now  thronged  around  Halbert,  to  ask  a 
circumstantial  account  of  the  disaster  which  had  filled  all 
with  so  much  horror. 

Many  tears  followed  his  recital :  not  one  of  his  auditors  was 
in  indifferent  listener  ;  all  had  individually,  or  in  persons  dear 
to  them,  partaken  of  the  tender  Marion's  benevolence.  Their 
sick-beds  had  been  comforted  by  her  charity ;  her  voice  had 
often  administered  consolation  to  their  sorrows ;  her  hand  had 
smoothed  their  pillows,  and  placed  the  crucifix  before  their 
dying  eyes.  Some  had  recovered  to  bless  her,  and  some  de- 
parted to  record  her  virtues  in  heaven. 

"  Ah  !  is  she  gone  ?  "  cried  a  young  woman,  raising  her  face, 
covered  with  tears,  from  the  bosom  of  her  infant ;  "  is  the 
loveliest  lady  that  ever  the  sun  shone  upon,  cold  in  the  grave  ? 
Alas  forme !  she  it  was  that  gave  me  the  roof  under  which  my 
baby  was  born ;  she  it  was  who,  when  the  Southron  soldiers 
slew  my  father  and  drove  us  from  our  home  in  Ayrshire,  gave 
to  my  old  mother  and  my  then  wounded  husband  our  cottage 
by  the  burnside.  Ah!  well  can-I  spare  him  now  to  avenge  her 
murder." 

The  night  being  far  advanced  Halbert  retired,  at  the  invita- 
tion of  this  young  woman,  to  repose  on  the  heather-bed  of  her 
husband,  who  was  now  absent  with  Wallace.  The  rest  of  the 
peasantry  withdrew  to  their  coverts,  while  she  and  some  other 
women  whose  anxieties  would  not  allow  them  to  sleep,  sat  at 
the  cavern's  mouth,  watching  the  slowly  moving  hours. 

The  objects  of  their  fond  and  fervent  prayers,  Wallace  and 
his  little  army,  were  rapidly  pursuing  their  march.  It  was 
midnight  —  all  was  silent  as  they  hurried  through  the  glen,  as 
they  ascended  with  flying  footsteps  the  steep  acclivities  that 
led  to  the  cliffs  which  overhung  the  vale  of  Ellerslie.  Wallace 
must  pass  along  their  brow.  Beneath  was  the  tomb  of  his 
sacrificed  Marion.  He  rushed  forward  to  snatch  one  look, 
even  of  the  roof  which  shrouded  her  beloved  remains. 

But  in  the  moment  before  he  mounted  the  intervening 
height,  a  soldier  in  English  armor  crossed  the  path,  and  was 
seized  by  his  men.  One  of  them  would  have  cut  him  down, 
but  Wallace  turned  away  the  weapon.  "  Hold,  Scot ! "  cried 


46  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

he,  "you  are  not  a  Southron,  to  strike  the  defenceless.  This 
man  has  no  sword." 

The  reflection  on  their  enemy  which  this  plea  of  mercy  con- 
tained reconciled  the  impetuous  Scots  to  the  clemency  of  their 
leader.  The  rescued  man  joyfully  recognizing  the  voice  of 
Wallace,  exclaimed,  "  It  is  my  lord !  It  is  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace that  has  saved  my  life  a  second  time ! " 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Wallace :  "  that  helmet  can  cover 
no  friend  of  mine." 

"I  am  your  servant  Dugald,"  returned  the  man;  "he  whom 
your  brave  arm  saved  from  the  battle-axe  of  Arthur  Hesel- 
rigge." 

"I  cannot  now  ask  you  how  you  came  by  that  armor  ;  but  if 
you  be  yet  a  Scot,  throw  it  off  and  follow  me." 

"  Not  to  Ellerslie,  my  lord,"  cried  he ;  "  it  has  been  plun- 
dered and  burnt  to  the  ground  by  the  Governor  of  Lanark." 

"  Then,"  exclaimed  Wallace,  striking  his  breast,  "  are  the 
remains  of  my  beloved  Marion  forever  ravished  from  my  eyes ! 
Insatiate  monster ! " 

"  He  is  Scotland's  curse,"  cried  the  veteran  of  Largs.  "  For- 
ward, my  lord,  in  mercy  to  your  country's  groans  !  " 

Wallace  had  now  mounted  the  craig  which  overlooked  Ellers- 
lie. His  once  happy  home  had  disappeared,  and  ail  beneath 
lay  a  heap  of  smoking  ashes.  He  hastened  from  the  sight,  and 
directing  the  point  of  his  swor-d  with  a  forceful  action  towards 
Lanark,  reechoed  with  supernatural  strength,  "Forward!" 

With  the  rapidity  of  lightning  his  little  host  flew  over  the 
hills,  reached  the  cliffs  which  divided  them  from  the  town,  and 
leaped  down  before  the  outward  trench  of  the  castle  of  Lanark. 
In  a  moment  Wallace  sprang  so  feeble  a  barrier ;  and  with  a 
shout  of  death,  in  which  the  tremendous  slogan  of  his  men 
now  joined,  he  rushed  upon  the  guard  that  held  the  northern 
gate. 

Here  slept  the  governor.  These  opponents  being  slain  by 
the  first  sweep  of  the  Scottish  swords,  Wallace  hastened 
onward,  winged  with  twofold  retribution.  The  noise  of  battle 
was  behind  him,  for  the  shout  of  his  men  had  aroused  the 
garrison  and  drawn  its  soldiers,  half  naked,  to  the  spot.  He 
reached  the  door  of  the  governor.  The  sentinel  who  stood 
there  flew  before  the  terrible  warrior  that  presented  himself. 
All  the  mighty  vengeance  of  Wallace  blazed  in  his  face  and 
seemed  to  surround  his  figure  with  a  terrible  splendor.  With 
one  stroke  of  his  foot  he  drove  the  door  from  its  hinges  and 
rushed  into  the  room.  . 


LANARK    CASTLE.  47 

What  a  sight  for  the  now  awakened  and  guilty  Hesel- 
rigge  !  It  was  the  husband  of  the  defenceless  woman  he  had 
murdered,  come  in  the  power  of  justice,  with  uplifted  arm  and 
vengeance  in  his  eyes.  With  a  terrific  scream  of  despair,  and 
an  outcry  for  the  mercy  he  dared  not  expect,  he  fell  back  into 
the  bed  and  sought  an  unavailing  shield  beneath  its  folds. 

"  Marion  !  Marion  ! "  cried  Wallace,  as  he  threw  himself 
towards  the  bed  and  buried  the  sword,  yet  red  with  her  blood, 
through  the  coverlid  deep  into  the  heart  of  her  murderer.  A 
fiend-like  yell  from  the  slain  Heselrigge  told  him  his  work 
was  done,  and  drawing  out  the  sword  he  took  the  streaming 
blade  in  his  hand.  "Vengeance  is  satisfied,"  cried  he  ;  "thus, 
0  God  !  do  I  henceforth  divide  self  from  my  heart ! "  As 
he  spoke  he  snapt  the  sword  in  twain,  and  throwing  away  the 
pieces,  put  back  with  his  hand  the  impending  weapons  of  his 
brave  companions,  who,  having  cleared  the  passage  of  their 
assailants,  had  hurried  forward  to  assist  in  ridding  their 
country  of  so  detestable  a  tyrant. 

"  'T  is  done,"  cried  he.  As  he  spoke  he  drew  down  the 
coverlid  and  discovered  the  body  of  the  governor  weltering  in 
blood.  The  ghastly  countenance,  on  which  the  agonies  of  hell 
seemed  imprinted,  glared  horrible  even  in  death. 

Wallace  turned  away ;  but  the  men  exulting  in  the  sight, 
with  a  shout  of  triumph  exclaimed,  "  So  fall  the  enemies  of 
Sir  William  Wallace  I " 

"Bather  so  fall  the  enemies  of  Scotland  !  "  cried  he  ;  "  from 
this  hour  Wallace  has  neither  love  nor  resentment  but  for  her. 
Heaven  has  heard  me  devote  myself  'to  work  our  country's 
freedom  or  to  die.  Who  will  follow  me  in  so  just  a  cause  ?  " 

"  All !  with  Wallace  forever  !  " 

The  new  clamor  which  this  resolution  excited  intimidated 
a  fresh  band  of  soldiers,  who  were  hastening  across  the  court- 
yard to  seek  the  enemy  in  the  governor's  apartments.  But  on 
the  noise  they  hastily  retreated,  and  no  exertions  of  their 
officers  could  prevail  on  them  to  advance  again,  or  even  to 
appear  in  sight,  when  the  resolute  Scots  with  Wallace  at  their 
head  soon  afterwards  issued  from  the  great  gate.  The  English 
commanders  seeing  the  panic  of  their  men,  and  which  they 
were  less  able  to  surmount  on  account  of  the  way  to  the  gate 
being  strewn  with  their  slain  comrades,  fell  back  into  the 
shadow  of  the  towers,  where  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  like 
men  paralyzed,  they  viewed  the  departure  of  their  enemies 
over  the  trenches. 


48  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

CHAPTEE    VI. 

CARTLAISTE    CRAIGS. 

THE  sun  was  rising  from  the  eastern  hills  when  the  vic- 
torious group  reentered  the  mountain-glen  where  their 
families  lay.  The  cheerful  sounds  of  their  bugles  aroused  the 
sleepers  from  their  caves,  and  many  were  the  gratulations 
and  embraces  which  welcomed  the  warriors  to  affection  and 
repose.. 

Wallace,  while  he  threw  himself  along  a  bed  of  purple 
heath,  gathered  for  him  by  many  a  busy  female  hand,  listened 
with  a  calmed  mind  to  the  fond  inquiries  of  Halbert,  who, 
awakened  by  the  first  blast  of  the  horn,  had  started  from  his 
shelter  and  hastened  to  hail  the  safe  return  of  his  master. 
While  his  faithful  followers  retired  each  to  the  bosom  of  his 
rejoicing  family,  the  fugitive  chief  of  Ellerslie  remained  alone 
with  the  old  man,  and  recounted  to  him  the  success  of  his 
enterprise,  and  the  double  injuries  he  had  avenged.  "The 
assassin,"  continued  he,  "  has  paid  with  his  life  for  his  inex- 
piable crime.  He  is  slain,  and  with  him  several  of  Edward's 
garrison.  My  vengeance  may  be  appeased ;  but  what,  0 
Halbert,  can  bring  redress  to  my  widowed  heart  ?  All  is 
lost  to  me :  I  have  now  nothing  to  do  with  this  world  but 
as  I  may  be  the  instrument  of  good  to  others.  The 
Scottish  sword  has  now  been  redrawn  against  our  foes ;  and 
with  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  I  swear  it  shall  not  be  sheathed 
till  Scotland  be  rid  of  the  tyranny  which  has  slain  my  happi- 
ness. This  night  my  gallant  Scots  have  sworn  to  accomplish 
my  vow,  and  death  or  liberty  must  be  the  future  fate  of  Wal- 
lace and  his  friends." 

At  these  words  tears  ran  down  the  cheeks  of  the  venerable 
harper.  "  Alas !  my  too  brave  master,"  exclaimed  he,  "  what 
is  it  you  would  do  ?  Why  rush  upon  certain  destruction  ? 
For  the  sake  of  her  memory  whom  you  deplore ;  in  pity  to 
the  worthy  Earl  of  Mar,  who  will  arraign  himself  as  the  cause 
of  all  these  calamities,  and  of  your  death,  should  you  fall, 
retract  this  desperate  vow." 

"  No,  my  good  Halbert,"  returned  Wallace,  "  I  am  neither 
desperate  nor  inefficient ;  and  you,  faithful  creature,  shall 
have  no  cause  to  mourn  this  night's  resolution.  Go  to  Lord 
Mar  and  tell  him  what  are  my  resolves.  I  have  nothing  now 
that  binds  me  to  life  but  my  country;  and  henceforth  she 


CARTLANE    CRAIGS.  49 

shall  be  to  me  as  mistress,  wife,  and  child.  Would  you 
deprive  me  of  this  tie,  Halbert  ?  Would  you,  by  persuading 
me  to  resign  my  interest  in  her,  devote  me  to  a  hermit's  seclu- 
sion amongst  these  rocks  ?  for  I  will  never  again  appear  in 
the  tracks  of  men  if  it  be  not  as  the  defender  of  her  rights." 

"  But  where,  my  master,  shall  we  find  you,  should  the  earl 
choose  to  join  you  with  his  followers  ?  " 

"  In  this  wilderness,  whence  I  shall  not  remove  rashly.  My 
purpose  is  to  save  my  countrymen,  not  to  sacrifice  them  in 
needless  dangers." 

Halbert,  oppressed  with  sorrow  at  the  images  his  foreboding 
heart  drew  of  the  direful  scenes  in  which  his  beloved  master 
had  pledged  himself  to  become  the  leader,  bowed  his  head 
with  submission,  and  leaving  Wallace  to  his  rest,  retired  to 
the  mouth  of  the  cavern  to  weep  alone. 

It  was  noon  before  the  chief  awaked  from  the  death-like 
sleep  into  which  kind  nature  had  plunged  his  long-harassed 
senses.  He  opened  his  eyes  languidly,  and  when  the  sight  of 
his  rocky  apartment  forced  on  him  the  recollection  of  all  his 
miseries,  he  uttered  a  deep  groan.  That  sad  sound,  so  differ- 
ent from  the  jocund  voice  with  which  Wallace  used  to  issue 
from  his  rest,  struck  on  the  heart  of  Halbert :  he  drew  near 
his  master  to  receive  his  last  commands  for  Bothwell.  "  On 
my  knees,"  added  he,  "will  I  implore  the  earl  to  send  you 
succors." 

"  He  needs  not  prayers  for  that,"  returned  Wallace ;  "  but 
depart,  dear,  worthy  Halbert ;  it  will  comfort  me  to  know  you 
are  in  safety,  and  whithersoever  you  go  you  carry  my  thanks 
and  blessings  with  you." 

Old  age  opens  the  fountain  of  tears  ;  Halbert's  flowed  pro- 
fusely, and  bathed  his  master's  hand.  Could  Wallace  have 
wept,  it  would  have  been  then ;  but  that  gentle  emollient  of 
grief  was.  denied  to  him,  and  with  a  voice  of  assumed  cheerful- 
ness he  renewed  his  efforts  to  encourage  his  desponding  ser- 
vant. Half  persuaded  that  a  superior  Being  did  indeed  call  his 
beloved  master  to  some  extraordinary  exertions  for  Scotland, 
Halbert  bade  him  an  anxious  farewell,  and  then  withdrew  to 
commit  him  to  the  fidelity  of  the  companions  of  his  destiny. 
A  few  of  them  led  the  old  man  on  his  way,  as  far  as  the 
western  declivity  of  the  hills,  and  then  bidding  him  good 
speed,  he  took  the  remainder  of  his  journey  alone. 

After  traversing  many  a  weary  mile,  between  Cartlane  craigB 
and  Bothwell  castle,  he  reached  the  valley  in  which  that 
fortress  stands  ;  and  calling  to  the  warder  at  its  gates,  that 

VOL.  I.— 4 


50  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

he  came  from  Sir  William  Wallace,  was  immediately  admitted, 
and  conducted  into  the  castle. 

Halbert  was  led  by  a  servant  into  a  spacious  chamber,  where 
the  earl  lay  upon  a  couch.  A  lady,  richly  habited,  and  in  the 
bloom  of  life,  sat  at  his  head.  Another,  much  younger,  and  of 
resplendent  beauty,  knelt  at  his  feet,  with  a  salver  of  medici- 
nal cordials  in  her  hand.  The  Lady  Marion's  loveliness  had 
been  that  of  soft  moonlight  evening,  but  the  face  which  now 
turned  upon  Halbert  as  he  entered  was  "  full  of  light,  and 
splendor,  and  joy;  "and  the  old  man's  eyes,  even  though 
dimmed  in  tears,  were  dazzled.  A  young  man  stood  near  her. 
On  the  entrance  of  Halbert,  whom  the  earl  instantly  recog- 
nized, he  raised  himself  on  his  arm  and  welcomed  him.  The 
young  lady  rose  and  the  young  man  stepped  eagerly  forward. 

The  earl  inquired  anxiously  for  Sir  William  Wallace,  and 
asked  if  he  might  expect  him  soon  at  Bothwell. 

"  He  cannot  yet  come,  my  lord,"  replied  Halbert ;  "  hard  is 
the  task  he  has  laid  upon  his  valiant  head,  but  he  is  avenged : 
he  has  slain  the  Governor  of  Lanark."  A  faint  exclamation 
broke  from  the  lips  of  the  young  lady. 

"How?"  demanded  the  earl. 

Halbert  now  gave  a  particular  account  of  the  anguish  of 
Wallace  when  he  was  told  of  the  sanguinary  events  which 
had  taken  place  at  Ellerslie.  As  the  honest  harper  described, 
in  his  own  ardent  language,  the  devoted  zeal  with  which  the 
shepherds  on  the  heights  took  up  arms  to  avenge  the  wrong 
done  to  their  chief,  the  countenance  of  the  young  lady  and  of 
the  youth  glowed  through  tears ;  they  looked  on  each  other ; 
and  Halbert  proceeded : 

"  When  my  dear  master  and  his  valiant  troop  were  pursu- 
ing their  way  to  Lanark,  he  was  met  by  Dugald,  the  wounded 
man  who  had  rushed  into  the  room  to  apprise  us  of  the  ad- 
vance of  the  English  forces.  During  the  confusion  of  that 
horrible  night,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  contention,  in  spite  of 
his  feebleness  he  crept  away,  and  concealed  himself  from  the 
soldiers  amongst  the  bushes  of  the  glen.  When  all  was  over, 
he  came  from  his  hiding-place ;  and  finding  the  English  sol- 
dier's helmet  and  cloak,  poor  Dugald,  still  fearful  of  falling  in 
with  any  straggling  party  of  Heselrigge's,  disguised  himself  in 
those  Southron  clothes.  Exhausted  with  hunger,  he  was  ven- 
turing towards  the  house  in  search  of  food,  when  the  sight  of 
armed  men  in  the  hall  made  him  hastily  retreat  into  his  former 
place  of  refuge.  His  alarm  was  soon  increased  by  a  redoubled 
noise  from,  the  house ;  oaths  and  horrid  bursts  of  merriment 


CARTLANE    CRAIGS.  51 

seemed  to  have  turned  that  once  abode  of  honor  and  of 
loveliness  into  the  clamorous  haunts  of  ribaldry  and  rapine. 
In  the  midst  of  the  uproar  he  was  surprised  by  seeing  flames 
issue  from  the  windows.  Soldiers  poured  from  the  doors  with 
shouts  of  triumph;  some  carried  off  the  booty,  and  others 
watched  by  the  fire  till  the  interior  of  the  building  was  con- 
sumed and  the  rest  sunk  a  heap  of  smoking  ruins. 

"The  work  completed,  these  horrid  ministers  of  devas- 
tation left  the  vale  to  its  own  solitude.  Dugald,  after  waiting 
a  long  time  to  ascertain  they  were  quite  gone,  crawled  from 
the  bushes ;  and  ascending  the  cliffs,  he  was  speeding  to  the 
mountains,  when,  encountering  our  armed  shepherds,  they 
mistook  him  for  an  English  soldier,  and  seized  him.  The 
chief  of  ruined  Ellerslie  recognized  his  servant,  and  with 
redoubled  indignation  his  followers  heard  the  history  of  the 
mouldering  ashes  before  them." 

"  Brave,  persecuted  Wallace  ! "  exclaimed  the  earl,  "  how 
dearly  was  my  life  purchased !  But  proceed,  Halbert ;  tell 
me  that  he  returned  safe  from  Lanark." 

Halbert  now  recounted  the  dreadful  scenes  which  took 
place  in  that  town,  and  that  when  the  governor  fell,  Wallace 
made  a  vow  never  to  mingle  with  the  world  again  till  Scot- 
land should  be  free. 

"  Alas  ! "  cried  the  earl,  "  what  miracle  is  to  effect  that  ? 
Surely  he  will  not  bury  those  noble  qualities,  that  prime  of 
manhood,  within  the  gloom  of  a  cloister." 

"  No,  my  lord ;  he  has  retired  to  the  fastnesses  of  Cartlane 
craigs." 

"  Why  ?  "  resumed  Mar ;  "  why  did  he  not  rather  fly  to  me  ? 
This  castle  is  strong ;  and  while  one  stone  of  it  remains  upon 
another,  not  all  the  hosts  of  England  should  take  him  hence." 

"  It  was  not  your  friendship  he  doubted,"  returned  the  old 
man;  "love  for  his  country  compels  him  to  reject  all  comfort 
in  which  she  does  not  share.  His  last  words  to  me  were  these  : 
'  I  have  nothing  now  to  do  but  to  assert  the  liberties  of  Scot- 
land and  to  rid  her  of  her  enemies.  Go  to  Lord  Mar ;  take 
this  lock  of  my  hair,  stained  with  the  blood  of  my  wife.  It  is 
all,  most  likely,  he  will  ever  again  see  of  William  Wallace. 
Should  I  fall,  tell  him  to  look  on  that,  and  in  my  wrongs  read 
the  future  miseries  of  Scotland,  and  remember  that  God 
armeth  the  patriot.' " 

Tears  dropped  so  fast  from  the  young  lady's  eyes,  she  was 
obliged  to  walk  to  a  window  to  restrain  a  more  violent  burst  of 
grief. 


52  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  0  my  uncle  ! "  cried  the  youth,  "  surely  the  freedom  of 
Scotland  is  possible.  I  feel  in  my  soul  that  the  words  of  the 
brave  Wallace  are  prophetic." 

The  earl  held  the  lock  of  hair  in  his  hands ;  he  regarded  it, 
lost  in  meditation. 

"  '  God  armeth  the  patriot !  £ "  He  paused  again,  his  before 
pallid  cheek  taking  a  thousand  animated  hues;  then  raising 
the  sacred  present  to  his  lips,  "Yes,"  cried  he,  "thy  vow 
shall  be  performed;  and  while  Donald  Mar  has  an  arm  to 
wield  a  sword,  or  a  man  to  follow  to  the  field,  thou  shalt  com- 
mand both  him  and  them  ! " 

"But  not  as  you  are,  my  lord,"  cried  the  elder  lady; 
"your  'wounds  are  yet  unhealed,  your  fever  is  still  raging. 
Would  it  not  be  madness  to  expose  your  safety  at  such  a 
crisis  ?  " 

"I  shall  not  take  arms  myself,"  answered  he,  "till  I  can 
bear  them  to  effect;  meanwhile  of  all  my  clan  and  of  my 
friends  that  I  can  raise  to  guard  the  life  of  my  deliverer,  and 
to  promote  the  cause,  must  be  summoned.  This  lock  shall  be 
my  pennon ;  and  what  Scotsman  will  look  on  that  and  shrink 
from  his  colors  ?  Here,  Helen,  my  child,"  cried  he,  address- 
ing the  young  lady,  "before  to-morrow's  dawn  have  this  hair 
wrought  into  my  banner.  It  will  be  a  patriot's  standard  ;  and 
let  his  own  irresistible  words  be  the  motto  — God  armeth  me  !  " 

Helen  advanced  with  awestruck  trepidation.  Having  been 
told  by  the  earl  of  the  generous  valor  of  Wallace  and  of  the 
cruel  death  of  his  lady,  she  had  conceived  a  gratitude  and  a 
pity  deeper  than  language  could  express  for  the  man  who  had 
lost  so  much  by  succoring  one  so  dear  to  her.  She  took  the 
lock,  waving  in  yellow  light  upon  her  hands,  and,  trembling 
with  emotion,  was  leaving  the  room,  when  she  heard  her  cousin 
throw  himself  on  his  knees. 

"  I  beseech  you,  iny  honored  uncle,"  cried  he,  "  if  you  have 
love  for  me,  or  value  for  my  future  fame,  allow  me  to  be  the 
bearer  of  yon  banner  to  Sir  William  Wallace." 

Helen  stopped  at  the  threshold  to  hear  the  reply. 

"  You  could  not,  my  dear  nephew,"  returned  the  earl,  "  have 
asked  me  any  favor  I  could  grant  with  so  much  joy.  To-mor- 
row I  will  collect  the  peasantry  of  Both  well,  and  with  those 
and  my  own  followers  you  shall  join  Wallace  the  same  night/' 

Ignorant  of  the  horrors  of  war,  and  only#  alive  to  the  glory 
of  the  present  cause,  Helen  sympathized  in  the  ardor  of  her 
cousin,  and  with  a  thrill  of  sad  delight  hurried  to  her  apart- 
ment to  commence  her  task. 


CART  LANE    CRAIGS.  53 

Far  different  were  the  sentiments  of  the  young  countess,  her 
step-mother.  As  soon  as  Lord  Mar  had  let  this  declaration  es- 
cape his  lips,  alarmed  at  the  effect  so  much  agitation  might 
have  on  his  enfeebled  constitution,  and  fearful  of  the  perilous 
cause  he  ventured  thus  openly  to  espouse,  she  desired  his 
nephew  to  take  the  now  comforted  Halbert  (who  was  pouring 
forth  his  gratitude  to  the  earl  for  the  promptitude  of  his 
orders)  and  see  that  he  was  attended  with  hospitality. 

When  the  room  was  left  to  the  earl  and  herself,  she  ven- 
tured to  remonstrate  with  him  upon  the  facility  with  which  he 
had  become  a  party  in  so  treasonable  a  matter :  "  Consider,  my 
lord,"  continued  she,  "that  Scotland  is  now  entirely  in  the 
power  of  the  English  monarch.  His  garrisons  occupy  our 
towns,  his  creatures  hold  every  place  of  trust  in  the  kingdom." 

"  And  is  such  a  list  of  oppressions,  my  dear  lady,  to  be  an 
argument  for  longer  bearing  them  ?  Had  I  and  other  Scot- 
tish nobles  dared  to  resist  this  overwhelming  power  after  the 
battle  of  Dunbar ;  had  we,  instead  of  kissing  the  sword  that 
robbed  us  of  our  liberties,  kept  our  own  unsheathed  within  the 
bulwarks  of  our  mountains,  —  Scotland  might  now  be  free,  I 
should  not  have  been  insulted  by  our  English  tyrants  in  the 
streets  of  Lanark,  and  to  save  my  life  William  Wallace 
would  not  now  be  mourning  his  murdered  wife,  and  without  a 
home  to  shelter  him  ! " 

Lady  Mar  paused  at  this  observation,  but  resumed  :  "  That 
may  be  true.  But  the  die  is  cast ;  Scotland  is  lost  forever ; 
and,  by  your  attempting  to  assist  your  friend  in  this  rash  essay 
to  recover  it,  you  will  only  lose  yourself  also,  without  preserv- 
ing him.  The  project  is  wild  and  needless.  What  would  you 
have  ?  Now  that  the  contention  between  the  two  kings  is 
past,  now  that  Baliol  has  surrendered  his  crown  to  Edward,  is 
not  Scotland  at  peace  ?  " 

"A  bloody  peace,  Joanna,"  answered  the  earl;  "witness 
these  wounds.  A  usurper's  peace  is  more  destructive  than 
his  open  hostilities;  plunder  arid  assassination  are  its  concomi- 
tants. I  have  now  seen  and  felt  enough  of  Edward's  jurisdic- 
tion. It  is  time  I  should  awake,  and,  like  Wallace,  determine 
to  die  for  Scotland,  or  avenge  her." 

Lady  Mar  wept.  "  Cruel  Donald !  is  this  the  reward  of  all 
my  love  and  duty  ?  you  tear  yourself  from  me,  you  consign 
your  estates  to  sequestration,  you  rob  your  children  of  their 
name;  nay,  by  your  infectious  example  you  stimulate  our 
brother  Bothwell's  son  to  head  the  band  that  is  to  join  this 
madman,  Wallace." 


54  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"Hold,  Joanna !"  cried  the  earl ;  "  what  is  it  I  hear  ?  You 
call  the  hero  who,  in  saving  your  husband's  life,  reduced  him- 
self to  these  cruel  extremities,  a  madman  !  Was  he  mad  be- 
cause he  prevented  the  Countess  of  Mar  from  being  a  widow  ? 
Was  he  mad  because  he  prevented  her  children  from  being 
fatherless  ?  " 

The  countess,  overcome  by  this  cutting  reproach,  threw  her- 
self upon  her  husband's  neck :  "  Alas,  my  lord ! "  cried  she, 
"all  is  madness  to  me  that  would  plunge  you  into  danger. 
Think  of  your  own  safety,  of  my  innocent  twins  now  in  their 
cradle,  should  you  fall.  Think  of  our  brother's  feelings  when 
you  send  his  only  son  to  join  one  he,  perhaps,  will  call  a 
rebel." 

"  If  Earl  Bothwell  considered  himself  a  vassal  of  Edward's, 
he  would  not  now  be  with  Lord  Loch-awe.  From  the  moment 
that  gallant  Highlander  retired  to  Argyleshire,  the  King  of 
England  regarded  his  adherents  with  suspicion.  Bothwell's 
present  visit  to  Loch-awe,  you  see,  is  sufficient  to  sanction  the 
plunder  of  this  castle  by  the  peaceful  government  you  approve. 
You  saw  the  opening  of  those  proceedings.  And  had  they 
come  to  their  dreadful  issue,  where,  my  dear  Joanna,  would 
now  be  your  home,  your  husband,  your  children  ?  It  was  the 
arm  of  the  brave  chief  of  Ellerslie  which  saved  them  from  de- 
struction." 

Lady  Mar  shuddered.  "  I  admit  the  truth  of  what  you  say. 
But,  oh  !  is  it  not  hard  to  put  my  all  to  the  hazard ;  to  see  the 
bloody  field  on  one  side  of  my  beloved  Donald,  and  the  mortal 
scaffold  on  the  other  ?  " 

"  Hush  !"  cried  the  earl;  "it  is  justice  that  beckons  me,  and 
victory  will  receive  me  to  her  arms.  Let,  0  Power  above  ! " 
exclaimed  he,  in  the  fervor  of  enthusiasm;  "let  the  victori- 
ous field  for  Scotland  be  Donald  Mar's  grave,  rather  than 
doom  him  to  live  a  witness  of  her  miseries ! " 

"  I  cannot  stay  to  hear  you,"  answered  the  countess ;  "  I 
must  invoke  the  Virgin  to  give  me  courage  to  be  a  patriot's 
wife ;  at  present,  your  words  are  daggers  to  me." 

In  uttering  this  she  hastily  withdrew,  and  left  the  earl  to 
muse  on  the  past,  to  concert  plans  for  the  portentous 
future. 


BOTHWELL    CASTLE.  55 

CHAPTER    VII. 

BOTHWELL    CASTLE. 

MEANWHILE  the  Lady  Helen  had  retired  to  her  own  apart- 
ments. Lord  Mar's  banner  being  brought  to  her  from  the 
armory,  she  sat  down  to  weave  into  its  silken  texture  the 
amber  locks  of  the  Scottish  chief.  Admiring  their  softness 
and  beauty,  while  her  needle  flew  she  pictured  to  herself  the 
fine  countenance  they  had  once  adorned. 

The  duller  extremities  of  the  hair,  which  a  sadder  liquid 
than  that  which  now  dropped  from  her  eyes  had  rendered 
stiff  and  difficult  to  entwine  with  the  warp  of  the  silk,  seemed 
to  adhere  to  her  fingers.  Helen  almost  shrank  from  the  touch. 
"  Unhappy  lady  !"  sighed  she  to  herself ;  "what  a  pang  must 
have  rent  her  heart  when  the  stroke  of  so  cruel  a  death  tore 
her  from  such  a  husband !  and  how  must  he  have  loved  her, 
when  for  her  sake  he  thus  forswears  all  future  joys  but  those 
which  camps  and  victories  may  yield !  Ah,  what  would  I  give 
to  be  my  cousin  Murray,  to  bear  this  pennon  at  his  side  ! 
What  would  I  give  to  reconcile  so  admirable  a  being  to  happi- 
ness again  —  to  weep  his  griefs,  or  smile  him  into  comfort ! 
To  be  that  man's  friend  would  be  a  higher  honor  than  to  be 
Edward's  queen." 

Her  heart  was  thus  discoursing  with  itself  when  a  page 
opened  the  door,  from  her  cousin,  who  begged  admittance. 
She  had  just  fastened  the  flowing  charge  into  its  azure  field, 
and  while  embroidering  the  motto,  gladly  assented. 

"  You  know  not,  my  good  old  man,"  said  the  gallant  Murray 
to  Halbert,  as  he  conducted  him  across  the  galleries,  "  what  a 
noble  mind  is  contained  in  that  lovely  young  creature.  I  was 
brought  up  with  her,  and  to  the  sweet  contagion  of  her  taste 
do  I  owe  that  love  of  true  glory  which  carries  me  to  the  side 
of  Sir  William  Wallace.  The  virtuous  only,  can  awaken  any 
interest  in  her  heart ;  and  in  these  degenerate  days,  long  might 
have  been  its  sleep  had  not  the  history  which  my  uncle  re- 
counted of  your  brave  master  aroused  her  attention,  and  filled 
her  with  an  admiration  equal  to  my  own.  I  know  she  rejoices 
in  my  present  destination.  And  to  prevent  her  hearing  from 
your  own  lips  all  you  have  now  told  me  of  the  mild,  as  well  as 
heroic,  virtues  of  my  intended  commander,  all  you  have  said 
of  the  heroism  of  his  wife,  would  be  depriving  her  of  a  mourn- 
ful pleasure,  only  to  be  appreciated  by  a  heart  such  as  hers." 


56  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

The  gray-haired  bard  of  Ellerslie,  who  had  ever  received 
the  dearest  rewards  of  his  songs  in  the  smiles  of  its  mistress, 
did  not  require  persuasion  to  appear  before  the  gentle  Lady 
of  Mar ,  or  to  recite  in  her  ears  the  story  of  departed  loveli- 
ness, fairer  than  poet  ever  feigned. 

Helen  rose  as  he  and  her  cousin  appeared.  Murray  ap- 
proved the  execution  of  her  work,  and  Halbert,  with  a  full 
heart,  took  the  pennon  in  his  hand.  "  Ah  !  little  did  my  deai 
lady  think,"  exclaimed  he,  "  that  one  of  these  loved  locks  would 
ever  be  suspended  on  a  staff  to  lead  men  to  battle  !  What 
changes  have  a  few  days  made  !  She,  the  gentlest  of  women, 
laid  in  a  bloody  grave  ;  and  he,  the  most  benevolent  of  human 
beings,  wielding  an  exterminating  sword  !  " 

"You  speak  of  her  grave,  venerable  man,"  inquired  Helen; 
"had  you,  then,  an  opportunity  of  performing  the  rites  of 
sepulture  to  her  remains  ? " 

"  No,  madam,"  replied  he ;  "  after  the  worthy  English 
soldier,  now  in  this  castle,  assisted  me  to  place  her  precious 
body  in  my  lord's  oratory,  I  had  no  opportunity  of  returning 
to  give  her  a  more  holy  grave." 

"  Alas  ! "  cried  Helen ;  "  then  her  sacred  relics  have  been 
consumed  in  the  burning  house  ! " 

"  I  hope  not,"  rejoined  Halbert ;  "  the  chapel  I  speak  of  is 
at  some  distance  from  the .  main  building.  It  was  excavated 
in  the  rock  by  Sir  Ronald  Crawford,  who  gave  the  name  of 
Ellerslie  to  this  estate,  in  compliment  to  Sir  William's  place 
of  birth  in  Renfrewshire,  and  bestowed  it  on  the  bridal  pair. 
Since  then  the  Ellerslie  of  Clydesdale  has  been  as  dear  to  my 
master  as  that  of  the  Carth ;  and  well  it  might  be,  for  it  was 
not  only  the  home  of  all  his  wedded  joys,  but  under  its  roof 
his  mother,  the  Lady  Margaret  Crawford,  drew  her  first  breath. 
Ah !  woe  is  me !  that  happy  house  is  now,  like  herself,  reduced 
to  cold,  cold  ashes !  She  married  Sir  Malcolm  Wallace,  and 
he  is  gone  too!  Both  the  parents  of  my  honored  master 
died  in  the  bloom  of  their  lives  ;  and  a  grievous  task  will  it 
be  to  whoever  is  to  tell  the  good  Sir  Ronald  that  the  last 
sweet  flower  of  Ellerslie  is  now  cut  down  !  that  the  noblest 
branch  of  his  own  stem  is  torn  from  the  soil  to  which  he  had 
transplanted  it,  and  cast  far  away  into  the  waste  wilder- 
ness!"1 

1  The  Ellerslie  in  Renfrewshire  here  referred  to,  and  which  was  the  birthplace  of  Sir 
William  Wallace,  and  the  hereditary  property  of  his  father,  Sir  Malcolm  Wallace,  was 
situated  in  the  Abbey  parish  of  Paisley,  three  miles  west  of  the  town  of  Paisley,  and 
nine  from  Glasgow.  A  large  and  old  oak,  still  called  Wallace's  Oak,  stands  close  to  the 
road  from  Paisley  to  Beith,  and  within  a  short  distance  from  it  once  stood  the  manor  of 
Ellerslie.  This  veneruble  name  is  now  corrupted  into  Elderslie;  and  the  estate  has 


BOTHWELL    CASTLE.  57 

The  tears  of  the  venerable  harper  bore  testimony  to  his  inward 
resolve  that  this  messenger  should  not  be  himself.  Lady 
Helen,  who  had  fallen  into  a  reverie  during  the  latter  part  of 
his  speech,  now  spoke,  and  with  something  of  eagerness. 

"  Then  we  may  hope,"  rejoined  she,  "  that  the  oratory  has 
not  only  escaped  the  flames,  but  perhaps  the  access  of  the 
English  soldiers  ?  Would  it  not  comfort  your  lord  to  have 
that  sweet  victim  entombed  according  to  the  rites  of  the 
Church  ?  " 

"  Surely,  my  lady  ;  but  how  can  that  be  done  ?  He  thinks 
her  remains  were  lost  in  the  conflagration  of  Ellerslie ;  and 
for  fear  of  precipitating  him  into  the  new  dangers  which 
might  have  menaced  him  had  he  sought  to  bring  away  her 
body,  I  did  not  disprove  his  mistake." . 

"But  her  body  shall  be  brought  away,"  rejoined  Lady 
Helen  ;  "  it  shall  have  holy  burial." 

"  To  effect  this,  command  my  services,"  exclaimed  Murray. 

Helen  thanked  him  for  an  assistance  which  would  render 
the  completion  of  her  design  easy.  The  English  soldier  as 
guide,  and  a  troop  from  Both  well,  must  accompany  him. 

"  Alas  !  my  young  lo'rd,"  interposed  Halbert,  "  suppose  you 
should  meet  some  of  the  English  still  loitering  there." 

"  And  what  of  that,  my  honest  Halbert,  would  not  I  and  my 
trusty  band  make  them  clear  the  way  ?  Is  it  not  to  give  com- 
fort to  the  deliverer  of  my  uncle  that  I  seek  the  glen  ?  and 
shall  anything  in  mortal  shape  make  Andrew  Murray  turn  his 
back  ?  No,  Halbert,  I  was  not  born  on  Saint  Andrew's  day 
for  naught ;  and  by  his  bright  cross  I  swear  either  to  lay 
Lady  Wallace  in  the  tomb  of  my  ancestors,  or  to  leave  my 
bones  to  blanch  on  the  grave  of  hers." 

Helen  loved  the  resolution  of  her  cousin;  and  believing  that 
the  now  ravaged  Ellerslie  had  no  attractions  to  hold  marauders 
amongst  its  ruins,  she  dismissed  Lord  Andrew  to  make  his 
preparations,  and  turned  herself  to  prefer  her  suit  accordingly 
to  her  father. 

Ere  Halbert  withdrew  he  respectfully  put  her  hand  to  his 
lips.  "G-ood  night,"  continued  she  ;  "ere  you  see  me  again,  I 
trust  the  earthly  part  of  the  angel  now  in  paradise  will  be 
safe  within  these  towers."  He  poured  a  thousand  blessings 
on  her  head,  and  almost  thought  that  he  saw  in  her  beautiful 
form  one  of  heaven's  inhabitants,  sent  to  bear  away  his  dear 
mistress  to  her  divine  abode. 

become  the  property  of  Archibald    Spiers,   Esq.,  M.P.  for  Renfrewshire.    For  this 
topographical  account  I  am  indebted  to  u  Renfrewshire  gentleman.  —  (1809.) 


58  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

On  entering  her  father's  apartment,  Lady  Helen  found  him 
alone.  She  repeated  to  him  the  substance  of  her  conversation 
with  Wallace's  faithful  servant;  "  and  my  wish  is,"  continued 
she,  "  to  have  the  murdered  lady's  remains  entombed  in  the 
cemetery  of  this  castle." 

The  earl  approved  her  request  with  expressions  of  satis- 
faction at  the  filial  affection  which  so  lively  a  gratitude  to  his 
preserver  evinced. 

"  May  I  then,  my  dear  father,"  returned  she,  "  have  your 
permission  to  pay  our  debt  of  gratitude  to  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace, to  the  utmost  of  our  power  ?  " 

"  You  are  at  liberty,  my  noble  child,  to  do  -as  you  please. 
My  vassals,  my  coffers,  are  all  at  your  command." 

Helen  kissed  his  hand.  "May  I  have  what  I  please  from 
the  Both  well  armory  ?  " 

"Command  even  there,"  said  the  earl;  "your  uncle  Both- 
well  is  too  true  a  Scot  to  grudge  a  sword  in  so  pious  a  cause." 

Helen  threw  her  arms  about  her  father's  neck,  thanking  him 
tenderly,  and  with  a  beating  heart  retired  to  prosecute  her 
plans.  Murray,  who  met  her  in  the  anteroom,  informed  her 
that  fifty  men,  the  sturdiest  in  the  glen,  awaited  her  orders ; 
while  she,  telling  her  cousin  of  the  earl's  approval,  took  the 
sacred  banner  in  her  hand,  and  followed  him  to  the  gallery  in 
the  hall. 

The  moment  she  appeared,  a  shout  of  joy  bade  her  welcome. 
Murray  waved  his  hand  in  token  of  silence,  while  she,  smiling 
with  the  benignity  that  spoke  her  angel  errand,  spoke  with 
agitation :  "  My  brave  friends,"  said  she,  "  I  thank  you  for 
the  ardor  with  which,  by  this  night's  enterprise,  you  assist 
me  to  pay,  in  part,  the  everlasting  tribute  due  to  the  man  who 
preserved  to  me  the  blessing  of  a  father." 
,  "  And  to  us,  noble  lady,"  cried  they,  "the  most  generous  of 
chiefs." 

"  With  that  spirit,  then,"  returned  she,  "  I  address  ye  with 
greater  confidence.  Who  amongst  you  will  shrink  from  fol- 
lowing this  standard  to  the  field  for  Scotland's  honor  ?  Who 
will  refuse  to  make  himself  the  especial  guardian  of  the  life 
of  Sir  William  Wallace  ?  and  who,  in  the  moment  of  peril, 
will  not  stand  by  him  to  the  last  ?  " 

"  None  are  here,"  cried  a  young  man,  advancing  before  his 
fellows,  "  who  would  not  gladly  die  in  his  defence." 

"  We  swear  it ! "  burst  from  every  lip  at  once. 

She  bowed  her  head,  and  said,  "  Return  from  Ellerslie  to- 
morrow with  the  bier  of  its  sainted  mistress.  I  will  then 


BOTHWELL    CASTLE.  59 

bestow  upon  every  man  in  this  band  a  war-bonnet  plumed 
with  my  colors  ;  and  this  banner  shall  then  lead  you  to  the 
side  of  Sir  William  Wallace.  In  the  shock  of  battle  look  at 
its  golden  ensign,  and  remember  that  God  not  only  armeth  the 
patriots  hand,  but  shieldeth  his  heart.  In  this  faith  be  ye 
the  bucklers  which  Heaven  sends  to  guard  the  life  of  Wal- 
lace; and  so  honored,  exult  in  your  station,  and  expect  the 
future  gratitude  of  Scotland." 

"Wallace  and  Lady  Helen!  to  death  or  liberty !"  was  the 
animated  response  to  this  exhortation;  and  smiling,  and  cross 
ing  her  hands  over  her  bosom,  in  token  of  thanks  to  them  and 
to  Heaven,  she  retired  in  the  midst  of  their  acclamations. 
Murray,  ready  armed  for  his  expedition,  met  her  at  the  door. 
Restored  to  his  usual  vivacity  by  the  spirit-moving  emotions 
which  the  present  scene  awakened  in  his  heart,  he  forgot  the 
horrors  which  had  aroused  his  zeal,  in  the  glory  of  some  an- 
ticipated victory  ;  and  giving  her  a  gay  salutation,  led  her  back 
to  her  apartments,  where  the  English  soldier  awaited  her  com- 
mands. Lady  Helen,  with  a  gentle  grace,  commended  his 
noble  resentment  of  Heselrigge's  violence. 

"  Lands  in  Mar  shall  be  yours,"  added  she,  "  or  a  post  of 
honor  in  the  little  army  the  earl  is  now  going  to  raise. 
Speak  but  the  word,  and  you  shall  find,  worthy  Englishman, 
that  neither  a  Scotsman  nor  his  daughter  know  what  it  is  to 
be  ungrateful." 

The  blood  mounted  into  the  soldier's  cheek.  "  I  thank  you, 
sweetest  lady,  for  this  generous  offer ;  but,  as  I  am  an  English- 
man, I  dare  not  accept  it.  My  arms  are  due  to  my  own 
country ;  and  whether  I  am  tied  to  it  by  lands  and  posses- 
sions, or  have  naught  but  my  English  blood  and  my  oath  to 
my  king  to  bind  me,  still  I  should  be  equally  unwarranted  in 
breaking  those  bonds.  I  left  Heselrigge  because  he  dis- 
honored my  country,  and  for  me  to  forswear  her  would  be 
to  make  myself  infamous.  Hence  all  I  ask  is,  that  after  I 
have  this  night  obeyed  your  gracious  commands  in  leading 
your  men  to  Ellerslie,  the  Earl  of  Mar  will  allow  me  instantly 
to  depart  for  the  nearest  port." 

Lady  Helen  replied  that  she  revered  his  sentiments  too  sin- 
cerely to  insult  them  by  any  persuasions  to  the  contrary ; 
and  taking  a  diamond  clasp  from  her  bosom,  she  put  it  into 
his  hand :  "  Wear  that  in  remembrance  of  your  virtue  and  of 
Helen  Mar's  gratitude."  The  man  kissed  it  respectfully,  and 
bowing,  swore  to  preserve  so  distinguishing  a  gift  to  the 
latest  hour  of  his  existence. 


60  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Helen  retired  to  her  chamber  to  finish  her  task,  and  Murray, 
bidding  her  good  night,  repaired  to  the  earl's  apartments  to 
take  his  final  orders  before' he  and  his  troop  set  out  for  the 
ruins  of  Ellerslie. 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

BOTHWELL    CHAPEL. 

NIGHT  having  passed  over  the  sleepless  heads  of  the  in- 
habitants of  Bothwell  castle,  as  soon  as  the  sun  arose  the 
Earl  of  Mar  was  carried  from  his  chamber  and  laid  on  a 
couch  in  the  state  apartment.  His  lady  had  not  yet  left  the 
room  of  his  daughter,  by  whose  side  she  had  lain  the  whole 
night,  in  hopes  of  infecting  her  with  the  fears  which  possessed 
herself. 

Helen  replied  that  she  could  see  no  reason  for  such  direful 
apprehensions,  if  her  father,  instead  of  joining  Wallace  in 
person,  would,  when  he  had  sent  him  succors,  retire  with  his 
family  into  the  Highlands,  and  there  await  the  issue  of  the 
contest.  "It  is  too  late  to  retreat,  dear  madam,"  continued 
she ;  "  the  first  blow  against  the  public  enemy  was  struck  in 
defence  of  Lord  Mar,  and  would  you  have  my  father  act  so 
base  a  part  as  to  abandon  his  preserver  to  the  wrath  such  gen- 
erous assistance  has  provoked  ?  "  , 

"  Alas,  my  child !  "  answered  the  countess,  "  what  great  ser- 
vice will  he  have  done  to  me  or  to  your,  father  if  he  deliver 
him  from  one  danger,  only  to  plunge  him  into  another? 
Edward's  power  in  this  country  is  too  great  to  be  resisted 
now.  Have  not  most  of  our  barons  sworn  fealty  to  him  ?  and 
are  not  the  potent  families  of  the  Cummin,  the  Soulis,  and 
the  March  all  in  his  interest  ?  You  may  perhaps  say  that 
most  of  these  are  my  relations,  and  that  I  may  turn  them 
which  way  I  will ;  but  if  I  have  no  influence  with  a  husband, 
it  would  be  madness  to  expect  it  over  more  distant  kindred. 
How  then,  with  such  a  host  against  him,  can  your  infatuated 
father  venture,  without  despair,  to  support  the  man  who  breaks 
the. peace  with  England  ?  " 

"  Who  can  despair,  honored  lady,"  returned  Helen,  "  in  so 
just  a  cause  ?  Let  us  rather  believe  with  our  good  King 
David,  that  '  Honor  must  hope  always ;  for  no  real  evil  can 
befall  the  virtuous,  either  in  this  world  or  in  the  next/ 
Were  I  a  man,  the  justice  that  leads  on  the  brave  Wallace 


BOTHWELL    CHAPEL.  61 

would,  nerve  my  arm  with  the  strength  of  a  host.  Besides, 
look  at  our  country :  God's  gift  of  freedom  is  stamped  upon 
it.  Our  mountains  are  his  seal.  Plains  are  the  proper  terri- 
tories of  tyranny :  there  the  armies  of  a  usurper  may  extend 
themselves  with  ease,  leaving  no  corner  unoccupied  in  which 
patriotism  might  shelter  or  treason  hide.  But  mountains, 
glens,  morasses,  lakes,  set  bounds  to  conquest;  and  amidst 
these  stands  the  impregnable  seat  of  liberty.  To  such  a  for- 
tress, to  the  deep  defiles  of  Loch  Katrine  or  to  the  cloud-cur- 
tained heights  of  Corryarraick,  I  would  have  my  father  retire. 
In  safety  he  may  there  watch  the  footsteps  of  our  mountain- 
goddess,  till,  led  by  her  immortal  champion,  she  plants  her 
standard  again  upon  the  hills  of  Scotland." 

The  complexion  of  the  animated  Helen  shone  with  a  radiant 
glow.  Her  heart  panted  with  a  foretaste  of  the  delight  she 
would  feel,  when  all  her  generous  wishes  should  be  fulfilled ; 
and  pressing  the  now  completed  banner  to  her  breast,  with  an 
enthusiasm  she  believed  prophetic,  her  lips  moved,  though  her 
voice  did  not  utter  the  inexpressible  rapture  of  her  heart. 

Lady  Mar  looked  at  her.  "It  is  well,  romantic  girl,  that 
you  are  of  my  own  powerless  sex ;  had  it  been  otherwise, 
your  rash-headed  disobedience  might  have  made  me  rue  the 
day  I  became  your  father's  wife." 

"  Sax,"  returned  Helen,  mildly,  "could  not  have  altered  my 
sense  of  duty.  Whether  man  or  woman,  I  would  obey  you 
in  all  things  consistent  with  my  duty  to  a  higher  power ;  but 
when  that  commands,  then,  by  the  ordinance  of  Heaven,  we 
must  /leave  father  and  mother,  and  cleave  unto  it.' " 

"  And  what,  0  foolish  Helen !  do  you  call  a  higher  duty 
than  that  of  a  child  to  a  parent,  or  a  husband  to  his  wife  ?  " 

"Duty  of  any  kind,"  respectfully  answered  the  young 
daughter  of  Mar,"  cannot  be  transgressed  with  innocence. 
ISTor  would  it  be  any  relinquishing  of  duty  to  you  should 
my  father  leave  you  to  take  up  arms  in  the  assertion  of  his 
country's  rights.  Her  rights  are  your  safety;  and,  there- 
fore, in  defending  them  a  husband  or  a  son  best  shows  his 
sense  of  domestic  as  well  as  of  public  duty." 

"  Who  taught  you  this  sophistry,  Helen  ?  Not  your  heart, 
for  it  would  start  at  the  idea  of  your  father's  blood." 

Helen  turned  pale.  "  Perhaps,  madam,  had  not  the  preser- 
vation of  my  father's  blood  occasioned  such  malignity  from 
the  English,  that  nothing  but  an  armed  force  can  deliver 
his  preserver,  I  too  might  be  content  to  see  Scotland  in  slav- 
ery. But  now,  to  wish  my  father  to  shrink  behind  the  excuse 


62  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

of  far-strained  family  duties,  and  to  abandon  Sir  William 
Wallace  to  the  .bloodhounds  who  hunt  his  life,  would  be  to 
devote  the  name  of  Mar  to  infamy,  and  deservedly  bring  a 
curse  upon  his  offspring." 

"  Then  it  is  to  preserve  Sir  William  Wallace  you  are  thus 
anxious.  Your  spirit  of  freedom  is  now  disallowed,  and  all  this 
mighty  gathering  is  for  him.  My  husband,  his  vassals,  your 
cousin,  and,  in  short,  the  sequestration  of  the  estates  of  Mar 
and  Bothwell,  are  all  to  be  put  to  the  hazard  on  account  of  a 
frantic  outlaw ;  to  whom,  since  the  loss  of  his  wife,  I  should 
suppose  death  would  be  preferable  to  any  gratitude  we  can 
pay  him." 

Lady  Helen,  at  this  ungrateful  language,  inwardly  thanked 
Heaven  that  she  inherited  no  part  of  the  blood  which  animated 
so  unfeeling  a  heart.  "That  he  is  an  outlaw,  Lady  Mar, 
springs  from  us.  That  death  is  the  preferable  comforter  of 
his  sorrows,  also,  he  owes  to  us ;  for  was  it  not  for  my  father's 
sake  that  his  wife  fell,  and  that  he  himself  was  driven  into 
the  wilds  ?  I  do  not,  then,  blush  for  making  his  preservation 
my  first  prayer ;  and  that  he  may  achieve  the  freedom  of 
Scotland  is  my  second." 

"  We  shall  see  whose  prayers  will  be  answered  first,"  re- 
turned Lady  Mar,  rising  coldly  from  her  seat.  "  My  saints 
are  perhaps  nearer  than  yours,  and  before  the  close  of  this 
day  you  will  have  reason  to  repent  such  extravagant  opin- 
ions. I  do  not  understand  them." 

"Till  now,  you  never  disapproved  them." 

"I  allowed  them  in  your  infancy,"  replied  the  countess., 
"because  I  thought  they  went  no  further  than  a  minstrel's 
song ;  but  since  they  are  become  so  dangerous,  I  rue  the  hour 
in  which  I  complied  with  the  entreaties  of  Sir  Richard  Mait- 
land,  and  permitted  you  and  your  sister  to  remain  at  Thirle- 
stane,  to  imbibe  these  romantic  ideas  from  the  wizard  of 
Ercildown.1  Had  not  Sir  Richard  been  your  own  mother's 
father  I  would  not  have  been  so  easily  prevailed  on,  and 
thus  am  I  rewarded  for  my  indulgence." 

"I  hope,  honored  madam,"  said  Helen,  still  wishing  to 
soften  the  displeasure  of  her  step-mother,  —  "I  hope  you  will 
never  be  ill-rewarded  for  that  indulgence,  either  by  my  grand- 
father, my  sister,  or  myself.  Isabella,  in  the  quiet  of  Thirle- 
stane,  has  no  chance  of  giving  you  the  offence  that  I  do ;  and  I 

1  Few  personages  are  so  renowned  in  tradition  as  Thomas  of  Ercildown,  usually  called 
The  Rhymer.  He  was  a  poet  and  a  sage,  and  believed  by  his  contemporaries  to  be  a 
prophet.  He  was  born  at  Ercildown,  a  village  on  the  Leeder  (or  Lauder),  where  th« 
ruins  of  his  paternal  castle,  called  Learinout  Tower,  still  remain.  —  (1809.) 


BOTH  WELL    CHAPEL.  63 

am  forced  to  offend  you,  because  I  cannot  disobey  my  con- 
science." A  tear  stood  in  the  eye  of  Lady  Helen.  "  Cannot 
you,  dear  Lady  Mar,"  continued  she,  forcing  a  smile,  "  pardon 
the  daughter  of  your  early  friend,  my  mother,  who  loved  you 
as  a  sister  ?  Cannot  you  forgive  her  Helen  for  revering  jus- 
tice, even  more  than  your  favor  ?  " 

More  influenced  by  the  sweet  humility  of  her  daughter-in- 
law  than  by  the  ingenuous  eloquence  with  which  she  main- 
tained her  sentiments,  or  with  the  appeal  to  the  memory  of 
the  first  Lady  Mar,  the  countess  relaxed  the  frigid  air  she 
had  assumed ;  and  kissing  her,  with  many  renewed  injunctions 
to  bless  the  hand  that  might  put  a  final  stop  to  so  ruinous  an 
enthusiasm  in  her  family,  she  quitted  the  room. 

As  soon  as  Helen  was  alone,  she  forgot  the  narrow-minded 
arguments  of  the  countess ;  and  calling  to  recollection  the 
generous  permission  with  which  her  father  had  endowed  her 
the  night  before,  she  wrapped  herself  in  her  mantle,  and,  at- 
tended by  her  page,  proceeded  to  the  armory.  The  armorer 
was  already  there,  having  just  given  out  arms  for  three  hun- 
dred men,  who,  by  the  earl's  orders,  were  to  assemble  by  noon 
on  Bothwell  moor. 

Helen  told  the  man  she  came  for  the  best  suit  of  armor  in 
his  custody  —  "one  of  the  most  excellent  proof." 

He  drew  from  an  oaken  chest  a  coat  of  black  mail  studded 
with  gold.  Helen  admired  its  strength  and  beauty.  "  It  is 
the  richest  in  all  Scotland,"  answered  he,  "and  was  worn  by 
our  great  Canmore  in  all  his  victories." 

"  Then  it  is  worthy  its  destination.  Bring  it,  with  its  helmet 
and  sword,  to  my  apartment." 

The  armorer  took  it  up,  and,  accompanied  by  the  page  car- 
rying the  lighter  parts,  followed  her  into  the  western  tower. 

When  Helen  was  again  alone,  it  being  yet  very  early  in  the 
morning,  she  employed  herself  in  pluming  the  casque,  and 
forming  the  scarf  she  meant  should  adorn  her  present.  Thus 
time  flew,  till  the  sand-glass  told  her  it  was  the  eighth  hour. 
But  ere  she  had  finished  her  task  she  was  roused  from  the 
profound  stillness  in  which  that  part  of  the  castle  lay,  by  the 
doleful  lament  of  the  troop  returning  from  Ellerslie. 

She  dropped  the  half-formed  scarf  from  her  hand,  and 
listened,  without  daring  to  draw  her  breath,  to  the  deep-toned 
lamentations.  She  thought  that  she  had  never  before  heard 
the  dirge  of  her  country  so  piercing,  so  thrillingly  awful.  Her 
head  fell  on  the  armor  and  scarf.  "  Sweet  lady,"  sighed 
she  to  herself,  "  who  is  it  that  dares  thus  invade  thy  duties  ? 


64  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

But  my  gratitude  —  gratitude  to  thy  once-loved  lord  will  not 
offend  thy  pure  spirit."  Again  the  mournful  wailings  on  the 
air ;  and  with  a  convulsion  of  feelings  she  could  not  restrain, 
she  threw  herself  on  her  knees,  and  leaning  her  head  on  the 
newly  adorned  helmet,  wept  profusely. 

Murray  entered  the  room  unobserved.  "  Helen,  my  dear 
cousin !  "  cried  he.  She  started,  and  rising,  apologized  for  her 
tears  by  owning  the  truth.  He  now  told  her  that  the  body 
of  the  deceased  lady  was  deposited  in  the  chapel  of  the  castle, 
and  that  the  priests  from  the  adjacent  priory  only  awaited  her 
presence  to  consign  it,  with  the  Church's  rites,  to  its  tomb. 

Helen  retired  for  a  few  minutes  to  recover  herself,  and  then 
reentering,  covered  with  a  black  veil,  was  led  by  her  cousin  to 
the  awful  scene. 

The  bier  lay  before  the  altar.  The  prior  of  St.  Fillan, 
in  his  holy  vestments,  stood  at  its  head;  a  band  of  monks 
were  ranged  on  each  side.  The  maids  of  Lady  Helen,  in 
mourning  garments,  met  their  mistress  at  the  portal.  They 
had  wrapped  the  beautiful  corpse  in  the  shroud  prepared  for 
it ;  and  now  having  laid  it,  strewed  with  flowers,  upon  the  bier, 
they  advanced  to  their  trembling  lady,  expecting  her  to  ap- 
prove their  services.  Helen  drew  near  —  she  bowed  to  the 
priests.  One  of  the  women  put  her  hand  on  the  pall,  to  un- 
cover the  once  lovely  face  of  the  murdered  Marion.  Lady 
Helen  hastily  resisted  the  woman's  motion,  by  laying  her  hand 
also  upon  the  pall.  The  chill  of  death  struck  through  the 
velvet  to  her  touch.  She  turned  pale ;  and  waving  her  hand 
to  the  prior  to  begin,  the  bier  was  lowered  by  the  priests  into 
the  tomb  beneath.  As  it  descended,  Helen  sunk  upon  her 
knees,  and  the  anthem  for  departed  souls  was  raised.  The 
pealing  notes,  as  they  rose  and  swelled,  seemed  to  bear  up  the 
spirit  of  the  sainted  Marion  to  its  native  heaven ;  and  the 
tears  which  now  flowed  from  the  eyes  of  Helen,  as  they 
mingled  with  her  pious  aspirations,  seemed  the  balm  of  para- 
dise descending  upon  her  soul. 

When  all  was  over,  the  venerable  Halbert,  who  had  con- 
cealed his  overwhelming  sorrow  behind  a  pillar,  threw  himself 
on  the  cold  stone  which  now  closed  the  last  chamber  of  his 
mistress.  With  faint  cries  he  gave  way  to  the  woe  that  shook 
his  aged  bosom,  and  called  on  death  to  lay  him  low  with  her. 
The  women  of  Lady  Helen  again  chanted  forth  their  melan- 
choly wailings  for  the  dead;  and  unable  longer  to  bear  the 
scene,  she  grasped  the  arm  of  her  cousin,  and  with  difficulty 
walked  from  the  chapel. 


BOTHWELL    DUNGEONS.  65 

CHAPTEE    IX. 

BOTHWELL    DUNGEONS. 

HAVING  rewarded  his  trusty  followers  with,  their  promised 
war-bonnets  from  the  hand  of  Helen,  and  despatched  them 
onward  to  the  foot  of  Cartlane  craigs,  to  await  his  arrival  with 
the  larger  levy,  Murray  proceeded  to  the  apartment  of  Lord 
Mar  to  inform,  him  how  far  he  had  executed  his  commands, 
and  to  learn  his  future  orders.  He  found  the  veteran  earl 
surrounded  by  arms  and  armed  men;  fifty  brave  Scots,  who 
were  to  lead  the  three  hundred  then  on  Bothwell  moorj  were 
receiving  their  spears  and  swords  and  other  weapons  from  the 
hands  of  their  lord. 

"  Bear  these  stoutly,  my  gallant  countrymen,"  cried  he,  "  and 
remember,  that  although  the  dragon  l  of  England  has  burnt  up 
your  harvests  and  laid  our  homes  in  ashes,  there  is  yet  a  lion 
in  Scotland  to  wither  his  power  and  glut  you  with  his  spoil.'7 

The  interest  of  the  scene  and  the  clatter  of  the  arms  he  was 
dispensing  prevented  anybody  present  hearing  any  sound  of 
what  was  taking  place  beyond  the  room.  But  the  earl  had 
hardly  uttered  those  words  when  the  double-doors  of  the 
apartment  were  abruptly  opened,  and  all  eyes  were  blasted  by 
the  sudden  sight  of  Lord  Soulis  2  and  a  man  in  splendid  English 
armor,  with  a  train  of  Southron  soldiers,  following  this  recre- 
ant Scot. 

The  earl  started  from  his  couch.  "Lord  Soulis,  what  is 
the  occasion  of  this  unapprised  visit  ?  " 

"  The  ensign  of  the  liege  lord  of  Scotland  is  my  warrant/* 
replied  he :  "  you  are  my  prisoner,  and  in  the  name  of  King, 
Edward  of  England  I  take  possession  of  this  castle." 

"  Never !  "  cried  the  earl,  "  while  there  is  a  man's  arm 
within  it." 

"  Man  and  woman,''  returned  Lord  Soulis,  "  must  surrender 
to  Edward.  Three  thousand  English  have  seized  three  hun- 
dred of  your  insurgents  on  Bothwell  moor.  The  castle  is 
surrounded,  and  resistance  impossible.  Throw  down  your 
arms  !  "  cried  he,  turning  to  the  clansmen,  who  thronged  round 

1  The  standard  of  Edward  I.  was  a  golden  dragon  —  a  very  ancient  British  standard, 
but  derived  from  pagan  times. —  (1809.) 

2  William  Lord  Soulis  was  a  powerful  chief  in  the  south  of  Scotland.    He  founded 
pretensions  to  the  Scottish  crown  on  his  descent  from  an  illegitimate  daughter  of  Alex- 
ander  II.    Soulis  was  a  traitor  to  his  country,  and  so  notoriously  wicked  that  tradition 
endows  him  with  the  power  of  infernal  necromancy     His  castle  of  Hermitage,  in  Teviofr 
dale,  is  still  ahown  as  the  resort  of  malignant  demons.  —  (1809.) 

VOL.  I.  — 5 


66  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

their  chief,  "or  be  hanged  for  rebellion  against  your  lawful 
sovereign." 

"  Our  lawful  sovereign,"  returned  a  young  man  who  stood 
near  him,  "  must  be  the  enemy  of  Edward ;  and  to  none  else 
will  we  yield  our  arms." 

"  Traitor ! "  cried  the  English  commander,  while  with  a 
sudden  and  dreadful  stroke  of  his  battle-axe  he  laid  the  body 
of  the  generous  Scot  a  headless  corpse  at  his  feet.  A  direfu1 
cry  proceeded  from  his  enraged  comrades.  Every  sword  wac 
drawn ;  and  before  the  bewildered  and  soul-struck  earl  could 
utter  a  word,  the  furies  blew  their  most  horrible  blast  through 
the  chamber ;  and  the  half -frantic  Mar  beheld  his  brave  Scots 
at  one  moment  victorious,  and  in  the  next  the  floor  strewed 
with  their  dead  bodies.  A  new  succession  of  blood-hounds  had 
rushed  in  at  every  door ;  and  before  the  exterminating  sword 
was  allowed  to  rest,  the  whole  of  his  faithful  troops  lay  around 
him,  wounded  and  dying.  Several  had  fallen  across  his  body, 
having  warded  with  their  lives  the  strokes  they  believed 
levelled  at  his.  In  vain  his  voice  had  called  upon  his  men  to 
surrender — in  vain  he  had  implored  the  iron-hearted  Soulis, 
and  his  coadjutor  Aymer  de  Valence,  to  stop  the  havoc  of 
death. 

All  now  lay  in  blood ;  and  the  heat  of  the  room,  thronged  by 
the  victors,  became  so  intolerable  that  De  Valence,  for  his  own 
sake,  ordered  the  earl  to  be  removed  into  another  apartment. 

Meanwhile,  unconscious  of  these  events,  Helen  had  lain 
down  on  her  bed  to  seek  a  few  minutes' .repose ;  and  having 
watched  the  whole  of  the  preceding  night,  was  sunk  into  a 
profound  sleep. 

Murray,  who  was  present  at  the  abrupt  entrance  of  the 
enemy,  no  sooner  heard  them  declare  that  the  castle  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  comparatively  large  army,  than  he  foresaw  all 
would  be  lost.  On  the  instant,  and  before  the  dreadful  signal 
of  carnage  was  given  in  the  fall  of  the  young  Scot,  he  slid  be- 
hind the  canopy  of  his  uncle's  couch,  and  lifting  the  arras,  by 
a  back  door  which  led  to  some  private  rooms,  hastily  made  his 
way  to  the  chamber  of  his  cousin.  As  he  hurried  along,  he 
heard  a  fearful  shout.  He  paused  for  a  moment,  but  thinking 
it  oest,  whatever  might  have  happened,  to  secure  the  safety  oi 
Helen,  he  flew  onward  and  entered  her  room.  She  lay  upon 
the  bed  in  a  deep  sleep.  "Awake,  Helen!"  cried  he;  "for 
your  life  awake  ! " 

She  opened  her  eyes;  but,  without  allowing  her  time  to 
Sj.-eak,  he  hastily  added,  "  The  castle  is  full  of  armed  men  led 


BOTH  WELL    DUNGEONS.  67 

hither  by  the  English  commander  Aymer  de  Valence  and  the 
execrable  Soulis.  Unless  you  fly  through  the  vaulted  passage 
you  will  be  their  prisoner." 

Helen  gazed  at  him  in  terror.  "  Where  is  my  father  ?  Leave 
him,  I  cannot." 

"Fly,  in  pity  to  your  father!  Oh,  do  not  hesitate!  What 
will  be  his  anguish  should  you  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  furi- 
ous man  whose  love  you  have  rejected,  when  it  will  no  longer 
be  in  the  power  of  a  parent  to  preserve  your  person  from  the 
outrages  of  his  eager  and  avengeful  passion !  If  you  had  seen 
Soulis's  threatening  eyes  —  "  He  was  interrupted  by  a  clamor 
in  the  opposite  gallery  and  the  shrieks  of  women.  Helen 
grasped  his  arm.  "Alas,  my  poor  damsels  !  I  will  go  with 
you,  whither  you  will,  to  be  far  from  him." 

As  Murray  threw  his  arm  about  her  waist,  to  impel  her  fail- 
ing steps,  his  eyes  fell  on  the  banner  and  the  suit  of  armor. 

"  All  else  must  be  left,"  exclaimed  he,  seizing  the  banner ; 
and  hurrying  Helen  forward,  he  hastened  with  her  down  the 
stairs  which  led  from  the  western  watch-tower  to  the  vaults 
beneath  the  castle.  On  entering  the  first  cellar,  to  which  a 
dim  light  was  admitted  through  a  small  grating  near  the  top, 
he  looked  round  for  the  archway  that  contained  the  avenue  of 
their  release.  Having  descried  it,  and  raised  one  of  the  large 
flags  which  paved  the  floor,  he  assisted  his  affrighted  cousin 
down  a  short  flight  of  steps  into  the  secret  passage.  "This," 
whispered  he,  "  will  carry  us  in  a  direct  line  to  the  cell  of  the 
prior  of  St.  Fillan's." 

"  But  what  will  become  of  my  father  and  Lady  Mar  ?  This 
flight,  while  they  are  in  danger !  oh,  I  fear  to  complete  it ! " 

"  Rather  fear  the  libertine  Soulis,"  returned  Murray :  "  he 
can  only  make  them  prisoners ;  and  even  that  injury  shall  be 
of  short  duration.  I  will  soon  join  the  brave  Wallace,  and 
then,  my  sweet  cousin,  liberty,  and  a  happy  meeting ! " 

"  Alas  !  his  venerable  harper,"  cried  she,  suddenly  remem- 
bering Halbert;  "should  he  be  discovered  to  have  belonged 
to  Wallace,  he,  too,  will  be  massacred  by  these  merciless 
men." 

Murray  stopped.  "  Have  you  courage  to  remain  in  this 
darkness  alone  ?  If  so,  I  will  seek  Jrim,  and  he  shall  accom- 
pany us." 

Helen  had  courage  for  anything  but  the  dangers  Murray 
might  encounter  by  returning  into  the  castle ;  but  the  gener- 
ous youth  had  entered  too  fully  into  her  apprehensions  con- 
cerning the  old  man  to  be  .withheld.  "  Should  I  be  delayed  in 


68  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

coming  back,"  said  he,  recollecting  the  possibility  of  himself 
being  attacked  and  slain,  "go  forward  to  the  end  of  this 
passage ;  it  will  lead  you  to  a  flight  of  stairs  ;  ascend  them ; 
and  by  drawing  the  bolt  of  a  door  you  will  find  yourself  at 
once  in.  the  prior's  cell." 

"  Talk  not  of  delay,"  replied  Helen ;  "  return  quickly,  and 
I  will  await  you  at  the  entrance  of  the  passage."  So  saying, 
she  swiftly  retraced  with  him  her  steps  to  the  bottom  of  the 
stone  stairs  by  which  they  had  descended.  He  raised  the  flag? 
sprung  out  of  the  aperture,  and  closing  it  down,  left  her  in 
solitude  and  darkness. 

Murray  passed  through  the  first  cellar,  and  was  proceeding 
to  the  second  (amongst  the  catacombs  of  which  lay  the  con- 
cealed entrance  to  the  private  stairs),  when  he  saw  the  great 
gates  of  the  cellar  open,  and  a  large  party  of  English  soldiers 
enter.  They  were  conducted  by  the  butler  of  the  castle,  who 
seemed  to  perform  his  office  very  unwillingly,  while  they 
crowded  in,  thirsty  and  riotous. 

Aware  how  unequal  his  single  arm  would  be  to  contend 
with  such  numbers,  Murray,  at  the  first  glance  of  these  plunder- 
ers, retreated  behind  a  heap  of  casks  in  a  remote  corner. 
While  the  trembling  butler  was  loading  a  dozen  of  the  men 
for  the  refreshment  of  their  masters  above,  the  rest  were 
helping  themselves  from  the  adjacent  catacombs.  Some  left 
the  cellars  with  their  booty,  and  others  remained  to  drink  it 
on  the  spot.  Glad  to  escape  the  insults  of  the  soldiers  who 
lay  wallowing  in  the  wine  Bothwell's  old  servant  quitted  the 
cellar  with  the  last  company  which  bore  flagons  to  their 
comrades  above. 

Murray  listened  anxiously  in  hopes  of  hearing  from  his 
garrulous  neighbors  some  intimation  of  the  fate  of  his  uncle 
and  aunt.  He  hearkened  in  vain,  for  nothing  was  uttered  by 
these  intoxicated  banditti  but  loud  boastings  of  the  number 
each  had  slain  in  the  earl's  apartment,  execrations  against 
the  Scots  for  their  obstinate  resistance,  and  a  thousand  san- 
guinary wishes  that  the  nation  had  but  one  neck  to  strike  off 
at  a  blow. 

How  often,  during  this  conversation,  was  Murray  tempted 
to  rush  out  amongst  them  and  seize  a  desperate  revenge  ! 
But  the  thought  of  his  poor  cousin  now  awaiting  his  return, 
and  perhaps  already  suffering  dreadful  alarms  from  such  ex- 
traordinary uproar,  restrained  him ;  and  unable  to  move  from 
his  hiding-place  without  precipitating  himself  into  instant 
death,  he  remained  nearly  an  hour  in  the  most  painful  anxiety, 


BOTHWELL    DUNGEONS.  69 

watching  the  dropping  to  sleep  of  this  horrid  crew,  one  by 
one. 

When  all  seemed  hushed  —  not  a  voice,  even  in  a  whisper, 
startling  his  ear  —  he  ventured  forth  with  a  stealing  step 
towards  the  slumbering  group.  Like  his  brave  ancestor, 
Gaul,  the  son  of  Morni,  "  he  disdained  to  stab  a  sleeping  foe," 
He  must  pass  them  to  reach  the  private  stairs.  He  paused 
and  listened.  Silence  still  reigned ;  not  even  a  hand  moved, 
so  deeply  were  they  sunk  in  the  fumes  of  wine.  He  took 
courage,  and  flew  with  the  lightness  of  air  to  the  secret  door. 
As  he  laid  his  hand  on  it,  it  opened  from  without,  and  two 
persons  appeared.  By  the  few  rays  which  gleamed  from  the 
expiring  torches  of  the  sleepers  he  could  see  that  the  first 
wore  English  armor.  Murray  believed  himself  lost ;  but 
determined  to  sell  his  life  dearly,  he  made  a  spring,  and 
caught  the  man  by  the  throat;  when  some  one  seizing  his 
arm,  exclaimed,  "  Stop,  my  Lord  Murray  !  it  is  the  faithful 
Grimsby."  Murray  let  go  his  hold,  glad  to  find  that  both  his 
English  friend  and  the  venerable  object  of  his  solicitude 
were  thus  providentially  brought  to  meet  him ;  but  fearing 
that  the  violence  of  his  action  and  Halbert's  exclamation 
might  have  alarmed  the  sleeping  soldiers  (who,  drunk  as  they 
were,  were  too  numerous  to  be  resisted),  he  laid  his  finger  on 
the  lip  of  Grimsby,  and  motioned  to  the  astonished  pair  to 
follow  him. 

As  they  advanced,  they  perceived  one  of  the  soldiers  move 
as  if  disturbed.  Murray  held  his  sword  over  the  sleeping 
wretch,  ready  to  plunge  it  into  his  heart  should  he  attempt  to 
rise ;  but  he  became  still  again ;  and  the  fugitives  having  ap- 
proached the  flag,  Murray  drew  it  up,  and  eager  to  haven  his 
double  charge  he  thrust  them  together  down  the  stairs.  At 
that  moment  a  shriek  from  Helen  (who  had  discovered,  by 
the  gleam  of  light  which  burst  into  the  vault,  a  man  descend- 
ing in  English  armor)  echoed  through  the  cellars.  Two  of 
the  soldiers  jumped  upon  their  feet  and  rushed  upon  Murray. 
He  had  let  the  flag  drop  behind  him ;  but  still  remaining  by 
it,  in  case  of  an  opportunity  to  escape,  he  received  the  strokes 
of  their '  weapons  upon  his  target,  and  returned  them  with 
equal  rapidity.  One  assailant  lay  gasping  at  his  feet.  But 
the  clashing  of  arms  and  the  cries  of  the  survivor  had  already 
awakened  the  whole  crew.  With  horrid  menaces  they  threw 
themselves  towards  the  young  Scot,  and  would  certainly  have 
cut  him  to  pieces  had  he  not  snatched  the  only  remaining 
torch  out  of  the  hand  of  a  staggering  soldier,  and  extinguished 


70  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

it  under  his  foot.  Bewildered  where  to  find  their  prey,  with 
threats  and  imprecations  they  groped  in  darkness,  slashing 
the  air  with  their  swords,  and  not  unf  requently  wounding  each 
other  in  the  vain  search. 

Murray  was  now  far  from  their  pursuit.  He  had  no  sooner 
put  out  the  light  than  he  pulled  up  the  flag,  and  leaping  down, 
drew  it  after  him,  and  found  himself  in  safety.  Desperate  as 
was  the  contest,  it  had  been  short,  for  he  yet  heard  the  foot- 
steps of  the  panic-struck  Helen  flying  along  the  passage.  The 
Englishman  and  Halbert,  on  the  first  falling  of  the  flag,  not 
knowing  its  spring,  had  unsuccessfully  tried  to  re-raise  it,  that 
they  might  assist  Murray  in  the  tumult  above.  On  his  appear- 
ing again  so  unexpectedly,  they  declared  their  joy ;  but  the 
young  lord,  impatient  to  calm  the  apprehensions  of  his  cousin, 
returned  no  other  answer  than  "  Follow  me  ! "  while  he  darted 
forward.  Terror  had  given  her  wings,  and  even  prevented 
her  hearing  the  low  sounds  of  Murray's  voice,  which  he  durst 
not  raise  to  a  higher  pitch,  for  fear  of  being  overheard  by 
the  enemy.  Thus,  while  she  lost  all  presence  of  mind,  he 
did  not  come  up  with  her  till  she  fell  breathless  against  the 
stairs  at  the  extremity  of  the  vault. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ST.  FILLAN'S. 

As  soon  as  Murray  found  her  within  his  arms,  he  clasped 
her  insensible  form  to  his  breast,  and  carrying  her  up  the 
steps,  drew  the  bolt  of  the  door.  It  opened  to  his  pressure, 
and  discovered  a  large  monastic  cell,  into  which  the  daylight 
shone  through  one  long  narrow  window.  A  straw  pallet,  an 
altar,  and  a  marble  basin  were  the  furniture.  The  cell  was 
solitary,  the  owner  being  then  at  mass  in  the  chapel  of  the 
monastery.  Murray  laid  down  his  death-like  burden  on  the 
monk's  bed.  He  then  ventured  (believing,  as  it  was  to  restore 
so  pure  a  being  to  life,  it  could  not  be  sacrilege)  to  throw  some 
of  the  holy  water  upon  his  cousin's  face,  and  by  means  of  a 
little  chalice  which  stood  upon  the  altar  he  poured  some  into 
her  mouth.  At  last  opening  her  eyes,  she  recognized  the  figure 
of  her  young  kinsman  leaning  over  her.  The  almost  paralyzed 
Halbert  stood  at  her  feet.  "  Blessed  Virgin !  I  am  yet  safe, 


ST.    FILLAN'S.  71 

and  with  my  dear  Andrew  !  Oh,  I  feared  you  were  slain ! " 
cried  she,  bursting  into  tears. 

"  Thank  God,  we  are  both  safe/'  answered  he ;  "  comfort 
yourself,  my  beloved  cousin  !  you  are  now  on  holy  ground ; 
this  is  the  cell  of  the  prior  of  St.  Fillan's.  None  but  the  hand 
of  an  infidel  dare  wrest  you  from  this  sanctuary." 

"But  my  father,. and  Lady  Mar?"  And  again  her  tears 
flowed. 

"The  countess,  my  gracious  lady,"  answered  Halbert, 
"since  you  could  not  be  found  in  the  castle;  is  allowed  to 
accompany  your  father  to  Dumbarton  castle,  there  to  be 
treated  with  every  respect,  until  De  Valence  receives  further 
orders  from  King  Edward." 

"  But  for  Wallace  !  "  cried  she  ;  "  ah,  where  'are  now  the 
succors  that  were  to  be  sent  to  him  ?  And  without  succors 
how  can  he,  or  you,  dearest  Andrew,  rescue  my  father  from 
this  tyranny  ?  " 

"  Do  not  despair,"  replied  Murray ;  "  look  but  at  the  banner 
you  held  fast,  even  while  insensible ;  your  own  hands  have 
engraven  my  answer  —  God  armeth  the  patriot !  Convinced 
of  that,  can  you  still  fear  for  your  father  ?  I  will  join  Wal- 
lace to-morrow.  Your  own  fifty  warriors  await  me  at  the 
bottom  of  Cartlane  craigs ;  and  if  any  treachery  should  be 
meditated  against  my  uncle,  that  moment  we  will  make  the 
towers  of  Dumbarton  shake  to  their  foundation." 

Helen's  reply  was  a  deep  sigh;  she  thought  it  might  be 
Heaven's  will  that  her  father,  like  the  good  Lord  Douglas, 
should  fall  a  victim  to  royal  revenge  ;  and  so  sad  were  her 
forebodings,  that  she  hardly  dared  to  hope  what  the  sanguine 
disposition  of  her  cousin  promised.  Grimsby  now  came  for- 
ward, and  unloosing  an  iron  box  from  under  his  arm,  put  it 
into  the  hands  of  Lord  Murray. 

"  This  fatal  treasure,"  said  he,  "  was  committed  to  my  care 
by  the  earl  your  uncle,  to  deliver  to  the  prior  of  St.  Milan's." 

"  What  does  it  contain  ?  "  demanded  Murray  :  "  I  never  saw 
it  before." 

"  I  know  not  its  contents,"  returned  the  soldier ;  "  it  belongs 
to  Sir  William  Wallace." 

"Indeed!"  ejaculated  Helen.  "If  it  be  treasure,  why 
was  it  not  rather  sent  to  him?" 

But  how,  honest  soldier,"  asked  Murray,  "did  you  escape 
with  it,  and  Halbert  too  ?  I  am  at  a  loss  to  conjecture,  but 
by  miracle."  He  replied  that  as  soon  as  the  English  and 
their  Scottish  partisans  under  Lord  Soulis  had  surprised  the 


72  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

castle,  he  saw  that  his  only  chance  of  safety  was  to 
off  the  bonne^  and  plaid,  and  mix  amongst  the  numerous 
soldiers  who  had  taken  possession  of  the  gates.  His  armor 
and  his  language  showed  he  was  their  countryman,  and 
they  easily  believed  that  he  had  joined  the  plunderers  as  a 
volunteer  from  the  army,  which  at  a  greater  distance  be- 
leaguered the  castle.  The  story  of  his  desertion  from  the 
Lanark  garrison  had  not  yet  reached  those  of  Glasgow 
and  Dumbarton,  and  one  or  two  men  who  had  known 
him  in  former  expeditions  readily  reported  that  he  had 
been  drafted  into  the  present  one.  Their  recognition  war- 
ranted his  truth ;  and  he  had  no  difficulty,  after  the  carnage 
in  the  state  apartment,  to  make  his  way  to  the  bed-chamber 
where  Lord  Aymer  de  Valence  had  ordered  Lord  Mar  to  be 
carried.  He  found  the  earl  alone  and  lost  in  grief.  He 
knew  not  but  that  his  nephew,  and  even  his  daughter  and 
wife,  had  fallen  beneath  the  impetuous  swords  of  the  enemy. 
Astonished  at  seeing  the  soldier  walking  at  large,  he  expressed 
his  surprise  with  some  suspicions.  But  Grimsby  told  him  the 
stratagem  he  had  used,  and  assured  him  Lord  Andrew  had 
not  been  seen  since  the  onset.  This  information  inspired  the 
earl  with  a  hope  that  his  nephew  might  have  escaped ;  and 
when  the  soldier  also  said  that  he  had  seen  the  countess  led 
by  Lord  Soulis  across  the  hall  towards  the  Lady  Helen's 
apartments,  while  he  overheard  him  promising  them  every 
respect,  the  earl  seemed  comforted.  "  But  how,"  inquired  he 
of  Grimsby,  "  has  this  hard  fate  befallen  us  ?  Have  you  learnt 
how  De  Valence  knew  that  I  meant  to  take  up  arms  for  my 
country  ?  " 

When  the  soldier  was  relating  this  part  of  the  conference^ 
Murray  interrupted  him  with  the  same  demand. 

"  On  that  head  I  cannot  fully  satisfy  you,"  replied  he ;  "I 
could  only  gather  from  the  soldiers  that  a  sealed  packet  had 
been  delivered  to  Lord  Aymer  de  Valence  late  last  night  at 
Dumbarton  castle.  Soulis  was  then  there,  and  he  immediately 
set  off  to  Glasgow  for  the  followers  he  had  left  in  that  town. 
Early  this  morning  he  joined  De  Valence  and  his  legions  on 
Bothwell  moor.  The  consequences  there,  you  know.  But 
they  do  not  end  at  Bothwell.  The  gallant  Wallace  — " 

At  that  name,  so  mentioned,  the  heart  of  Helen  grew  cold. 

"  What  of  him  ?  "  exclaimed  Murray. 

"  No  personal  harm  has  yet  happened  to  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace," replied  Grimsby  ;  "but  at  the  same  moment  in  which  De 
Valence  gave  orders  for  his  troops  to  march  to  Bothwell,  he 


ST.    FILLAN'S.  73 

sent  others  to  intercept  that  persecuted  knight's  escape  from 
the  Cartlane  craigs." 

"  That  accursed  sealed  packet,"  cried  Murray,  "  has  been  the 
traitor  !  Some  villain  in  Bothwell  castle  must  have  written  it. 
Whence  else  could  have  come  the  double  information  ?  And 
if  so/'  added  he,  with  tremendous  emphasis,  "  may  the  blast  of 
slavery  ever  pursue  him  and  his  posterity !  " 

Helen  shuddered  as  the  amen  to  this  frightful  malediction 
was  echoed  by  the  voices  of  Halbert  and  the  soldier.  The  lat 
ter  continued : 

"When  I  informed  Lord  Mar  of  these  measures  against 
Wallace,  he  expressed  a  hope  that  your  first  detachment  to  his 
assistance  might,  with  yourself  perhaps  at  its  head,  elude  their 
vigilance  and  join  his  friend.  This  discourse  reminded  him 
of  the  iron  box.  '  It  is  in  that  closet/  said  his  lordship,  point- 
ing to  an  opposite  door ;  '  you  will  find  it  beneath  the  little 
altar  before  which  I  pay  my  daily  duties  to  the  Allwise  Dis- 
penser of  the  fates  of  men,  else  where  would  be  my  confidence 
now !  take  it  thence,  and  buckle  it  to  your  side.' 

"  I  obeyed ;  and  he  then  proceeded  :  '  There  are  two  passages 
in  this  house  which  lead  to  sanctuary.  The  one  nearest  to 
us  is  the  safest  for  you.  A  staircase  from  the  closet  you  have 
just  left  will  lead  you  directly  into  the  chapel.  When  there, 
hasten  to  the  image  of  the  Virgin,  and  slip  aside  the  marble 
tablet  on  the  back  of  the  pedestal ;  it  will  admit  you  to  a  flight 
of  steps ;  descend  them,  and  at  the  bottom  you  will  find  a 
door  that  will  convey  you  into  a  range  of  cellars.  Lift  up  the 
largest  flag-stone  in  the  second,  and  you  will  be  conducted 
through  a  dark  vault  to  an  iron  door ;  draw  the  bolt,  and  re- 
main in  the  cell  it  will  open  to  you,  till  the  owner  enters.  He 
is  the  prior  of  St.  Fillan's,  and  a  Murray.  Give  him  this 
golden  cross,  which  he  well  knows,  as  a  mark  you  come  froir 
me,  and  say  it  is  my  request  that  he  assist  you  to  gain  the 
seashore.  As  for  the  iron  box,  tell  him  to  preserve  it  as  he 
would  his  life,  and  never  to  give  it  up  but  to  myself,  my  chil- 
dren, or  to  Sir  William  Wallace,  its  rightful  master.'  " 

"  Alas,"  cried  Halbert,  "that  he  had  never  been  its  owner  ! 
that  he  had  never  brought  it  to  Ellerslie,  to  draw  down 
misery  on  his  head  !  Ill-omened  trust !  whatever  it  contains, 
its  presence  carries  blood  and  sorrow  in  its  train.  Wherever 
it  has  been  deposited,  war  and  murder  have  followed.  I  trust 
m»y  dear  master  will  never  see  it  more." 

"  He  may  indeed  never  see  it  more,"  murmured  Helen,  in 
a  low  voice.  "Where  are  now  my  proud  anticipations  of 


74  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

freedom  to  Scotland  ?  Alas,  Andrew,"  said  she,  taking  his 
hand  and  weeping  over  it,  "  I  have  been  too  presumptuous ; 
my  father  is  a  prisoner,  and  Sir  William  Wallace  is  lost !  " 

"  Cease,  my  dear  Helen,"  cried  he ;  "  cease  to  distress  your- 
self. These  are  merely  the  vicissitudes  of  the  great  contention 
we  are  engaged  in.  We  must  expect  occasional  disappoint- 
ments, or  look  for  miracles  every  day.  Such  disasters  are  sent 
as  lessons,  to  teach  us  precaution,  promptitude,  and  patience 
—  these  are  the  soldier's  graces,  my  sweet  cousin,  and  depend 
on  it,  I  will  pay  them  due  obedience." 

"  But  why,"  asked  Helen,  taking  comfort  from  the  unsub- 
dued spirits  of  her  cousin,  — "  why,  my  good  soldier,  did  not 
my  dear  father  take  advantage  of  this  sanctuary  ?  " 

"  I  urged  the  earl  to  accompany  me,"  returned  Grimsby ; 
"but  he  said  such  a  proceeding  would  leave  his  wife  and 
babes  in  unprotected  captivity.  '  No/  added  he ;  f  I  will  await 
my  fate ;  for  the  God  of  those  who  trust  in  him,  knows  that  I 
do  not  fear/ 

"  Having  received  such  peremptory  orders  from  the  earl, 
I  took  my  leave;  and  entering  the  chapel  by  the  way  he 
directed,  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find  the  worthy  Hal- 
bert,  whom,  never  having  seen  since  the  funeral  obse- 
quies, I  supposed  had  fallen  during  the  carnage  in  the 
state-chamber.  He  was  still  kneeling  by  the  tomb  of  his 
buried  mistress.  I  did  not  take  long  to  warn  him  of  his  dan- 
ger,  and  desired  him  to  follow  me.  We  descended  together 
beneath  the  holy  statue,  and  were  just  emerging  into  the 
cellars  when  you,  sir,  met  us  at  the  entrance. 

"It  was  while  we  were  yet  in  the  chapel  that  I  heard  De 
Valence  and  Soulis  at  high  words  in  the  court-yard.  The 
former,  in  a  loud  voice,  gave  orders  that  as  Lady  Helen  Mar 
could  nowhere  be  found,  the  earl  and  countess,  with  their  two 
infant  children,  should  not  be  separated,  but  be  conveyed  as 
his  prisoners  to  Dumbarton  castle." 

"  That  is  a  comfort,"  cried  Helen  ;  "my  father  will  then  be 
consoled  by  the  presence  of  his  wife." 

"  But  very  different  would  have  been  the  case,  madam,  had 
you  appeared,"  rejoined  the  soldier:  "one  of  Lord  de 
Valence's  men  told  me  that  Lord  Soulis  intended  to  have 
taken  you  and  the  countess  to  Dun-glass  castle,  near  Glas- 
gow, while  the  sick  earl  was  to  have  been  carried  alone  to 
Dumbarton,  and  detained  in  solitary  confinement.  Lord 
Soulis  was  in  so  dreadful  a  rage  when  you  could  not  be  found, 
that  he  accused  the  English  commander  of  having  leagued 


ST.    FILLAN'S.  75 

with  Lady  Mar  to  deceive  him.  In  the  midst  of  this  con- 
tention we  descended  into  the  vaults." 

Helen  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  how  near  she  was  to 
falling  into  the  hands  of  so  fierce  a  spirit.  In  his  character 
he  united  every  quality  which  could  render  power  formidable, 
combining  prodigious  bodily  strength  with  cruelty,  dissimula- 
tion, and  treachery.  He  was  feared  by  the  common  people  as 
a  sorcerer,  and  avoided  by  the  virtuous  of  his  own  rank  as 
an  enemy  to  all  public  law  and  the  violator  of  every  private 
tie.  Helen  Mar  had  twice  refused  his  hand  :  first,  during  the 
contest  for  the  kingdom,  when  his  pretended  claim  to  the 
crown  was  disallowed.  She  was  then  a  mere  child,  hardly 
more  than  fourteen;  but  she  rejected  him  with  abhorrence. 
Though  stung  to  the  quick  at  being  denied  the  objects  both 
of  his  love  and  his  ambition  at  the  same  moment,  he  did  not 
hesitate,  at  another  period,  to  renew  his  offer  to  her.  At  the 
fall  of  Dunbar,  when  he  again  founded  his  uprise  on  the  ruins 
of  his  country,  as  soon  as  he  had  repeated  "his  oaths  of  fidelity 
to  Edward,  he  hastened  to  Thirlestane,  to  throw  himself  a 
second  time  at  the  feet  of  Lady  Helen.  Her  ripened  judg- 
ment confirmed  her  youthful  dislike  of  his  ruffian  qualities, 
and  again  he  was  rejected. 

"By  the  powers  of  hell,"  exclaimed  he,  when  the  project  of 
surprising  Both  well  was  imparted  to  him,  "  if  I  once  get  that 
proud  minion  into  my  grasp,  she  shall  be  mine  as  I  will,  and 
learn  to  beg  for  even  a  look  from  the  man  who  has  humbled 
her ! " 

Helen  knew  not  half  the  afflictions  with  which  his  resentful 
heart  had  meditated  to  subdue  and  torture  her ;  and  therefore, 
though  she  shrunk  at  the  sound  of  a  name  so  generally  infa- 
mous, yet,  not  aware  of  all  the  evils  she  had  escaped,  she 
replied  with  languor,  though  with  gratitude,  to  the  almost 
rapturous  congratulations  of  her  cousin  on  her  timely  flight. 

At  this  period  the  door  of  the  cell  opened,  and  the  prior 
entered  from  the  cloisters;  he  started  on  seeing  his  room 
filled  with  strangers.  Murray  took  off  his  helmet  and  ap- 
proached him.  On  recognizing  the  son  of  his  patron  the  prior 
inquired  his  commands,  and  expressed  some  surprise  that 
such  a  company,  and  above  all  a  lady,  could  have  passed  the 
convent-gate  without  his  previous  notice. 

Murray  pointed  to  the  recess  behind  the  altar,  and  then 
explained  to  the  good  priest  the  necessity  which  had  com- 
pelled them  to  thus  seek  the  protection  of  St.  Fillan's.  "  Lady 
Helen,"  continued  he,  "  must  share  your  care  until  Heaven 


76  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

empowers  the  Earl  of  Mar  to  reclaim  his  daughter,  and  ade- 
quately reward  this  holy  church." 

The  soldier  then  presented  the  cross,  with  the  iron  box, 
repeating  the  message  that  confided  them  also  to  his  keeping. 

The  prior  listened  to  these  recitals  with  sorrowful  attention. 
He  had  heard  the  noise  of  armed  men  advancing  to  the  castle, 
but  knowing  that  the  earl  was  making  warlike  preparations, 
he  had  no  suspicion  that  these  were  other  than  the  Bothwell 
soldiers.  He  took  the  box,  and  laying  it  on  the  altar,  pressed 
the  cross  to  his  lips.  "  The  Earl  of  Mar  shall  find  that  fidelity 
here  which  his  faith  in  the  Church  merits.  That  mysterious 
chest,  to  which  you  tell  me  so  terrible  a  denunciation  is  an- 
nexed, shall  be  preserved  sacred  as  the  relics  of  St.  Fillan's." 

Halbert  groaned  heavily  at  these  words,  but  he  did  not 
speak.  The  father  looked  at  him  attentively,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded :  "  But  for  you,  virtuous  Southron,  I  will  give  you  a 
pilgrim's  habit.  Travel  in  that  privileged  garb  to  Montrose, 
and  there  a  brother  of  the  Church,  the  prior  of  Aberbrothick, 
will,  by  a  letter  from  me,  convey  you  in  a  vessel  to  Normandy ; 
thence  you  may  safely  find  your  way  to  Guienne." 

The  soldier  bowed  his  head;  and  the  priest,  turning  to  Lady 
Helen,  told  her  that  a  cell  should  be  appointed  for  her,  and 
some  pious  woman  brought  from  the  adjoining  hamlet  to  pay 
her  due  attendance. 

"  As  for  this  venerable  man,"  continued  he,  "  his  silver  hairs 
already  proclaim  him  near  his  heavenly  country.  He  had 
best  put  on  the  cowl  of  the  holy  brotherhood,  and  in  the 
arms  of  religion  repose  securely,  till  he  passes  through  the 
sleep  of  death,  to  wake  in  everlasting  life." 

Tears  started  into  the  eyes  of  Halbert.  "  I  thank  you, 
reverend  father ;  I  have  indeed  drawn  near  the  end  of  my 
pilgrimage  —  too  old  to  serve  my  dear  master  in  fields  of 
blood  and  hardship,  I  will  at  least  devote  my  last  hours  to 
uniting  my  prayers  with  his  and  all  good  souls  for  the  re- 
pose of  his  sainted  lady  —  I  accept  your  invitation  thank- 
fully ;  and,  considering  it  a  call  from  Heaven  to  give  me  rest, 
I  welcome  the  day  that  marks  the  poor  harper  of  Ellerslie 
with  the  sacred  tonsure." 

The  sound  of  approaching  trumpets,  and  soon  after  the 
clattering  of  horses  and  the  clang  of  armor,  made  an  instan- 
taneous silence  in  the  cell.  Helen  looked  fearfully  at  her 
cousin  and  grasped  his  hand ;  Murray  clasped  his  sword  with 
a  firmer  hold.  "  I  will  protect  you  with  my  life."  He  spoke 
in  a  low  tone,  but  the  soldier  heard  him.  "  There  is  no  cause 


THE    CHAPTER-HOUSE.  77 

of  alarm/'  rejoined  he;  "Lord  de  Valence  is  only  marching 
by  on  his  way  to  Dumbarton." 

"  Alas,  my  poor  father ! "  cried  Helen,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

The  venerable  prior, .  pitying  her  affliction,  knelt  down  by 
her.  "  My  daughter,  be  comforted,"  said  he  ;  "  they  dare  not 
commit  any  violence  on  the  earl.  King  Edward  too  well  un- 
derstands his  own  interest  to  allow  even  a  long  imprisonment 
to  so  popular  a  nobleman.'7  This  assurance,  assisted  by  the 
consolations  of  a  firm  trust  in  God,  at  length  raised  her  head 
with  a  meek  smile.  He  continued  to  speak  of  the  impregnable 
hopes  of  the  Christian  who  founds  his  confidence  on  Omnipo- 
tence ;  and  while  his  words  spread  a  serenity  through  her  soul, 
that  seemed  the  ministration  of  a  descended  saint,  she  closed 
her  hands  over  her  breast,  and  silently  invoked  the  protection 
of  the  Almighty  Jehovah  for  her  suffering  parent. 

The  prior,  seeing  her  composed,  recommended  leaving  her  to 
rest.  And  Helen,  comforted  by  holy  meditations,  allowing  her 
cousin  to  depart,  he  led  Murray  and  his  companions  into  the 
convent  library. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    CHAPTER-HOUSE. 

THE  march  of  De  Valence  from  the  castle  having  proved 
that  no  suspicion  of  any  of  its  late  inhabitants  being  still  in  the 
neighborhood  remained  with  its  usurpers,  Grimsby  thought 
he  might  depart  in  safety ;  and  next  morning  he  begged  per- 
mission of  the  prior  to  commence  his  journey.  "  I  am  anxious 
to  quit  a  land,"  said  he,  "  where  my  countrymen  are  commit- 
ting violences  which  make  me  blush  at  the  name  of  English- 
man." 

Murray  put  a  purse  of  gold  into  the  soldier's  hand,  while 
the  prior  covered  his  armor  with  a  pilgrim's  gown.  Grimsby, 
with  a  respectful  bow,  returned  the  gift.  "  I  cannot  take  money 
from  you,  my  lord.  But  bestow  on  me  the  sword  at  your 
side,  and  that  I  will  preserve  forever." 

Murray  took  it  off  and  gave  it  to  the  soldier.  "  Let  us  ex- 
change, my  brave  friend ! "  said  he ;  "  give  me  yours,  and  it 
shall  be  a  memorial  to  me  of  having  found  virtue  in  an  Eng- 
lishman." 


78  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Grimsby  unlocked  his  rude  weapon  in  a  moment,  and  as  he 
put  the  iron  hilt  into  the  young  Scot's  hand  a  tear  stood  in  his 
eye.  "When  you  raise  this  sword  against  my  countrymen, 
think  on  Grimsby,  a  faithful,  though  humble  soldier  of  the 
cross,  and  spare  the  blood  of  all  who  ask  for  mercy/' 

Murray  looked  a  gracious  assent,  for  the  tear  of  mercy 
was  infectious.  Without  speaking,  he  gave  the  good  soldier's 
hand  a  parting  grasp ;  and  with  regret  that  superior  claims 
called  so  brave  a  man  from  his  side,  he  saw  him  leave  the 
monastery.1 

The  mourner  banquets  on  memory,  making  that  which 
seems  the  poison  of  life,  its  aliment.  During  the  hours  of  re- 
gret we  recall  the  images  of  departed  joys ;  and  in  weeping 
over  each  tender  remembrance,  tears  so  softly  shed  embalm 
the  wounds  of  grief.  To  be  denied  the  privilege  of  pouring 
forth  our  love  and  our  lamentations  over  the  grave  of  one  who 
in  life  was  our  happiness  is  to  shut  up  the  soul  of  the  survivor 
in  a  solitary  tomb,  where  the  bereaved  heart  pines  in  secret, 
till  it  breaks  with  the  fulness  of  uncommunicated  sorrow :  but 
listen  to  the  mourner ;  give  his  feelings  way ;  and,  like  the 
river  rolling  from  the  hills  into  the  valley,  they  will  flow  with 
a  gradually  gentler  stream,  till  they  become  lost  in  time's  wide 
ocean. 

So  Murray  judged,  when  the  poor  old  harper,  finding  himself 
alone  with  him,  again  gave  loose  to  his  often-recapitulated 
griefs.  He  wept  like  an  infant ;  and  recounting  the  afflictions 
of  his  master,  while  bewailing  the  disasters  at  Bothwell,  im- 
plored Murray  to  go  without  delay  to  support  the  now  almost 
friendless  Wallace.  Murray  was  consoling  him  with  the  as- 
surance that  he  would  set  off  for  the  mountains  that  very 
evening,  when  the  prior  returned  to  conduct  Halbert  to  a  cell 
appointed  for  his  novitiate.  The  good  priest  had  placed  one 
of  his  most  pious  fathers  there,  to  administer  both  temporal 
and  spiritual  cordials  to  the  aged  sufferer. 

The  sorrowing  domestic  of  Wallace  being  thus  disposed  of> 
the  prior  and  Murray  remained  together,  consulting  on  the 
safest  means  of  passing  to  the  Cartlane  hills.  A  lay-brother 
whom  the  prior  had  sent  in  pursuit  of  Helen's  fifty  warriors, 
to  apprise  them  of  the  English  being  in  the  craigs,  at  this 
juncture  entered  the  library.  He  informed  the  father  that, 

1  Grimsby  is  recorded  as  having  been  originally  in  the  service  of  the  King  of  England. 
His  after  attachment  to  Wallace  is  also  mentioned  as  a  matter  of  fact.  Most  of  the  fol 
lowers  of  the  knight  of  Ellerslie  who  are  particularized  in  these  volumes  are  named 
from  authority.  Stephen  Ireland,  "  the  veteran  of  Largs,"  also  makes  an  eminent  figure 
in  the  epic  song  of  "  Ye  Actis  and  Deidis  of  yo  Vailzeand  Campioun  Shyr  Wilham  Wai 
lace." -(1809.) 


THE    CHAPTER-HOUSE.  79 

secure  in  his  religious  garb,  he  had  penetrated  many  of  the 
Cartlane  defiles,  but  could  neither  see  nor  hear  anything  of  the 
party.  Every  glen  or  height  was  occupied  by  the  English;  and 
from  a  woman,  of  whom  he  begged  a  draught  of  milk,  he  had 
learnt  how  closely  the  mountains  were  invested.  The  English 
commander,  in  his  zeal  to  prevent  provisions  being  conveyed 
to  Wallace  and  his  famishing  garrison,  had  stopped  a  procession 
of  monks  bearing  a  dead  body  to  the  sepulchral  cave  of  Saint 
Columba.  He  would  not  allow  them  to  ascend  the  heights 
until  he  had  examined  whether  the  bier  really  bore  a  corpse^ 
or  was  a  vehicle  to  carry  food  to  the  beleaguered  Scots. 

In  the  midst  of  this  information  the  prior  and  his  friends 
were  startled  by  a  shout,  and  soon  after  a  tumult  of  voices,  in 
which  might  be  distinguished  the  cry  of  "  A  gallows  for  the 
traitor!"' 

"  Our  brave  Englishman  has  fallen  into  their  hands,"  cried 
Murray,  hastening  towards  the  door. 

"What  would  you  do  ?"  interrupted  the  prior,  holding  him. 
"  Your  single  arm  could  not  save  the  soldier.  The  cross  has 
more  power ;  I  will  seek  these  violent  men ;  meanwhile  stay 
here,  as  you  value  the  lives  of  all  in  the  convent." 

Murray  had  now  recollected  himself,  and  acquiesced.  The 
prior  took  the  crucifix  from  the  altar,  and  ordering  the  porter 
to  throw  open  the  great  doors  (near  which  the  incessant  shout- 
ing seemed  to  proceed),  he  appeared  before  a  turbulent  band 
of  soldiers  who  were  dragging  a  man  along,  fast  bound  with 
their  leathern  belts.  Blood,  trickling  from  his  face,  fell  on  the 
hands  of  the  ruthless  wretches,  who,  with  horrid  yells,  were 
threatening  him  with  instant  death. 

The  prior,  raising  the  cross,  rushed  in  amongst  them,  and 
in  the  name  of  the  blessed  Son  who  died  on  that  tree  bade 
them  stand.  The  soldiers  trembled  before  the  holy  majesty 
of  his  figure  and  at  his  awful  adjuration.  The  prior  looked 
on  the  prisoner,  but  he  did  not  see  the  dark  locks  of  the  Eng- 
lishman ;  it  was  the  yellow  hair  of  Scotland  that  mingled 
with  the  blood  on  his  forehead. 

"Whither  do  you  hurry  that  wounded  man?" 

"  To  his  death,"  answered  a  surly  fellow. 

"What  is  his  offence?" 

"He  is  a  traitor." 

"  How  has  he  proved  it  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  Scot,  and  he  belongs  to  the  disloyal  Lord  of  Mar. 
This  bugle,  with  its  crowned  falcon,  proves  it,"  added  the 
Southron,  holding  up  the  very  bugle  which  the  earl  had  senc 


80  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

by  Halbert  to  Wallace,  and  which  was  ornamented  with  the 
crest  of  Mar  wrought  in  gold. 

"That  this  has  been  Lord  Mar's,"  replied  the  prior,  "there 
is  no  doubt;  but  may  not  this  man  have  found  it?  Or  may 
it  not  have  been  given  to  him  by  the  earl  before  that  chief 
incurred  the  displeasure  of  King  Edward?  Which  of  you 
would  think  it  just  to  be  made  to  die  because  your  friend  was 
condemned  to  the  scaif old  ?  Unless  you  substantiate  your 
charge  against  this  man  by  a  better  proof  than  this  bugle  his 
leath  would  be  a  murder,  which  the  Lord  of  life  will  requite, 
.n  the  perdition  of  your  souls."  As  the  father  spoke,  he  again 
elevated  the  cross :  the  men  turned  pale. 

"  I  am  a  minister  of  Christ,"  continued  he,  "  and  must  be 
the  friend  of  justice.  Release,  therefore,  that  wounded  man 
to  me.  Before  the  altar  of  the  Searcher  of  all  hearts  he  shall 
confess  himself ;  and  if  I  find  that  he  is  guilty  unto  death,  I 
promise  you,  by  the  holy  St.  Fillan,  to  release  him  to  your 
commanding  officer;  and  so  let  justice  take  its  course.  But 
if  he  prove  innocent,  I  am  the  soldier  of  Christ,  and  no  mon- 
arch on  earth  shall  wrest  his  children  from  the  proi-ection  of 
the  Church." 

While  he  spake,  the  men  who  held  the  prisoner  let  go  their 
hold ;  and  the  prior,  stretching  out  his  hand  to  him,  gave  him 
to  a  party  of  monks,  to  conduct  into  the  convent.  J?hen  to 
convince  the  soldiers  that  it  was  the  man's  life  he  sought  to 
save,  and  not  the  spoil,  he  returned  the  golden  bugle,  and  bade 
them  depart  in  peace. 

Awed  by  the  father's  address,  and  satisfied  with  the  money 
and  arms  of  which  they  had  rifled  the  stranger,  the  marauders 
retreated ;  determining,  indeed,  to  say  nothing  of  the  ma.tter 
to  the  officer  in  the  castle,  lest  he  should  demand  the  horn ; 
and,  elated  with  the  present  booty,  they  inarched  off  to  pursue 
their  plundering  excursion.  Bursting  into  yeomen's  houses 
and  peasants'  huts,  stripping  all  of  their  substance  who  did  or 
did  not  swear  fealty  to  Edward,  thus  robbing  the  latter  and 
axacting  contributions  from  the  former,  while  vain  prayers 
for  mercy  and  unanswered  cries  for  redress  echoed  dolefully 
through  the  vale  of  Both  well,  they  sped  gayly  on,  as  if  murder 
were  pastime  and  rapine  honor. 

The  prior,  on  returning  into  the  convent,  ordered  the  gateb 
to  be  bolted.  When  he  entered  the  chapter-house,  finding  the 
monks  had  already  bound  up  the  wounds  of  the  stranger,  he 
made  a  sign  for  the  brethren  to  withdraw ;  and  then  approach- 
ing the  young  man,  "  My  son,"  said  he,  in  a  mild  tone,  "  you 


THE    CHAPTER-HOUSE.  81 

heard  my  declaration  to  the  men  from  whom  I  took  you.  An- 
swer me  with  truth,  and  you  shall  find  that  virtue  or  repent- 
ance have  alike  a  refuge  in  the  arms  of  the  Church.  As  I  am 
its  servant,  no  man  needs  fear  to  confide  in  me.  Speak  with 
candor !  How  came  you  by  that  bugle  ?  " 

The  stranger  looked  steadfastly  on  his  questioner.  "  A  min- 
ister of  the  all-righteous  God  cannot  mean  to  deceive.  You 
have  saved  my  life,  and  I  should  be  less  than  man,  could  I 
doubt  the  evidence  of  that  deed.  I  received  that  bugle  from 
a,  brave  Scot  who  dwells  amongst  the  eastern  mountains,  and 
who  gave  it  to  me  to  assure  the  Earl  of  Mar  that  I  came  from 
him," 

The  prior  apprehended  that  it  was  of  Wallace  he  spoke. 
"You  come  to  request  a  military  aid  from  the  Earl  of  Mar," 
rejoined  the  father,  willing  to  sound  him  before  he  committed 
Murray,  by  calling  him  to  the  conference. 

The  stranger  replied :  "  If,  reverend  sir,  you  are  in  the 
confidence  of  the  good  earl,  pronounce  but  the  Christian 
name  of  the  man  who  charged  me  with  the  bugle,  and 
allow  me  then,  for  his  sake,  to  ask  you  what  has  indeed 
happened  to  the  earl:  that  I  w-as  seized  by  foes,  when  I 
expected  to  meet  with  friends  only.  Reply  to  this,  and 
I  shall  speak  freely ;  but  at  present,  though  I  would  confide 
all  of  myself  to  your  sacred  character,  yet  the  confidence  of 
others  is  not  mine  to  bestow." 

The  prior  being  convinced  by  this  caution  that  he  was 
indeed  speaking  with  some  messenger  from  Wallace,  made 
no  hesitation  to  answer,  "Your  master  is  a  knight,  and  a 
braver  never  drew  breath  since  the  time  of  his  royal  name- 
sake, William  the  Lion." 

The  man  rose  hastily  from  his  seat,  and  falling  on  his 
knees  before  the  prior,  put  his  garment  to  his  lips : 
"  Father,  I  now  know  that  I  am  with  a  friend  of  my  per- 
secuted master.  But  if,  indeed,  the  situation  of  Lord  Mar 
precludes  assistance  from  him,  all  hope  is  lost.  The  noble 
Wallace  is  penned  within  the  hills,  without  any  hopes  of 
escape.  Suffer  me,  then,  thou  venerable  saint,  to  rejoin 
him  immediately,  that  I  may  at  least  die  with  my  friend." 

"  Hope  for  a  better  destiny,"  returned  the  prior ;  "  I  am  a 
servant,  and  not  to  be  worshipped:  turn  to  that  altar,  and 
kneel  to  Him  who  can  alone  send  the  succor  you  need." 

The  good  man,  thinking  it  was  now  time  to  call  the  young 
lord  of  Both  well,  by  a  side-door  from  the  chapter-house 
entered  the  library,  where  Murray  was  anxiously  awaiting  his 

VOL.  I.  — 6 


82  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

return.  On  his  entrance  the  impatient  youth  eagerly  ex 
claimed,  "  Have  you  rescued  him  ?  " 

"  Grimsby,  I  hope,  is  far  and  safely  on  his  journey," 
answered  the  good  priest;  "but  the  man  those  murderers 
were  dragging  to  death  is  in  the  chapter-house.  Follow 
me,  and  he  will  give  you  news  of  Wallace." 

Murray  gladly  obeyed. 

At  sight  of  a  Scottish  knight  in  armor,  the  messenger 
of  Wallace  thought  his  prayers  were  answered,  and  that  he 
saw  before  him  the  leader  of  the  host  which  was  to  march 
to  the  preservation  of  his  brave  commander.  Murray  told 
him  who  he  was,  and  learnt  from  him  in  return  that 
Wallace  now  considered  himself  in  a  state  of  siege;  that 
the  women,  children,  and  old  men  with  him  had  nothing 
to  feed  on  but  wild  strawberries  and  bird's  eggs,  which 
they  found  in  the  hollows  of  the  rocks.  "To  relieve  them 
from  such  hard  quarters,  girded  by  a  barrier  of  English 
soldiers,"  continued  the  narrator,  "  is  his  first  wish ;  but 
that  cannot  be  effected  by  our  small  number.  However, 
he  would  make  the  attempt  by  a  stratagem,  could  we  be  at 
all  supported  by  succors  from  the  Earl  of  Mar." 

"  My  uncle's  means,"  replied  Murray,  "  are  for  a  time  cut 
off,  but  mine  shall  be  exerted  to  the  utmost.  Did  you  not 
meet,  somewhere,  a  company  of  Scots  to  the  number  of  fifty  ? 
I  sent  them  off  yesterday  to  seek  your  noble  chief." 

"No,"  rejoined  the  young  man;  "I  fear  they  have  been 
taken  by  the  enemy ;  for  in  my  way  to  Sir  William  Wallace, 
not  knowing  the  English  were  so  close  to  his  sanctuary,  I  was 
nearly  seized  myself.  I  had  not  the  good  fortune  to  be  with 
him  when  he  struck  the  first  blow  for  Scotland  in  the  citadel 
of  Lanark,  but  as  soon  as  I  heard  the  tale  of  his  wrongs,  and 
that  he  had  retired  in  arms  towards  the  Cartlane  craigs,  I 
determined  to  follow  his  fate.  We  had  been  companions  in 
our  boyish  days,  and  friends  after.  He  saved  my  life  once,  in 
swimming;  and  now  that  a  formidable  nation  menaces  his,  I 
seek  to  repay  the  debt.  For  this  purpose,  a  few  nights  ago 
I  left  my  guardian's  house  by  stealth,  and  sought  my  way  to 
my  friend.  I  found  the  banks  of  the  Mouse  occupied  by  the 
English,  but  exploring  the  most-  intricate  passes,  at  last 
gained  the  bottom  of  the  precipice  on  the  top  of  which 
Wallace  is  encamped;  and  as  I  lay  among  the  bushes, 
watching  an  opportunity  to  ascend,  I  perceived  two  Eng- 
lish soldiers  near  me.  They  were  in  discourse,  and  I  over- 
heard them  say  that  besides  Heselrigge  himself  nearly  two 


THE    CHAPTER-HOUSE.  83 

hundred  of  his  garrison  had  fallen  by  the  hand  of  Wallace's 
men  in  the  contention  at  the  castle ;  that  the  tidings  were  sent 
to  Sir  Ivichard  Arnulff,  the  deputy-governor  of  Ayr,  and  he 
had  despatched  a  thousand  men  to  surround  Cartlane  craigs, 
spies  having  given  notice  that  they  were  Sir  William's  strong- 
holds ;  and  the  orders  were,  that  he  must  be  taken  dead  or 
alive,  while  all  his  adherents,  men  and  women,  should  receive 
no  quarter. 

"  Such  was  the  information  I  brought  to  my  gallant  friend, 
when  in  the  dead  of  night  I  mounted  the  rock,  and  calling  to 
the  Scottish  sentinel  in  Gaelic,  gave  him  my  name,  and  was 
allowed  to  enter  that  sacred  spot.  Wallace  welcomed  his 
faithful  Ker,1  and  soon  unfolded  his  distress  and  his  hopes. 
He  told  me  of  the  famine  that  threatened  his  little  garrison ; 
of  the  constant  watching,  day  and  night,  necessary  to  prevent 
a  surprise.  But  in  his  extremity  he  observed  that  one  defile 
was  thinly  guarded  by  the  enemy;  probably  because,  as  it  lay 
at  the  bottom  of  a  perpendicular  angle  of  the  rock,  they 
thought  it  unattainable  by  the  Scots.  To  this  point,  however, 
my  dauntless  friend  turns  his  eyes.  He  would  attempt  it, 
could  he  procure  a  sufficient  number  of  fresh  men  to  cover  the 
retreat  of  his  exhausted  few.  For  this  purpose,  as  I  had  so 
lately  explored  the  most  hidden  paths  of  the  craigs,  I 
volunteered  to  visit  the  Lord  Mar,  and  to  conduct,  in  safety, 
any  succors  he  might  send  to  our  persecuted  leader. 

"  This,"  continued  Ker,  "  was  the  errand  on  which  I  came 
to  the  earl.  Think  then  my  horror,  when  in  my  journey  I 
found  redoubled  legions  hemming  in  the  hills,  and  on  advanc- 
ing towards  Bothwell  castle  was  seized  by  a  party  of  English, 
rifled,  and  declared  an  accomplice  with  that  nobleman,  who, 
they  said,  was  condemned  to  lose  his  head." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,  my  brave  Ker,"  cried  Murray,  a  glow 
of  indignation  flushing  his  cheek ;  "  many  a  bull's  head a 
shall  frown  in  this  land  on  the  Southron  tables  before  iny 
uncle's  neck  gluts  their  axes .  No  true  Scottish  blood,  I  trust, 
will  ever  stain  their  scaffolds ;  for  while  we  have  arms  to 
'wield  a  sword,  he  must  be  a  fool  that  grounds  them  on  any 
other  terms  than  freedom  or  death.  We  have  cast  our  lives 
on  the  die,  and  Wallace's  camp  or  the  narrow  house  must  be 
our  prize." 

"  Noble  youth  !  "  exclaimed  the  prior,  "  may  the  innocence 

i  The  stem  of  this  brave  name,  in  subsequent  times,  became  two  great  branches :  the 
Roxburghe  and  the  Lothian. 

8  A  bull's  head  presented  at  a  feast  was  a  sign  that  some  one  of  the  company  was 
immediately  to  be  put  to  death.  —  (1809.; 


84  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

which  gives  animation  to  your  courage  continue  its  moving 
soul !  They  only  are  invincible  who  are  as  ready  to  die  as  to 
live,  and  no  one  can  be  firm  in  that  principle  whose  ex- 
emplary life  is  not  a  happy  preparation  for  the  awful 
change." 

Murray  bowed  modestly  to  this  pious  encomium,  and  turn- 
ing to  Ker,  informed  him,  that  since  he  must  abandon  all  hope 
of  hearing  any  more  of  the  fifty  brave  men  his  cousin  Helen 
had  sent  to  the  craigs,  he  bethought  him  of  applying  to  his 
uncle,  Sir  John  Murray,  who  dwelt  hard  by,  on  his  estate  at 
Drumshargard.  "It  is  small,"-  said  he,  "and  cannot  afford 
many  men;  but  still  he  may  spare  sufficient  to  effect  the 
escape  of  our  commander,  and  that  for  the  present  Avill  be  a 
host." 

To  accomplish  his  design  without  delay,  for  promptitude  is 
the  earnest  of  success,  and  to  avoid  a  surprise  from  the  Eng- 
lish lieutenant  at  Bothwell  (who,  hearing  of  the  rencontre 
before  the  castle,  might  choose  to  demand  his  men's  pris- 
oner), Murray  determined  to  take  Ker  with  him;  and,  dis- 
guised as  peasants,  as  soon  as  darkness  should  shroud  their 
movements,  proceed  to  Drumshargard. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

DRUMSHARGARD. 

WHILE  these  transactions  occupied  the  morning,  Lady 
Helen  (who  the  night  before  had  been  removed  into  the  quiet 
cell  appointed  for  her)  slept  long  and  sweetly.  Her  exhausted 
frame  found  renovation,  and  she  awoke  with  a  heavenly  calm 
at  her  heart.  A  cheering  vision  had  visited  her  sleeping 
thoughts,  and  a  trance  of  happy  feelings  absorbed  her  senses, 
while  her  hardly  disengaged  spirit  still  hovered  over  its  fad- 
ing images. 

She  had  seen  in  her  dream  a  young  knight  enter  her  cell 
bearing  her  father  in  his  arms.  He  laid  the  earl  down  before 
her ;  but  as  she  stooped  to  embrace  him,  the  knight  took  her 
by  the  hand,  and  leading  her  to  the  window  of  the  apartment 
(which  seemed  extended  to  an  immense  size)  he  smiled,  and 
said,  "Look  out,  and  see  how  I  have  performed  my  vow." 
She  obeyed,  and  saw  crowds  of  rejoicing  people,  who  at  sight 
of  the  young  warrior  raised  such  a  shout  that  Helen  awoke. 


DRUMSHARGARD.  85 

She  started,  she  looked  around  —  she  was  still  in  the  narrow 
cell,  and  alone ;  but  the  rapture  of  beholding  her  father  yet 
fluttered  in  her  breast,  and  the  touch  of  the  warrior's  hand 
seemed  still  warm  upon  hers.  "  Angels  of  rest,"  cried  she, 
"  I  thank  ye  for  this  blessed  vision ! " 

The  prior  of  St.  Fillan's  might  have  read  his  own  just  senti- 
ment in  the  heart  of  Lady  Helen.  While  the  gentlest  of 
human  beings,  she  was  an  evidence  that  an  ardent  and  pious 
mind  contains  the  true  principles  of  heroism.  Hope,  in  such 
a  mind,  treads  down  impossibilities ;  and,  regardless  01  imped- 
iments or  dangers,  rushes  forward  to  seize  the  prize.  In  the 
midst  of  hosts  it  feels  a  conqueror's  power ;  or,  when  its 
strength  fails,  sees,  by  the  eye  of  faith,  legions  of  angels 
watching  to  support  the  natural  weakness.  Lady  Helen  knew 
that  the  cause  was  just  which  had  put  the  sword  into  the 
hand  of  Wallace ;  that  it  was  virtue  which  had  prompted  her 
father  to  second  him;  and  where  justice  is,  there  are  the 
wings  of  the  Most  High  stretched  out  as  a  shield. 

This  dream  seemed  prophetic.  "  Yes,"  cried  she,  "  though 
thousands  of  Edward's  soldiers  surrounded  my  father  and  his 
friend,  I  should  not  despair.  Thy  life,  0  noble  Wallace,  was 
not  given  to  be  extinguished  in  an  hour  !  Thy  morn  has 
hardly  risen,  the  perfect  day  must  come  that  is  to  develop 
thy  greatness,  that  is  to  prove  thee  (and  oh,  gracious  God, 
grant  my  prayer !)  the  glory  of  Scotland  ! " 

Owmg  to  the  fervor  of  her  apostrophe,  she  did  not  observe 
the  door  of  the  cell  open  till  the  prior  stood  before  her. 
After  expressing  his  pleasure  at  the  renovation  in  her  coun- 
tenance, he  informed  her  of  the  departure  of  the  English  sol- 
dier,  and  of  the  alarm  which  he  and  Murray  had  sustained 
for  his  safety,  by  the  adventure  which  had  thrown  a  stranger 
from  the  craigs  into  their  protection.  At  the  mention  of  that 
now  momentous  spot  she  blushed,  the  golden-haired  warrior 
of  her  dream  seemed  ready  to  rise  before  her,  and  with  a 
beating  heart  she  prepared  to  hear  some  true  but  miraculous 
account  of  her  father's  rescue. 

Unconscious  of  what  was  passing  in  her  young  and  eager 
mind,  the  prior  calmly  proceeded  to  relate  all  that  Ker  had 
told  of  the  dangerous  extremity  to  which  Wallace  was  reduced, 
and  then  closed  his  intelligence  by  mentioning  the  attempt 
which  her  cousin  meditated  to  save  him.  The  heightened 
color  gradually  faded  from  the  face  of  Helen,  and  low  sighs 
were  her  only  responses  to  the  observations  the  good  priest 
made  on  the  difficulty  of  the  enterprise.  But  when  his  pity 


86  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

for  the  brave  men  engaged  in  the  cause  betrayed  him  into 
expressing  his  fears  that  the  patriotic  zeal  of  Wallace  would 
only  make  him  and  them  a  sacrifice,  Helen  looked  up ;  there 
was  inspiration  on  her  lips  and  in  her  eyes.  "  Father,"  said 
she,  "  hast  thou  not  taught  me  that  God  shieldeth  the  patriot 
as  well  as  armeth  him  ?  " 

"  True,"  returned  he  with  an  answering  smile  ;  . "  steadily 
believe  this,  and  where  will  be  the  sighs  you  have  just  been 
breathing  ?  " 

"Nature  will  shrink,"  replied  she;  "but  the  Christian's 
hope  checks  her  ere  she  falls.  Pardon  me  then,  holy  father, 
that  I  sometimes  weep ;  but  they  are  often  tears  of  trust  and 
consolation." 

"Daughter  of  heaven,"  replied  the  good  prior,  "you  might 
teach  devotion  to  age,  and  cause  youth  to  be  enamoured  of  the 
graces  of  religion.  Be  ever  thus,  and  you  may  look  with  in- 
difference on  the  wreck  of  worlds." 

Helen,  having  meekly  replied  to  this  burst  from  the  heart 
of  the  holy  man,  begged  to  see  her  cousin  before  he  set  off  on 
his  expedition.  The  prior  withdrew,  and  within  an  hour  after, 
Murray  entered  the  apartment.  Their  conversation  was  long, 
and  their  parting  full  of  an  interest  that  dissolved  them  both 
into  tears.  "  When  I  see  you  again,  my  brave  cousin,  tell  me 
that  my  father  is  free  and  his  preserver  safe.  Your  own  life, 
dear  Andrew,"  added  she,  as  he  pressed  his  cheek  to  hers, 
"  must  always  be  precious  to  me." 

Murray  hastily  withdrew,  and  Helen  was  again  alone. 

The  young  chieftain  and  Ker  covered  their  armor  with 
shepherds'  plaids ; !  and  having  received  a  thousand  blessings 
from  the  prior  and  Halbert,  proceeded  under  shelter  of  the 
night  through  the  obscurest  paths  of  the  wood  which  divided 
Bothwell  from  Drumshargard. 

Sir  John  Murray  was  gone  to  rest  when  his  nephew  arrived, 
but  Lord  Andrew's  voice  being  well  known  by  the  porter,  he 
was  admitted  into  the  house ;  and  leaving  his  companion  in 
the  dining-hall,  went  to  the  apartment  of  his  uncle.  The  old 
knight  was  soon  aroused,  and  welcomed  his  nephew  with  open 
arms,  for  he  had  feared,  from  the  accounts  brought  by  the 
fugitive  tenants  of  Bothwell,  that  he  also  had  been  carried 
away  prisoner. 

Murray  now  unfolded  his  errand:    first,  to  obtain  a  band 

JIn  the  Appendix,  Vol.  II.,  a  short  account  of  the  principal  tartans  of  Scotland  will 
be  given,  and  for  beautiful  specimens  of  each  the  writer  has  to  thank  the  politeness  of 
Messrs.  Romanes  and  Paterson,  of  Edinburgh.  —  (1840.) 


DRUMSHARGARD.  87 

of  Sir  John's  trustiest  people  to  assist  in  rescuing  the  pre- 
server of  the  earl's  life  from  immediate  destruction;  and, 
secondly,  if  a  commission  for  Lord  Mar's  release  did  not  arrive 
from  King  Edward,  to  aid  him  to  free  his  uncle  and  the 
countess  from  Dumbarton  castle. 

Sir  John  listened  with  growing  anxiety  to  his  nephew's 
details.  When  he  heard  of  Lady  Helen's  continuing  in  the 
convent,  he  highly  approved  it.  "  That  is  well,"  said  he ; 
"to  bring  her  to  any  private  protection  would  only  spread 
calamity.  She  might  be  traced,  and  her  protector  put  in 
danger ;  none  but  the  Church,  with  safety  to  itself,  can  grant 
asylum  to  the  daughter  of  a  state  prisoner." 

"Then  I  doubly  rejoice  she  is  there,"  replied  Murray;  "and 
there  she  will  remain  till  your  generous  assistance  empowers 
me  to  rescue  her  father." 

"  Lord  Mar  has  been  very  rash,  nephew,"  returned  Drum- 
shargard.1  "What  occasion  was  there  for  him  to  volunteer 
sending  men  to  support  Sir  William  Wallace  ?  and  how  durst 
he  bring  ruin  on  Bothwell  castle,  by  collecting,  unauthorized 
by  my  brother,  its  vassals  for  so  dangerous  an  experiment  ?  " 

Murray  started  at  these  unexpected  observations.  He  knew 
his  uncle  was  timid,  but  he  had  never  suspected  him  of  mean- 
ness ;  however,  in  consideration  of  the  respect  he  owed  to  him 
as  his  father's  brother,  he  smothered  his  disgust,  and  gave 
him  a  mild  answer.  But  the  old  man  could  not  approve  of 
a  nobleman  of  his  rank  running  himself,  his  fortune,  and  his 
friends  into  peril,  to  pay  any  debt  of  gratitude  ;  and  as  to 
patriotic  sentiments  being  a  stimulus,  he  treated  the  idea  with 
contempt.  "  Trust  me,  Andrew,"  said  he,  "  nobody  profits  by 
these  notions  but  thieves,  and  desperate  fellows  ready  to 
become  thieves." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir." 

"  Not  understand  me  ? "  replied  the  knight,  rather  impa- 
tiently. "Who  suffers  in  these  contests  for  liberty,  as  you 
choose  to  call  them,  but  such  men  as  Lord  Mar  and  your 
father  ?  Betrayed  by  artful  declamation,  they  rush  into  con- 
spiracies against  the  existing  government,  are  detected,  ruined, 
and  perhaps  finally  lose  their  lives.  Who  gains  by  rebellion, 
but  a  few  penniless  wretches  that  embrace  these  vaunted 
principles  from  the  urgency  of  their  necessities  ?  They  ac- 
quire plunder  under  the  mask  of  extraordinary  disinterested- 
ness ;  and  hazarding  nothing  of  themselves  but  their  worthless 

1  It  is  a  Scottish  custom  to  distinguish  chieftains  of  the  same  name  by  the  title  of  their 
estates.  — (1809.) 


88  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

lives,  they  would  make  tools  of  the  first  men  in  the  realm, 
and  throw  the  whole  country  into  flames,  that  they  may  catch 
a  few  brands  from  the  fire." 

Young  Murray  felt  his  anger  rise  with  this  speech.  "  You 
do  not  speak  to  my  point,  sir.  I  do  not  come  here  to  dispute 
the  general  evil  of  revolt,  but  to  ask  your  assistance  to  snatch 
two  of  the  bravest  men  in  Scotland  from  the  fangs  of  the 
tyrant  who  has  made  you  a  slave." 

"Nephew,"  cried  the  knight,  starting  from  his  couch  and 
darting  a  fierce  look  at  him,  "  if  any  man  but  one  of  my  own 
blood  had  uttered  that  word,  this  hour  should  have  been  his 
last ! " 

"Every  man,  sir,"  continued  Murray,  "who  acts  upon  your 
principles  must  know  himself  to  be  a  slave ;  and  to  resent 
being  called  so,  is  to  affront  his  own  conscience.  A  name  is 
nothing ;  the  fact  ought  to  knock  upon  your  heart,  and  there 
arouse  the  indignation  of  a  Scot  and  a  Murray.  See  you  not 
the  villages  of  your  country  burning  around  you  ?  the  castles 
of  your  chieftains  razed  to  the  ground?  Did  not  the  plains  of 
Dunbar  reek  with  the  blood  of  your  kinsmen ;  and  even  now, 
do  you  not  see  them  led  away  in  chains  to  the  strongholds  of 
the  tyrant  ?  Are  not  your  stoutest  vassals  pressed  from  your 
service  and  sent  into  foreign  wars  ?  And  yet  you  exclaim, 
'I  see  no  injury — I  spurn  at  the  name  of  slave!'' 

Murray  rose  from  his  seat  as  he  ended,  and  walking  the 
room  in  agitation,  did  not  perceive  the  confusion  of  his  uncle, 
who,  at  once  overcome  with  conviction  and  with  fear,  again 
ventured  to  speak:  "It  is  too  sure  you  speak  truth,  Andrew; 
but  what  am  I,  or  any  other  private  individual,  that  we  should 
make  ourselves  a  forlorn  hope  for  the  whole  nation  ?  Will 
Baliol,  who  was  the  first  to  bow  to  the  usurper,  —  will  he  thank 
us  for  losing  our  heads  in  resentment  of  his  indignity  ?  Bruce 
himself,  the  rightful  heir  of  the  crown,  leaves  us  to  our  fates, 
and  has  become  a  courtier  in  England.  For  whom,  then, 
should  I  adventure  my  gray  hairs,  and  the  quiet  of  my  home, 
to  seek  an  uncertain  liberty,  and  to  meet  an  almost  certain 
death  ?  " 

"  For  Scotland,  uncle,"  replied  he ;  "  just  laws  are  her  right. 
You  are  her  son ;  and  if  you  do  not  make  one  in  the  grand 
attempt  to  rescue  her  from  the  bloodhounds  which  tear  her 
vitals,  the  guilt  of  parricide  will  be  on  your  soul.  Think  not, 
sir,  to  preserve  your  home,  or  even  your  gray  hairs,  by  hugging 
the  chains  by  which  you  are  bound.  You  are  a  Scot,  and 
that  is  sufficient  to  arm  the  enemy  against  your  property  and 


DRUMSHARGARD.  89 

life.  Eemember  the  fate  of  Lord  Monteith!  At  the  very 
time  he  was  beset  by  the  parasites  of  Edward,  and  persuaded 
by  their  flatteries  to  be  altogether  as  an  Englishman,  in  that 
very  hour,  when  he  had  taken  a  niece  of  Cressingham's  to  his 
arms,  by  her  hands  the  vengeance  of  Edward  reached  him  — 
he  fell ! " 

Murray  saw  that  his  uncle  was  struck,  and  that  he  trem^ 
bled. 

"  But  I  am  too  insignificant,  Andrew." 

"  You  are  the  brother  of  Lord  Bothwell,"  answered  Murray, 
all  the  dignity  of  his  father  rising  in  his  countenance. 
"  His  large  possessions  made  him  a  traitor  in  the  eyes  of  the 
tyrant's  representatives.  Cressingham,  as  treasurer  for  the 
crew,  has  already  sent  his  lieutenant  to  lord  it  in  our  paternal 
castle;  and  do  not  deceive  yourself  in  believing  that  some  one 
of  his  officers  will  not  require  the  fertile  fields  of  Drumshar- 
gard  as  a  reward  for  his  services.  No;  cheat  not  yourself 
with  the  idea  that  the  brother  of  Lord  Bothwell  will  be  too 
insignificant  to  share  in  the  honor  of  bearing  a  part  in  the 
confiscations  of  his  country.  Trust  me,  my  uncle,  the  forbear- 
ance of  tyrants  is  not  that  of  mercy,  but  of  convenience. 
When  they  need  your  wealth  or  your  lands,  your  submission 
is  forgotten,  and  a  prison,  or  the  axe,  ready  to  give  them  quiet 
possession." 

Sir  John  Murray,  though  a  timid  and  narrow-sighted  man, 
now  fully  comprehended  his  nephew's  reasoning ;  and  his  >  ears 
taking  a  different  turn,  he«hastily  declared  his  determination 
to  set  off  immediately  for  the  Highlands.  "In  the  mor\<ing, 
by  daybreak,"  said  he,  "I  will  commence  my  journey,  and  join 
my  brother  at  Loch-awe;  for  I  cannot  believe  myself  safe  a 
moment  while  so  near  the  garrisons  of  the  enemy." 

Murray  approved  this  plan ;  and  after  obtaining  his  h  a-rd- 
wrung  leave  to  take  thirty  men  from  his  vassals,  he  retuined 
to  Ker  to  inform  him  of  the  success  of  his  mission.  It  was 
not  necessary,  neither  would  it  have  been  agreeable  to  his 
pride,  to  relate  the  arguments  which  had  been  required  to 
obtain  this  small  assistance ;  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour  he 
brought  together  the  appointed  number  of  the  bravest  men  on 
the  estate.  When  equipped,  he  led  them  into  the  hall  to  re- 
ceive the  last  command  from  their  feudal  lord. 

On  seeing  them  armed,  with  every  man  his  drawn  dirk  in 
his  hand,  Sir  John  turned  pale.  Murray,  with  the  unfolded 
banner  of  Mar  in  his  grasp,  and  Ker  by  his  side,  stood  at  their 
head. 


90  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  Young  men/'  said  the  old  knight,  striving  to  speak  in  a 
firm  tone,  "  in  this  expedition  you  are  to  consider  yourselves 
the  followers  of  rny  nephew :  he  is  brave  and  honorable,  there- 
fore I  commit  you  to  his  command.  But  as  you  go  on  his 
earnest  petition,  I  am  not  answerable  to  any  man  for  the  enter- 
prises to  which  he  may  lead  you." 

"  Be  they  all  on  my  own  head  ! "  -cried  Murray,  blushing  at 
his  uncle's  pusillanimity,  and  drawing  out  his  sword  with  an 
impatience  that  made  the  old  knight  start.  "  We  now  have 
your  permission  to  depart,  sir  ? " 

Sir  John  gave  a  ready  assent :  he  was  anxious  to  get  so  hot- 
headed  a  youth  out  of  his  house,  and  to  collect  his  gold  and 
servants,  that  he  might  commence  his  own  flight  by  break  of 
day. 

It  was  still  dark  as  midnight  when  Murray  and  his  little 
company  passed  the  heights  above  Drumshargard,  and  took 
their  rapid,  though  silent  march  towards  the  cliffs,  which 
would  conduct  them  to  the  more  dangerous  passes  of  the 
Cartlane  craigs. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

BANKS    OF    THE    CLYDE. 

Two  days  passed  drearily  away!  to  Helen.  She  could  not 
expect  tidings  from  her  cousin  in  so  short  a  time.  No  more 
happy  dreams  cheered  her  lonely  hours,  and  anxiety  to  learn 
what  might  be  the  condition  of  the  earl  and  countess  so 
possessed  her  that  visions  of  affright  now  disturbed  both  her 
waking  and  sleeping  senses.  Fancy  showed  them  in  irons 
and  in  a  dungeon;  and  sometimes  she  started  in  horror, 
thinking  that  perhaps  at  that  moment  the  assassin's  steel 
was  raised  against  the  life  of  her  father. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  when  she  was  chiding 
herself  for  such  rebellious  despondence,  her  female  attend- 
ant entered  to  say  that  a  friar  was  come  to  conduct  her 
where  she  should  see  messengers  from  Lady  Mar.  Helen 
lingered  not  a  moment,  but  giving  her  hand  to  the  good 
father,  was  led  by  him  into  the  library,  where  the  prior 
was  standing  between  two  men  in  military  habits.  One 
wore  English  armor,  with  his  visor  closed;  the  other,  a 
knight,  was  in  tartans.  The  Scot  presented  her  with  a 


BANKS    OF    THE    CLYDE.  91 

signet  set  in  gold.  Helen  looked  on  it,  and  immediately 
recognized  the  same  that  her  step-mother  always  used. 

The  Scottish  knight  was  preparing  to  address  her  when 
the  prior  interrupted  him,  and  taking  Lady  Helen's  hand 
made  her  seat  herself.  "  Compose  yourself  for  a  few  min- 
utes," said  he;  athis  transitory  life  hourly  brings  forward 
events  to  teach  us  to  be  calm,  and  to  resign  our  wishes  and 
our  wills  to  the  Lord  of  all  things." 

Helen  looked  fearfully  in  his  face.  "  Some  evil  tidings  are 
to  be  told  me."  The  blood  left  her  lips  ;  it  seemed  leaving  her 
heart  also.  The  prior,  full  of  compassion,  hesitated  to  speak» 
The  Scot  abruptly  answered  her : 

"Be  not  alarmed,  lady,  your  parents  have  fallen  into  hu- 
mane hands.  I  am  sent,  under  the  command  of  this  noble 
Southron  knight,  to  conduct  you  to  them." 

"  Then  my  father  lives  !  They  are  safe  ! "  cried  she,  in  a 
transport  of  joy,  and  bursting  into  tears. 

"  He  yet  lives,"  returned  the  officer ;  "  but  his  wounds 
opening  afresh  and  the  fatigues  of  his  journey  have  so 
exhausted  him  that  Lord  Aymer  de  Valence  has  granted 
the  prayers  of  the  countess,  and  we  come  to  take  you  to 
receive  his  last  blessing." 

A  cry  of  anguish  burst  from  the  heart  of  Lady  Helen ;  and 
falling  into  the  arms  of  the  prior,  she  found  refuge  from 
woe  in  a  merciful  insensibility.  The  pitying  exertions  of  the 
venerable  father  at  last  recalled  her  to  recollection  and  to  sor- 
row. She  rose  from  the  bench  on  which  he  had  laid  her,  and 
begged  permission  to  retire  for  a  few  minutes  ;  tears  choked 
her  further  utterance ;  and  being  led  out  by  the  friar,  she  once 
more  reentered  her  cell. 

Lady  Helen  passed  the  moments,  she  had  requested  in  those 
duties  which  alone  can  give  comfort  to  the  afflicted,  when  all 
that  is  visible  bids  us  despair;  and  rising  from  her  knees, 
with  that  holy  fortitude  which  none  but  the  devout  can  know 
she  took  her  mantle  and  veil,  and  throwing  them  over  her,  sent 
her  attendant  to  the  prior  to.  say  she  was  ready  to  set  out  on 
her  journey,  and  wished  to  receive  his  parting  benediction. 
The  venerable  father,  followed  by  Halbert,  obeyed  her  sum- 
mons. On  seeing  the  poor  old  harper,  Helen's  heart  lost  some 
of  its  newly  acquired  composure.  She  held  out  her  hand  to 
him ;  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips  :  "  Farewell,  sweetest  lady  ! 
May  the  prayers  of  the  dear  saint  to  whose  remains  your 
pious  care  gave  a  holy  grave,  draw  down  upon  your  own 
head  consolation  and  peace ! "  The  old  man  sobbed  j  and 


92  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  tears  of  Lady  Helen,  as  he  bent  upon  her  hand,  dropped 
upon  his  silver  hair.  "  May  heaven  hear  you,  good  Halbert ! 
And  cease  not,  venerable  man,  to  pray  for  me,  for  I  go  into 
the  hour  of  trial." 

"All  that  dwell  in  this  house,  my  daughter,"  rejoined  the 
prior,  "  shall  put  up  orisons  for  your  comfort  and  for  the  soul 
of  the  departing  earl."  Observing  that  her  grief  augmented 
at  these  words,  he  proceeded  in  a  yet  more  soothing  voice : 
"  Regret  not  that  he  goes  before  you,  for  what  is  death  but  en- 
trance into  life  ?  It  is  the  narrow  gate  which  shuts  us  from 
this  dark  world  to  usher  us  into  another,  of  everlasting  light 
and  happiness.  Weep  not,  then,  dear  child  of  the  Church,  that 
your  earthly  parents  precede  you  to  the  heavenly  Father; 
rather  say  with  the  Virgin  Saint  Bride :  •  How  long,  0  Lord,  am 
I  to  be  banished  thy  presence  ?  How  long  endure  the  prison 
of  my  body,  before  I  am  admitted  to  the  freedom  of  paradise, 
to  the  bliss  of  thy  saints  above  ?  ' ' 

Helen  raised  her  eyes,  yet  shining  in  tears,  and  with  a  divine 
smile  pressing  the  crucifix  to  her  breast :  "  You  do  indeed  arm 
me,  my  father.  This  is  my  strength." 

"And  one  that  will  never  fail  thee,"  exclaimed  he.  She 
dropped  upon  one  knee  before  him.  He  crossed  his  hands 
over  her  head,  he  looked  up  to  heaven,  his  bosom  heaved,  his 
lips  moved ;  then  pausing  a  moment :  "  Go,"  said  he,  "  and  may 
the  angels  which  guard  innocence,  minister  to  your  sorrows, 
and  lead  you  into  peace  ! " 

Helen  bowed,  and  breathing  inwardly  a  devout  response, 
rose  and  followed  the  prior  out  of  the  cell.  At  the  end  of  the 
cloister  she  again  bade  farewell  to  Halbert.  Before  the  great 

fates  stood  the  knights  with  their  attendants.  She  once  more 
issed  the  crucifix  held  by  the  prior,  and  giving  her  hand  to 
the  Scot,  was  placed  by  him  on  a  horse  richly  caparisoned.  He 
sprung  on  another  himself;  while  the  English  officer,  who  was 
already  mounted,  drawing  up  to  her,  she  pulled  down  her  veil ; 
and  all  bowing  to  the  holy  brotherhood  at  the  porch,  rode  off 
it  a  gentle  pace. 

A  long  stretch  of  woods,  which  spread  before  the  monastery 
and  screened  the  back  of  Bothwell  castle  from  being  discerni- 
ble on  that  side  of  the  Clyde,  lay  before  them.  Through  this 
green  labyrinth  they  pursued  their  way  till  they  crossed  the 
river. 

"  Time  wears,"  exclaimed  the  Scot  to  his  companion ;  "  we 
must  push  on."  The  English  knight  nodded,  and-  set  his  spurs 
into  his  steed  The  whole  troop  now  fell  into  a  rapid  trot. 


BANKS    OF    THE    CLYDE.  93 

The  banks  of  the  Aven  opened  into  a  hundred  beautiful  seclu- 
sions, which,  intersecting  the  deep  sides  of  the  river  with  um- 
brageous shades  and  green  hillocks,  seemed  to  shut  it  from  the 
world.  Helen  in  vain  looked  for  the  distant  towers  of  Dum- 
barton castle,  marking  the  horizon :  no  horizon  appeared,  but 
ranges  of  rocks  and  wooded  precipices. 

A  sweet  breeze  played  through  the  valley,  and  revived  her 
harassed  frame.  She  put  aside  her  veil  to  enjoy  its  freshness, 
and  saw  that  the  knights  turned  their  horses'  heads  into  one  of 
the  obscurest  mountain  defiles.  She  started  at  its  depth,  and 
at  the  gloom  which  involved  its  extremity.  "  It  is  our  nearest 
path,"  said  the  Scot.  Helen  made  no  reply,  but  turning  her 
steed  also,  followed  him;  there  being  room  for  only  one  at  a 
time  to  ride  along  the  narrow  margin  of  the  river  that  flowed 
at  its  base.  The  Englishman,  whose  voice  she  had  not  yet 
heard,  and  his  attendants,  followed  likewise  in  file ;  and  with 
difficulty  the  horses  could  make  their  way  through  the  thicket 
which  interlaced  the  pathway ;  so  confined,  indeed,  that  it 
rather  seemed  a  cleft  made  by  an  earthquake  in  the  mountain, 
than  a  road  for  the  use  of  man. 

When  they  had  been  employed  for  an  hour  in  breaking  their 
way  through  this  trackless  glen,  they  came  to  a  wider  space, 
where  other  and  broader  ravines  opened  before  them.  The 
Scot,  taking  a  pass  to  the  right,  raised  his  bugle,  and  blew  so 
sudden  a  blast  that  the  horse  on  which  Lady  Helen  sat  took 
fright,  and  began  to  plunge  and  rear,  to  the  evident  hazard  of 
throwing  her  into  the  stream.  Some  of  the  dismounted  men, 
seeing  her  danger,  seized  the  horse  by  the  bridle;  while  the 
English  knight,  extricating  her  from  the  saddle,  carried  her 
through  some  clustering  bushes,  into  a  cave,  and  laid  her  at  the 
feet  of  an  armed  man. 

Terrified  at  this  extraordinary  action,  she  started  up  with  a 
piercing  shriek,  but  was  at  that  moment  enveloped  in  the.arms 
of  the  stranger,  while  a  loud  shout  of  exultation  resounded 
from  the  Scot  who  stood  at  the  entrance.  It  was  echoed  from 
without.  There  was  horror  in  every  sound.  "  Blessed  Vir- 
gin, protect  me  !  "  cried  she,  striving  to  break  from  the  fierce 
grasp  that  held  her.  "  Where  am  I  ?  "  looking  wildly  at  the 
two  men  who  had  brought  her.  "  Why  am  I  not  taken  to  my 
father  ? " 

She  received  no  answer,  and  both  the  Scot  and  the  English- 
man left  the  place.  The  stranger  still  held  her  locked  in  a 
gripe  that  seemed  of  iron.  In  vain  she  struggled,  in  vain  she 
shrieked,  in  vain  she  called  on  earth  and  heaven  for  assistance  j 


94  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

she  was  held,  and  still  he  kept  silence.  Exhausted  with  ter- 
ror and  fruitless  attempts  for  release,  she  put  her  hands  to- 
gether, and  in  a  calmer  tone  exclaimed,  "  If  you  have  honor 
or  humanity  in  your  heart,  release  me!  I  am  an  unprotected 
woman,  praying  for  your  mercy ;  withhold  it  not,  for  the  sake 
of  heaven  and  your  own  soul !  " 

"Kneel  to  me  then,  thou  syren/'  cried  the  warrior,  with 
fierceness.  As  he  spoke,  he  threw  the  tender  knees  of  Lady 
Helen  upon  the  rocky  floor.  His  voice  echoed  terribly  in  hei 
ears ;  but  obeying  him,  "  Free  me,"  cried  she  "  for  the  sake  oi 
my  dying  father  ! " 

"  Never,  till  I  have  had  my  revenge  ! " 

At  this  dreadful  denunciation  she  shuddered  to  the  soul,  but 
yet  she  spoke :  "  Surely  I  am  mistaken  for  some  one  else !  Oh, 
how  can  I  have  offended  any  man,  to  incur  so  cruel  an  out- 
rage ?  " 

The  warrior  burst  into  a  satanic  laugh,  and  throwing  up  his 
visor,  "  Behold  me,  Helen  ! "  cried  he,  grasping  her  clasped 
hands  with  a  horrible  force.  "  My  hour  is  come  ! " 

At  the  sight  of  the  dreadful  face  of  Soulis  she  comprehended 
all  her  danger,  and  with  supernatural  strength  wresting  her 
hands  from  his  hold,  she  burst  through  the  bushes  out  of  the 
'cave.  Her  betrayers  stood  at  the  entrance,  and  catching  her 
in  their  arms,  brought  her  back  to  their  lord.  But  it  was  an 
insensible  form  they  now  laid  before  him:  overcome  with 
horror  her  senses  had  fled.  Short  was  this  suspension  from 
misery ;  water  was  thrown  on  her  face,  and  she  awoke  to  recol- 
lection, lying  on  the  bosom  of  her  enemy.  Again  she  strug- 
gled, again  her  cries  echoed  from  side  to  side  of  the  cavern. 
"  Peace  !  "  cried  the  monster :  "  you  cannot  escape ;  you  are 
now  mine  forever !  Twice  you  refused  to  be  my  wife ;  you 
dared  to  despise  my  love  and  my  power ;  now  you  shall  feel 
my  hatred  and  my  revenge  !  " 

"  Kill  me  ! "  cried  the  distracted  Helen ;  "  kill  me,  and  I  wil? 
bless  you ! " 

"  That  would  be  a  poor  vengeance,"  cried  he ;  "  you  must  be 
humbled,  proud  minion,  you  must  learn  to  fawn  on  me  for  a 
smile;  to  woo,  as  my  slave,  for  one  of  those  caresses  you 
spurned  to  receive  as  my  wife."  As  he  spoke,  he  strained  her 
to  his  breast,  with  the  contending  expressions  of  passion  and 
revenge  glaring  in  his  eyes.  Helen  shrieked  at  the  pollution 
of  his  lips;  and  as  he  more  fiercely  held  her,  her  hand  struck 
against  the  hilt  of  his  dagger.  In  a  moment  she  drew  it;  and 
armed  with  the  strength  of  outraged  innocence,  unwitting 


BANKS    OF    THE    CLYDE.  95 

whether  it  gave  death  or  not,  only  hoping  it  would  release  her, 
she  struck  it  into  his  side.  All  was  the  action  of  an  instant. 
While,  as  instantaneously  he  caught  her  wrist,  and  exclaiming, 
"  Damnable  traitress ! "  dashed  her  from  him,  stunned  and 
motionless  to  the  ground. 

The  weapon  had  not  penetrated  far.  But  the  sight  of  his 
blood,  drawn  by  the  hand  of  a  woman,  incensed  the  raging 
Soulis.  He  called  aloud  on  Macgregor.  The  two  men,  who 
yet  stood  without  the  cave,  reentered.  They  started  when 
they  saw  a  dagger  in  his  hand,  and  Helen,  lying  apparently 
lifeless,  with  blood  sprinkled  on  her  garments. 

Macgregor,  who  had  personated  the  Scottish  knight,  in  a 
tremulous  voice  asked  why  he  had  killed  the  lady. 

Soulis  frowned.  "  Here  !  "  cried  he,  throwing  open  his  vest ; 
"this  wound  that  beautiful  fiend  -you  so  piteously  look  upon 
aimed  at  my  life !  " 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  other  man,  who  had  heard  her  shrieks, 
"I  expected  different  treatment  for  the  Earl  of  Mar's 
daughter." 

"  Base  Scot ! "  returned  Soulis,  "  when  you  brought  a 
woman  into  these  wilds  to  me,  you  had  no  right  to  expect  I 
should  use  her  otherwise  than  as  I  pleased,  and  you,  as  the 
servile  minister  of  my  pleasures." 

"This  language,  Lord  Soulis,"  rejoined  the  man  much 
agitated ;  "  but  you  mistook  me  — I  meant  not  to  reproach." 

"  'T  is  well  you  did  not ;  "  and  turning  from  him  with  con- 
tempt, he  listened  to  Macgregor,  who,  stooping  towards  the 
inanimate  Helen,  observed  that  her  pulse  beat.  "  Fool ! " 
returned  Soulis,  "  did  you  think  I  would  so  rashly  throw  away 
what  I  have  been  at  such  pains  to  gain  ?  Call  your  wife :  she 
knows  how  to  teach  these  minions  submission  to  my  will." 

The  man  obeyed ;  and  while  his  companion  by  the  com- 
mand of  Soulis  bound  a  fillet  round  the  bleeding  forehead  of 
Helen,  cut  by  the  flints,  the  chief  brought  two  chains,  and 
fastening  them  to  her  wrists  and  ankles,  exclaimed  with 
brutal  triumph,  while  he  locked  them  on :  "  There,  my  haughty 
damsel !  flatter  not  thyself  that  the  arms  of  Soulis  shall  be 
thine  only  fetters." 

Macgregor's  wife  entered,  and  promised  to  obey  all  her 
lord's  injunctions.  When  she  was  left  alone  with  the  breath- 
less body  of  Helen,  water,  and  a  few  cordial  drops,  which  she 
poured  into  the  unhappy  lady's  mouth,  soon  recalled  her 
wretched  senses.  On  opening  her  eyes,  the  sight  of  one  of 
her  own  sex  inspired  her  with  some  hope ;  but  attempting  to 


96  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

stretch,  out  her  hands  in  supplication,  she  was  horror-struck  at 
rinding  them  fastened,  and  at  the  clink  of  the  chains  which 
bound  her.  "Why  am  I  thus?"  demanded  she  of  the 
woman ;  but  suddenly  recollecting  having  attempted  to  pierce 
Soulis  with  his  own  dagger,  and  now  supposing  she  had  slain 
him,  she  added,  "  Is  Lord  Soulis  killed  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  woman ;  "  my  husband  says  he  is  but 
slightly  hurt ;  and  surely  your  fair  face  belies  your  heart,  if 
you  could  intend  the  death  of  so  brave  and  loving  a  lord." 

"  You  then  belong  to  him  ? "  cried  the  wretched  Helen, 
wringing  her  hands.  "What  will  be  my  unhappy  fate! 
Virgin  of  heaven,  take  me  to  thyself  !  " 

"  Heaven  forbid,"  cried  the  woman,  "  that  you  should  pray 
against  being  the  favorite  lady  of  our  noble  chief !  Many  are 
the  scores  around  Hermitage  castle  who  would  come  hither  on 
their  hands  and  knees  to  arrive  at  that  happiness." 

"  Happiness  ! "  cried  Lady  Helen,  in  anguish  of  spirit ;  "  it 
can  visit  me  no  more  till  I  am  restored  to  my  father,  till  I  am 
released  from  the  power  of  Soulis.  Give  me  liberty,"  con- 
tinued she,  wildly  grasping  the  arm  of  the  woman.  "Assist 
me  to  escape,  and  half  the  wealth  of  the  Earl  of  Mar  shall  be 
your  reward." 

"  Alas ! "  returned  the  woman,  "  my  lord  would  burn  me 
on  the  spot,  and  murder  my  husband,  did  he  think  I  even 
listened  to  such  a  project.  No,  lady  ;  you  never  will  see  your 
father  more;  for  none  who  so  enter  my  lord's  Hermitage 
ever  wish  to  come  out  again." 

"  The  Hermitage ,' "  cried  Helen,  in  augumented  horror. 
"  0  Father  of  mercy,  never  let  me  live  to  enter  those  ac- 
cursed walls!" 

"  They  are  frightful  enough,  to  be  sure,"  returned  the 
woman ;  "  but  you,  gentle  lady,  will  be  princess  there,  and  in 
all  things  commanding  the  kingly  heart  of  its  lord,  have  rather 
cause  to  bless  than  to  curse  the  castle  of  Soulis." 

"  Himself  and  all  that  bears  his  name  are  accursed  to  me," 
returned  Helen ;  "  his  love  is  my  abomination,  his  hatred  my 
dread.  Pity  me,  kind  creature ;  and  if  you  have  a  daughter 
whose  honor  is  dear  to  your  prayers,  think  you  see  her  in 
me,  and  have  compassion  on  me.  My  life  is  in  your  hands ; 
for  I  swear  before  the  throne  of  Almighty  Purity,  that  Souli* 
shall  see  me  die,  rather  than  dishonored  !  " 

"  Poor  young  soul ! "  cried  the  woman,  looking  at  her  frantic 
gestures  with  commiseration ;  "  I  would  pity  you  if  I  durst ; 
but  I  repeat,  my  life  and  my  husband's,  and  my  children,  who 


BANKS    OF    THE    CLYDE.  97 

are  now  near  Hermitage,  would  all  be  sacrificed  to  the  rage  of 
Lord  Soulis.  You  must  be  content  to  submit  to  his  will." 
Helen  closed  her  hands  over  her  face  in  mute  despair,  and  the 
woman  went  on  :  "  And  as  for  the  matter  of  your  making  such 
lamentations  about  your  father,  if  he  be  as  little  your  friend  as 
your  mother  is,  you  have  not  much  cause  to  grieve  on  that  score." 

Helen  started.  "  My  mother !  what  of  her !  —  Speak  !  tell 
me  !  It  was  indeed  her  signet  that  betrayed  me  into  these 
horrors.  She  cannot  have  consented  —  Oh,  no  !  some  villains  ! 
—  speak  !  tell  me  what  you  would  say  of  Lady  Mar !  " 

Regardless  of  the  terrible  emotion  which  now  shook  the 
frame  of  her  auditor,  the  woman  coolly  replied  she  had  heard 
from  her  husband,  who  was  the  confidential  servant  of  Lord 
Soulis,  that  it  was  to  Lady  Mar  he  owed  the  knowledge  of 
Helen  being  at  Bothwell.  The  countess  had  written  a  letter 
to  her  cousin,  Lord  Buchan,  who,  being  a  sworn  friend  of 
England,  was  then  with  Lord  de  Valence  at  Dumbarton.  In 
this  epistle  she  intimated  "  her  wish  that  Lord  Buchan  would 
devise  a  plan  to  surprise  Bothwell  castle  the  ensuing  day,  to 
prevent  the  departure  of  its  armed  vassals  then  preparing  to 
march  to  the  support  of  the  outlaw,  Sir  William  Wallace,  who, 
with  his  band  of  robbers,  was  lurking  about  the  caverns  of  the 
Cartlane  craigs." 

When  this  letter  arrived,  Lord  Soulis  was  at  dinner  with 
the  other  lords ;  and  Buchan  laying  it  before  De  Valence, 
they  all  consulted  what  was  best  to  be  done.  Lady  Mai- 
begged  her  cousin  not  to  appear  in  the  affair  himself,  that  she 
might  escape  the  suspicions  of  her  lord;  who,  she  strongly 
declared,  was  not  arming  his  vassals  for  any  disloyal  disposi- 
tion towards  the  King  of  England,  but  solely  at  the  instiga- 
tions of  Wallace,  to  whom  he  romantically  considered  himself 
bound  by  the  ties  of  gratitude.  As  she  gave  this  information, 
she  hoped  that  no  attainder  would  fall  upon  her  husband. 
And  to  keep  the  transaction  as  close  as  possible,  she  proposed 
that  the  Lord  Soulis,  who  she  understood  was  then  at  Dum- 
barton, should  take  the  command  of  two-  or  three  thousand 
troops,  and,  marching  to  Bothwell  next  morning,  seize  the  few 
hundred  armed  Scots  who  were  there,  ready  to  proceed  to  the 
mountains.  She  ended  by  saying  that  her  daughter-in-law 
was  in  the  castle,  which  she  hoped  would  be  an  inducement 
to  Soulis  to  ensure  the  Earl  of  Mar's  safety  for  the  sake  of 
her  hand  as  his  reward. 

The  greatest  part  of  Lady  Mar's  injunctions  could  not  be 
attended  to,  as  Lord  de  Valence,  as  well  as  Soulis,  was 

VOL.  I.  —  7 


08  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

made  privy  to  the  secret.  The  English  nobleman  declared 
that  he  should  not  do  his  duty  to  his  king  if  he  did  not  head 
the  force  that  went  to  quell  so  dangerous  a  conspiracy ;  and 
Soulis,  eager  to  go  at  any  rate,  joyfully  accepted  the  honor  of 
being  his  companion.  Lord  Buchan  was  easily  persuaded  to 
the  seizure  of  the  earl's  person,  as  De  Valence  flattered  him 
that  the  king  would  endow  him  with  the  Mar  estates  which 
must  now  be  confiscated.  Helen  groaned  at  the  latter  part  cf 
this  narration ;  but  the  woman,  without  noticing  it,  proceeded 
to  relate  how,  when  the  party  had  executed  their  design  at 
JBothwell  castle,  she  was  to  have  been  taken  by  Soulis  to  his 
castle  near  Glasgow.  But  on  that  wily  Scot  not  finding  her, 
he  conceived  the  suspicion  that  Lord  de  Valence  had  prevailed 
on  the  countess  to  give  her  up  to  him.  He  observed  that  the 
woman  who  could  be  induced  to  betray  her  daughter  to  one 
man,  would  easily  be  bribed  to  repeat  the  crime  to  another, 
and  under  this  impression  he  accused  the  English  nobleman  of 
treachery.  De  Valence  denied  it  vehemently;  a  quarrel 
ensued ;  and  Soulis  departed  with  a  few  of  his  followers, 
giving  out  that  he  was  retiring  in  high  indignation  to  Dun- 
glass.  But  the  fact  was,  he  lurked  about  in  Bothwell  wood; 
and  from  its  recesses  saw  Cressingham's  lieutenant  march  by 
to  take  possession  of  the  castle  in  the  king's  name.  A 
deserter  from  this  troop  fell  in  with  Lord  Soulis's  company ; 
and  flying  to  him  for  protection,  a  long  private  conversation 
took  place  between  them.  At  this  period,  one  of  the  spies 
who  had  been  left  by  that  chief  in  quest  of  news,  returned  with 
a  female  tenant  of  St.  Fillan's  whom  he  had  seduced  from  her 
home.  She  told  Lord  Soulis  all  he  wanted  to  know,  inform- 
ing him  that  a  beautiful  young  lady,  who  could  be  no  other 
than  Lady  Helen  Mar,  was  concealed  in  that  convent. 

On  this  information  he  conversed  a  long  time  with  the 
stranger  from  Cressingham's  detachment.  And  determining 
on  carrying  off  Helen  immediately  to  Hermitage,  that  the 
distance  to  Teviotdale  might  render  a  rescue  less  probable,  he 
laid  his  plan  accordingly.  "  In  consequence,"  continued  the 
flroman,  "  my  husband  and  the  stranger,  the  one  habited  as  a 
Scottish,  and  the  other  as  an  English  knight  (for  my  lord 
being  ever  on  some  wild  prank,  has  always  a  chest  of  strange 
dresses  with  him),  set  out  for  St.  Fillan's,  taking  with  them 
the  signet  which  your  mother  had  sent  with  her  letter  to  the 
earl  her  cousin.  They  hoped  such  a  pledge  of  their  truth 
would  ensure  them  credit.  You  know  the  tale  they  invented; 
and  its  success  proves  my  lord  to  be  no  bad  contriver." 


THE   PENTLAND    HILLS.  99 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE    PENTLAND    HILLS. 

HELEN  listened  with  astonishment  and  grief  to  this  too  prob- 
able story  of  her  step-mother's  ill-judged  tenderness  or  cruel 
treachery;  and  remembering  the  threats  which  had  escaped 
that  lady  in  their  last  conversation  she  saw  no  reason  to 
doubt  what  so  clearly  explained  the  before  inexplicable  seizure 
of  her  father,  the  betraying  of  Wallace,  and  her  own  present 
calamity. 

"  You  do  not  answer  me,"  rejoined  the  woman ;  "  but  if  you 
think  I  don't  say  true,  Lord  Soulis  himself  will  assure  you  of 
the  fact." 

"  Alas,  no !  "  returned  Helen,  profoundly  sighing ;  "  I  believe 
it  too  well.  I  see  the  depth  of  the  misery  into  which  I  am 
plunged.  And  yet,"  cried  she,  recollecting  the  imposition  the 
men  had  put  upon  her  —  "  yet  I  shall  not  be  wholly  so  if  my 
father  lives,  and  was  not  in  the  extremity  they  told  me  of." 

"  If  that  thought  gives  you  comfort,  retain  it,"  returned 
the  woman ;  "  the  whole  story  of  the  earl's  illness  was  an  inven- 
tion to  bring  you  at  so  short  notice  from  the  protection  of  the 
prior." 

"  I  thank  thee,  gracious  Providence,  for  this  comfort ! "  ex- 
claimed Helen  ;  "  it  inspires  me  with  redoubled  trust  in  thee." 

Margery  shook  her  head.  "  Ah,  poor  victim  (thought  she), 
how  vain  is  thy  devotion!"  But  she  had  not  time  to  say  so, 
for  her  husband  and  the  deserter  from  Cressingham  reentered 
the  cave.  Helen,  afraid  that  it  was  Soulis,  started  up.  The 
stranger  proceeded  to  lift  her  in  his  arms.  She  struggled;  and 
in  the  violence  of  her  action  struck  his  beaver ;  it  opened,  and 
discovered  a  pale  and  stern  countenance  with  a  large  scar 
across  his  jaw.  This  mark  of  contest  and  the  gloomy  scowl  of 
his  eyes  made  Helen  rush  towards  the  woman  for  protection. 
The  man  hastily  closed  his  helmet,  and  speaking  through  the 
clasped  steel,  for  the  first  time  she  heard  his  voice,  which 
sounded  hollow  and  decisive ;  he  bade  her  prepare  to  acconi- 
pan}r  Lord  Soulis  in  a  journey  to  the  south. 

Helen  looked  at  her  shackled  arms,  and  despairing  of  effect- 
ing her  escape  by  any  effort  of  her  own,  she  thought  that 
gaining  time  might  be  some  advantage ;  and  allowing  the  man 
to  take  her  hand,  while  Macgregor  supported  her  on  the  other 
side,  they  led  her  out  of  the  cave.  She  observed  the  latter 


100  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

smile  significantly  at  Ms  wife.  "  Oh  ! "  cried  she,  "  to  what 
am  I  betrayed  ?  Unhand  me  —  leave  me  !  "  Almost  fainting 
with  dread  she  leaned  against  the  arm  of  the  stranger. 

Thunder  now  pealed  over  her  head,  and  lightning  shot 
across  the  mountains.  She  looked  up.  "  Merciful  heaven/7 
cried  she,  in  a  voice  of  deep  horror,  "  send  down  thy  bolt  on 
me ! "  At  that  moment  Soulis,  mounted  on  his  steed,  ap- 
proached and  ordered  her  to  be  put  into  the  litter.  Incapable 
of  contending  with  the  numbers  which  surrounded  her,  she  al- 
lowed them  to  execute  their  master's  commands.  Macgregor's 
wife  was  set  on  a  pillion  behind  him,  and  Soulis  giving  the 
word,  they  all  marched  on  at  a  rapid  pace.  In  a  few  hours, 
having  cleared  the  shady  valleys  of  the  Clyde,  they  entered 
the  long  and  barren  tracts  of  the  Leadhill  moors. 

A  dismal  hue  overspread  the  country ;  the  thunder  yet 
roared  in  distant  peals,  and  the  lightning  came  down  in  such 
vast  sheets  that  the  carriers  were  often  obliged  to  set  down 
their  burden  and  cover  their  eyes  to  regain  their  sight.  A 
shrill  wind  pierced  the  slight  covering  of  the  litter,  and  blow- 
ing it  aside,  discovered  at  intervals  the  rough  outlines  of  the 
distant  hills  visible  through  the  mist,  or  the  gleaming  of 
some  •wandering  water  as  it  glided  away  over  the  cheerless 
waste. 

"  All  is  desolation,  like  myself  ! "  thought  Helen ;  but  neither 
the  cold  wind,  nor  the  rain,  now  drifting  into  her  vehicle, 
occasioned  her  any  sensation.  -It  is  only  when  the  mind  is  at 
ease  that  the  body  is  delicate :  all  within  her  was  too  expec- 
tant of  mental  horrors  to  notice  the  casual  inconveniences  of 
season  or  situation. 

The  cavalcade  with  difficulty  mounted  the  steps  of  a  moun- 
tainous hill,  where  the  storm  raged  so  turbulently  that  the 
men  who  carried  the  litter  stopped  and  told  their  lord  it 
would  be  impossible  to  proceed  in  the  approaching  darkness ; 
they  conjured  him  to  look  at  the  perpendicular  rocks,  rendered 
indistinct  by  the  gathering  mist ;  to  observe  the  overwhelm- 
ing gusts  of  the  tempest;  and  then  judge  whether  they  dare 
venture  with  the  litter  on  so  dangerous  a  pathway,  made  slip- 
pery by  descending  rain.  " 

To  halt  in  such  a  spot  seemed  to  Soulis  as  unsafe  as  to 
proceed.  "  We  shall  not  be  better  off,"  answered  he,  "  should 
we  attempt  to  return :  precipices  lie  on  either  side ;  and  to 
stand  still  would  be  equally  perilous :  the  torrents  from  the 
heights  increase  so  rapidly,  t^ere  is  every  chance  of  our  being 
swept  away  should  we  remain  exposed  to  their  stream." 


THE   PEN TL AND    HILLS.  101 

Helen  looked  at  these  sublime  cascades  with  a  calm  wel- 
come, as  they  poured  from  the  hills  and  flung  their  spray 
upon  the  roof  of  her  vehicle.  She  hailed  her  release  in  the 
death  they  menaced;  and  far  from  being  intimidated  at 
the  prospect,  cast  a  resigned  and  even  wistful  glance  into 
the  swelling  lake  beneath,  under  whose  waves  she  expected 
soon  to  sleep. 

On  the  remonstrance  of  their  master  the  men  resumed  their 
pace,  and  after  hard  contention  with  the  storm  they  gained 
the  summit  of  the  west  side  of  the  mountain,  and  were  de- 
scending its  eastern  brow  when  the  shades  of  night  closed  in 
upon  them.  Looking  down  into  the  black  chaos  on  the  brink 
of  which  they  must  pass  along,  they  once  more  protested  they 
could  not  advance  a  foot  until  the  dawn  should  give  them 
some  security. 

At  this  declaration,  which  Soulis  saw  could  not  now  be  dis- 
puted, he  ordered  the  troop  to  halt  under  the  shelter  of  a  pro- 
jecting rock.  Its  huge  arch  overhung  the  ledge  that  formed 
the  road,  while  the  deep  gulf  at  his  feet,  by  the  roaring  of  its 
waters,  proclaimed  itself  the  receptacle  of  those  cataracts 
which  rush  tremendous  from  the  ever-streaming  Pentland 
hills. 

Soulis  dismounted.  The  men  set  down  the  litter,  and  re- 
moved to  a  distance  as  he  approached.  He  opened  one  of  the 
curtains,  and  throwing  himself  beside  the  exhausted  but 
watchful  Helen,  clasped  his  arms  roughly  about  her  and 
exclaimed,  "  Sweet  minion,  I  must  pillow  on  your  bosom  till 
the  morn  awakes.'7  His  brutal  lips  were  again  riveted  to 
her  cheek.  Ten  thousand  strengths  seemed  then  to  heave 
him  from  her  heart ;  and  struggling  with  a  power  that 
amazed  even  herself,  she  threw  him  from  her,  and  holding 
him  off  with  her  shackled  arms,  her  shrieks  again  pierced  the 
heavens. 

"Scream  thy  soul  away,  poor  fool !"  exclaimed  Soulis,  seiz- 
ing her  fiercely  in  his  arms  ;  "  for  thou  art  now  so  surely  mine 
that  Heaven  itself  cannot  deprive  me." 

At  that  moment  her  couch  was  shaken  by  a  sudden  shock, 
and  in  the  next  she  was  covered  with  the  blood  of  Soulis.  A 
stroke  from  an  unseen  arm  had  reached  him,  and  starting  on 
his  feet,  a  fearful  battle  of  swords  tot>k  place  over  the  pros- 
trate Helen. 

One  of  the  men,  oilt  of  the  numbers  who  hastened  to  the 
assistance  of  their  master,  fell  dead  on  her  body ;  while  the 
chief  himself,  sorely  wounded,  and  breathing  revenge  and  bias- 


102  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

phemy,  was  forced  off  by  the  survivors.  "  Where  do  you  carry 
me,  villains  ?  "  cried  he.  "  Separate  me  not  from  the  vengeance 
I  will  yet  hurl  on  that  demon  who  has  robbed  me  of  my  victim, 
or  ye  shall  die  a  death  more  horrible  than  hell  can  inflict ! " 
He  raved,  but  more  unheeded  than  the  tempest.  Terrified 
that  the  spirits  of  darkness  were  indeed  their  pursuers,  in 
spite  of  his  reiterated  threats  the  men  carried  him  to  a  distant 
hollow  in  the  rock,  and  laid  him  down,  now  insensible  from 
loss  of  blood.  One  or  two  of  the  most  desperate  returned  to 
see  what  was  become  of  Lady  Helen,  well  aware  that  if  they 
could  regain  her,  their  master  would  be  satisfied ;  but,  on  the 
reverse,  should  she  be  lost,  the  whole  troop  knew  their  fate 
would  be  some  merciless  punishment. 

Macgregor  and  the  deserter  of  Cressingham  were  the  first 
who  reached  the  spot  where  the  lady  had  been  left.  With  horror 
they  found  the  litter,  but  not  herself.  She  was  gone ;  but 
whether  carried  off:  by  the  mysterious  arm  which  had  felled 
their  lord  or  she  had  thrown  herself  into  the  foaming  gulf 
beneath  they  could  not  determine.  They  decided,  however, 
the  latter  should  be  their  report  to  Soulis,  knowing  he  would 
rather  believe  the  object  of  his  passions  had  perished  than 
that  she  had  escaped  his  toils. 

Almost  stupefied  with  consternation,  they  returned  to  repeat 
this  tale  to  their  furious  lord,  who,  on  having  his  wounds 
stanched,  had  recovered  from  his  swoon.  On  hearing  that  the 
beautiful  creature  he  had  so  lately  believed  Ms  own  beyond 
the  power  of  fate,  that  his  property,  as  he  called  her,  the  de- 
voted slave  of  his  will,  the  mistress  of  his  destiny,  was  lost  to 
him  forever,  swallowed  up  in  the  whelming  wave,  he  became 
frantic.  There  was  desperation  in  every  word.  He  raved, 
tore  up  the  earth  like  a  wild  beast,  and,  foaming  at  the  mouth, 
iashed  the  wife  of  Macgregor  from  him,  as  she  approached 
with  a  fresh  balsam  for  his  wounds.  "  Off,  scum  of  a  damned 
sex  ! "  cried  he.  "  Where  is  she  whom  I  intrusted  to  thy 
care  ?  " 

"My  lord,"  answered  the  affrighted  woman,  "you  know 
best.  You  terrified  the  poor  young  creature.  You  forced 
yourself  into  her  litter,  and  can  you  wonder  —  " 

"  That  I  should  force  you  to  perdition,  execrable  witch," 
cried  he,  "  that  knew  no*  better  how  to  prepare  a  slave  to  re- 
ceive her  lord  ! "  As  he  spoke  he  struck  her  again  ;  but  it  was 
with  his  gauntlet  hand,  and  the  eyes  of  the1  unfortunate  woman 
opened  no  more.  The  blow  fell  on  her  temple,  and  a  motion- 
less corpse  lay  before  him. 


THE   HUT.  103 

u  My  wife ! "  cried  the  poor  Macgregor,  putting  his  trem- 
bling arms  about  her  neck.  "Oh,  my  lord,  how  have  I  de- 
served this  ?  You  have  slain  her !  " 

"  Suppose  I  have  ?  "  returned  the  chief  with  a  cold  scorn ; 
"she  was  old  and  ugly;  and  could  you  recover  Helen,  you 
should  cull  Hermitage  for  a  substitute  for  this  prating  beldam." 

Macgregor  made  no  reply,  but  feeling  in  his  heart  that  he 
"who  sows  the  wind  must  reap  the  whirlwind/'  that  such 
were  the  rewards  from  villany  to  its  vile  instruments,  he 
could  not  but  say  to  himself,  "  I  deserved  it  of  my  God,  but 
not  of  thee;"  and  sobbing  over  the  remains  of  his  equally 
criminal  wife,  by  the  assistance  of  his  comrades  he  removed 
her  from  the  now  hated  presence  of  his  lord. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE    HUT. 

MEANWHILE  the  Lady  Helen,  hardly  rational  from  the  hor- 
ror and  hope  that  agitated  her,  extricated  herself  from  the 
dead  body,  and  in  her  eagerness  to  escape  would  certainly 
have  fallen  over  the  precipice  had  not  the  same  gallant  arm 
which  had  covered  her  persecutor  with  wounds  caught  her  as 
she  sprang  from  the  litter.  "  Fear  not,  lady,"  exclaimed  a  gen- 
tle voice ;  "  you  are  under  the  protection  of  a  Scottish  knight." 

There  was  a  kindness  in  the  sound  that  seemed  to  proclaim 
the  speaker  to  be  of  her  own  kindred;  she  felt  as  if  suddenly 
rescued  by  a  brother,  and  dropping  her  head  on  his  bosom,  a 
shower  of  grateful  tears  relieved  her  heart  and  prevented  her 
fainting.  Aware  that  no  time  was  to  b$  lost,  that  the  enemy 
might  soon  be  on  him  again,  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and 
with  the  activity  of  a  mountain  deer  crossed  two  rushing 
streams,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  even  under  the  foam  of 
their  flood,  and  then  treading  with  a  light  and  steady  step 
an  alpine  bridge  of  one  single  tree  which  arched  the  cataract 
below,  he  reached  the  opposite  side,  where,  spreading  his  plaid 
upon  the  rock,  he  laid  the  trembling  Helen  upon  it.  Then 
softly  breathing  his  bugle,  in  a  moment  he  was  surrounded  by 
a  number  of  men,  whose  rough  gratulations  might  have  re- 
awakened the  alarm  of  Helen,  had  she  not  still  heard  his  voice. 
There  was  graciousness  and  balm-distilling  sweetness  in  every 
tone,  and  she  listened  in  calm  expectation. 


104  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

He  directed  the  men  to  take  their  axes  and  cut  away,  on 
their  side  of  the  fall,  the  tree  which  arched  it.  It  was  proba- 
ble the  villain  he  had  just  assailed,  or  his  followers,  might 
pursue  him,  and  he  thought  it  prudent  to  demolish  the 
bridge. 

The  men  obeyed,  and  the  warrior  returned  to  his  fair  charge. 
It  was  raining  fast ;  and  fearful  of  further  exposing  her  to  the 
inclemencies  of  the  night,  he  proposed  leading  her  to  shelter. 
"  There  is  a  hermit's  cell  on  the  northern  side  of  this  mountain. 
I  will  conduct  you  thither  in  the  morning,  as  to  the  securest 
asylum ;  but  meanwhile  we  must  seek  a  nearer  refuge." 

"Anywhere,  sir,  with  honor  my  guide,"  answered  Helen, 
timidly. 

"  You  are  safe  with  me,  lady,"  returned  he,  "  as  in  the  arms 
of  the  Virgin.  I  am  a  man  who  can  now  have  no  joy  in 
womankind,  but  when  as  a  brother  I  protect  them.  Whoever 
you  are,  confide  in  me,  and  you  shall  not  be  betrayed." 

Helen  confidently  gave  him  her  hand  and  strove  to  rise ; 
but  at  the  first  attempt,  the  shackles  piercing  her  ankles,  she 
sunk  again  to  the  ground.  The  cold  iron  on  her  wrists  touched 
the  hand  of  her  preserver.  He  now  recollected  his  surprise 
on  hearing  the  clank  of  chains  when  carrying  her  over  the 
bridge.  "  Who,"  inquired  he,  "  could  have  done  this  unmanly 
deed?" 

"  The  wretch  from  whom  you  rescued  me,  to  prevent  my 
escape  from  a  captivity  worse  than  death." 

While  she  spoke  he  wrenched  open  the  manacles  from  her 
wrists  and  ankles  and  threw  them  over  the  precipice.  As  she 
heard  them  dash  into  the  torrent  an  unutterable  gratitude 
filled  her  heart ;  and  again  giving  her  hand  to  him,  to  lead  her 
forward,  she  said  with  earnestness,  "  Oh,  sir,  if  you  have  a  wife* 
or  sister,  should  they  ever  fall  into  the  like  peril  with  mine  — 
for  in  these  terrific  times  who  is  secure  ? —  may  Heaven  reward 
your  bravery  by  sending  them  such  a  preserver  ! " 

The  stranger  sighed  deeply.  "  Sweet  lady,"  returned  he,  "  I 
have  no  sister,  no  wife.  But  my  kindred  is,  nevertheless,  very 
numerous,  and  I  thank  thee  for  thy  prayer."  The  hero  sighed 
profoundly  again,  and  led  her  silently  down  the  windings  of 
the  declivity.  Having  proceeded  with  caution,  they  descended 
into  a  little  wooded  dell,  and  soon  approached  the  half-standing 
remains  of  what  had  once  been  a  shepherd's  hut. 

"  This,"  said  the  knight,  as  they  entered,  was  the  habitation 
of  a  good  old  man  who  fed  his  flock  on  these  mountains ;  but 
a  band  of  Southron  soldiers  forced  his  only  daughter  Iron? 


THE   HUT.  105 

him,  and,  plundering  his  little  abode,  drove  him  out  upon  the 
waste.  He  perished  the  same  night,  by  grief  and  the  inclem- 
encies of  the  weather.  His  son,  a  brave  youth,  was  left  for 
dead  by  his  sister's  ravishers ;  but  I  found  him  in  this  dreary 
solitude,  and  he  told  me  the  too  general  story  of  his  wounds 
and  his  despair.  Indeed,  lady,  when  I  heard  your  shrieks 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  chasm,  I  thought  they  might 
proceed  from  this  poor  boy's  sister,  and  I  flew  to  restore  their, 
to  each  other." 

Helen  shuddered  as  he  related  a  tale  so  nearly  resembling 
her  own ;  and  trembling  with  weakness,  and  horror  of  what 
might  have  been  her  fate  had  she  not  been  rescued  by  this 
gallant  stranger,  she  sunk  exhausted  upon  a  turf  seat.  The 
chief  still  held  her  hand.  It  was  very  cold,  and  he  called  to 
his  men  to  seek  fuel  to  make  a  fire.  While  his  messengers 
were  exploring  the  crannies  of  the  rocks  for  dried  leaves  and 
sticks,  Helen,  totally  overcome,  leaned  almost  motionless 
against  the  wall  of  the  hut.  Finding  by  her  shortening 
breath  that  she  was  fainting,  the  knight  took  her  in  his  arms, 
and  supporting  her  on  his  breast,  chafed  her  hands  and  her 
forehead.  His  efforts  were  vain :  she  seemed  to  have  ceased 
to  breathe ;  hardly  a  pulse  moved  her  heart.  Alarmed  at  such 
signs  of  death,  he  spoke  to  one  of  his  men  who  remained  in 
the  hut. 

The  man  answered  his  master's  inquiry  by  putting  a  flask 
into  his  hand.  The  knight  poured  some  of  its  contents  into 
her  mouth.  Her  streaming  locks  wetted  his  cheek.  "Poor 
lady !  '  said  he ;  "  she  will  perish  in  these  forlorn  regions, 
where  neither  warmth  nor  nourishment  can  be  found." 

To  his  glad  welcome  several  of  his  men  soon  after  entered 
with  a  quantity  of  withered  boughs,  which  they  had  found  in 
the  fissures  of  the  rock  at  some  distance.  With  these  a  fire 
was  speedily  kindled ;  and  its  blaze  diffusing  comfort  through 
the  chamber,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  a  sigh  from 
the  breast  of  his  charge.  Her  head  still  leaned  on  his  bosom 
when  she  opened  her  eyes.  The  light  shone  full  on  her  face. 

"Lady,"  said  he,  "I  bless  God  you  are  revived."  Her 
delicacy  shrunk  at  the  situation  in  which  she  found  her- 
self, and  raising  herself,  though  feebly,  she  thanked  him, 
and  requested  a  little  water.  It  was  given  to  her.  She 
drank  some,  and  would  have  met  the  fixed  and  compas- 
sionate gaze  of  the  knight  had  not  weakness  cast  such  a 
film  before  her  eyes  that  she  scarcely  saw  anything.  Being 
still  languid,  she  leaned  her  head  011  the  turf  seat.  Her  face 


106  THE    SCOTTISH   CHIEFS. 

was  pale  as  marble,  and  her  long  hair,  saturated  with  wet,  by 
its  darkness  made  her  look  of  a  more  deadly  hue. 

"  Death,  how  lovely  canst  thou  be  ! "  sighed  the  knight 
to  himself  —  he  even  groaned.  Helen  started,  and  looked 
around  her  with  alarm.  "Fear  not,"  said  he,  "I  only 
dreaded  your  pale  looks ;  but  you  revive,  and  will  yet  bless 
all  that  are  dear  to  you.  Suffer  me,  sweet  lady,  to  drain 
the  dangerous  wet  from  these  tresses."  He  took  hold  of 
them  as  he  spoke.  She  saw  the  water  running  from  her 
hair  over  his  hands,  and  allowing  his  kind  request,  he 
continued  wiping  her  glossy  locks  with  his  scarf,  till,  ex- 
hausted by  fatigue,  she  gradually  sunk  into  a  profound 
sleep. 

Dawn  had  penetrated  the  ruined  walls  of  the  hut  before 
Lady  Helen  awoke.  But  when  she  did,  she  was  refreshed; 
and  opening  her  eyes  —  hardly  conscious  where  she  was,  or 
whether  all  that  floated  in  her  memory  were  not  the  de- 
parting vapors  of  a  frightful  dream  —  she  turned  her  head, 
and  fixed  them  upon  the  figure  of  the  knight  who  was 
seated  near  her.  His  noble  air  and  the  pensive  expression  of 
his  fine  features  struck  like  a  spell  upon  her  gathering  recol- 
lections ;  she  at  once  remembered  all  she  had  suffered,  all  that 
she  owed  to  him.  She  moved.  Her  preserver  turned  his  eyes 
towards  her ;  seeing  she  was  awake,  he  rose  from  the  side  of  the 
dying  embers  he  had  sedulously  kept  alive  during  her  slumber, 
and  expressed  his  hopes  that  she  felt  restored.  She  returned 
him  a  grateful  reply  in  the  affirmative ;  and  he  quitted  her,  to 
rouse  his  men  for  their  journey  to  the  hermit's  cell. 

When  he  reentered,  he  found  Helen  braiding  up  the  fine 
hair  which  had  so  lately  been  scattered  by  the  elements.  She 
would  have  risen  at  his  approach,  but  he  seated  himself  on  a 
stone  at  her  feet.  "  We  shall  be  detained  here  a  few  minutes 
longer,"  said  he ;  "I  have  ordered  my  men  to  make  a  litter  of 
crossed  branches,  to  bear  you  on  their  shoulders.  Your  deli- 
cate limbs  would  not  be  equal  to  the  toil  of  descending  these 
heights  to  the  glen  of  stones.  The  venerable  man  who  inhab- 
its there  will  protect  you  until  he  can  summon  your  family, 
or  friends,  to  receive  his  charge." 

At  these  words,  which  Helen  thought  were  meant  to  re- 
prove her  for  not  having  revealed  herself,  she  blushed;  but 
fearfV  of  breathing  a  name  under  the  interdict  of  the  English 
governors,  and  which  had  already  spread  devastation  over  all 
with  whom  it  had  been  connected;  fearful  of  involving  her 
preserver's  safety,  by  making  him  aware  of  the  persecuted 


THE    HUT.  107 

creature  he  had  rescued,  she  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
with  the  color  heightening  on  her  cheeks,  replied:  "For 
your  humanity,  brave  sir,  shown  this  night  to  a  friendless 
woman,  I  must  be  ever  grateful,  but  not  even  to  the  hermit 
may  I  reveal  my  name.  It  is  fraught  with  danger  to  every 
honest  Scot  who  should  know  that  he  protects  one  who  bears 
it,  and  therefore,  least  of  all,  noble  stranger,  would  I  breathe 
it  to  you."  She  averted  her  face  to  conceal  the  emotion  she 
could  not  subdue. 

The  knight  looked  at  her  intensely,  and  profoundly  sighed. 
Half  her  unbraided  locks  lay  upon  her  bosom  which  now 
heaved  with  suppressed  feelings;  and  the  fast-falling  tears, 
gliding  through  her  long  eyelashes,  dropped  upon  his  hand  — 
he  sighed  again,  and  tore  his  eyes  from  her  countenance.  "I 
ask  not,  madam,  to  know  what  you  think  proper  to  conceal. 
But  danger  has  no  alarms  for  me,  when,  by  incurring  it,  I 
serve  those  who  need  a  protector." 

A  sudden  thought  flashed  across  her  mind  :  might  it  not  be 
possible  that  this  tender  guardian  of  her  safety,  this  heroic 
profferer  of  service,  was  the  noble  Wallace  ?  But  the  vain 
idea  fled.  He  was  pent  up  amidst  the  beleaguered  defiles 
of  Cartlane  craigs,  sworn  to  extricate  the  helpless  families 
of  his  followers  or  to  perish  with  them.  This  knight 
was  accompanied  by  none  but  men,  and  his  kind  eyes 
shone  in  too  serene  a  lustre  to  be  the  mirrors  of  the  disturbed 
soul  of  the  suffering  chief  of  Ellerslie.  "  Ah !  then."  mur- 
mured she  to  herself,  "are  there  two  men  in  Scotland  who 
will  speak  thus  ?  "  She  looked  up  in  his  face.  The  plumes 
of  his  bonnet  shaded  his  features,  but  she  saw  they  were 
paler  than  on  his  entrance,  and  a  strange  expression  of  dis- 
traction agitated  their  before  composed  lines.  His  eyes  were 
bent  to  the  ground  as  he  proceeded : 

"  I  am.  the  servant  of  my  fellow-creatures  —  command  me 
and  my  few  faithful  followers ;  and  if  it  be  in  the  power  of 
such  small  means  to  succor  you  or  yours,  I  am  ready  to 
answer  for  their  obedience.  If  the  villain  from  whom  I  had 
the  happiness  to  release  you  be  yet  more  deeply  implicated  in 
your  sorrows,  tell  me  how  they  can  be  relieved,  and  I  will 
attempt  it.  I  shall  make  no  new  enemies  by  the  deed,  for  the 
Southrons  and  I  are  at  eternal  enmity." 

Helen  could  not  withdraw  her  eyes  from  his  varying  coun- 
tenance, which,  from  underneath  his  dark  plumes,  seemed  like 
a  portentous  cloud,  at  intervals  to  emit  the  rays  of  the  cheer- 
ing sun  or  the  lightning  of  threatening  thunder.  "  Alas  ! " 


108  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

replied  she,  "ill  should  I  repay  such  nobleness  were  I  to 
involve  it  in  the  calamities  of  my  house.  No,  generous 
stranger,  I  must  remain  unknown.  Leave  me  with  the  her- 
mit, and  from  his  cell  I  will  send  to  some  relation  to  take  me 
thence." 

"I" urge  you  no  more,  gentle  lady,"  replied  the  knight, 
rising.  "  Were  I  at  the  head  of  an  army  instead  of  a  hand- 
ful of  men,  I  might  then  have  a  better  argument  for  offering 
my  services;  but  as  it  is,  I  feel  my  weakness  and  seek  to 
know  no  further." 

Helen  trembled  with  unaccountable  emotion.  "Were  you 
at  the  head  of  an  army  I  might  then  dare  to  reveal  the  full 
weight  of  my  anxieties ;  but  Heaven  has  already  been  suf- 
ficiently gracious  to  me  by  your  hands  in  redeeming  me 
from  my  cruelest  enemy,  and  for  the  rest,  I  put  my  trust  in 
the  same  overruling  Providence."  At  this  moment  a  man 
entered  and  told  the  knight  the  vehicle  was  finished,  the 
morning  fine,  and  his  men  ready  to  march.  He  turned  towards 
Helen:  "May  I  conduct  you  to  the  rude  carriage  we  have 
prepared  ?  " 

Helen  gathered  her  mantle  about  her ;  and  the  knight  throw- 
ing his  scarf  over  her  head,  —  it  had  no  other  covering,  — 
she  gave  him  her  hand,  and  he  led  her  out  of  the  hut  to  the 
side  of  the  bier.  It  was  overlaid  with  the  men's  plaids.  The 
knight  placed  her  on  it ;  and  the  carriers  raising  it  on  their 
shoulders,  her  deliverer  led  the  way,  and  they  took  their 
course  down  the  mountain. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE    GLEN    OF    STONES. 

THEY  proceeded  in  silence  through  the  curvings  of  the  dell 
till  it  opened  into  a  hazardous  path  along  the  top  of  a  far-ex- 
tending cliff,  which  overhung  and  clasped  in  the  western  side 
of  a  deep  loch.  As  they  mounted  the  pending  wall  of  this 
immense  amphitheatre,  Helen  watched  the  sublime  uprise  of 
the  king  of  light,  issuing  from  behind  the  opposite  citadel  of 
rocks  and  borne  aloft  on  a  throne  of  clouds  that  swam  in 
floating  gold.  The  herbage  on  the  cliffs  glittered  with  liquid 
emeralds  as  his  beams  kissed  their  summits,  and  the  lake 
beneath  sparkled  like  a  sea  of  molten  diamonds.  All  nature 


THE    GLEN    OF   STONES.  109 

seemed  to  rejoice  at  the  presence  of  this  magnificent  emblem 
of  the  Most  High.  Helen's  heart  swelled  with  devotion,  and 
its  sacred  voice  breathed  from  her  lips. 

"  Such/'  thought  she,  «  0  Sun,  art  thou !  The  resplendent 
image  of  the  Giver  of  all  Good.  Thy  cheering  beams,  like  his 
all-cheering  Spirit,  pervade  the  soul,  and  drive  thence  the 
despondency  of  cold  and  darkness.  But  bright  as  thou  art, 
how  does  the  similitude  fade  before  godlike  man,  the  true 
image  of  his  Maker !  How  far  do  his  protecting  arms  extend 
over  the  desolate  !  How  mighty  is  the  power  of  his  benevo- 
lence, to  dispense  succor,  to  administer  consolation ! " 

As  she  thus  mused  her  eyes  fell  on  the  noble  mien  of  the 
knight,  who,  with  his  spear  •  in  his  hand  and  wrapped  in  his 
dark  mantle  of  mingled  greens,  led  the  way  with  a  graceful 
but  rapid  step  along  the  shelving  declivity.  Turning  suddenly 
to  the  left,  he  struck  into  a  defile  between  two  prodigious 
craggy  mountains,  whose  brown  cheeks  trickling  with  ten 
thousand  rills  seemed  to  weep  over  the  deep  gloom  of  the 
valley  beneath.  Scattered  fragments  of  rock  from  the  cliffs 
above  covered  with  their  huge  and  almost  impassable  masses 
the  surface  of  the  ground.  Not  an  herb  was  to  be  seen ;  all 
was  black,  barren,  and  terrific.  On  entering  this  horrid  pass 
Helen  would  have  shuddered  had  she  not  placed  implicit  con- 
fidence in  her  conductor. 

As  they  advanced  the  vale  gradually  narrowed,  and  at  last 
shut  them  within  an  immense  chasm  which  seemed  to  have 
been  cleft  at  its  towering  summit  to  admit  a  few  beams  of 
light  to  the  desert  below.  A  dark  river  flowed  along,  amid 
which  the  bases  of  the  mountains  showed  their  union  by  the 
mingling  of  many  a  rugged  cliff  projecting  upwards  in  a 
variety  of  strange  and  hideous  forms.  The  men  who  carried 
Helen,  with  some  difficulty  found  a  safe  footing.  However, 
after  frequent  rests  and  unremitted  caution  they  ai  last  ex- 
tricated themselves  from  the  most  intricate  path,  and  more 
lightly  followed  their  chief  into  a  less  gloomy  part  of  this 
chaos  of  nature.  The  knight  stopped  and  approaching  the 
bier  told  Helen  they  had  arrived  at  the  end  of  their  journey. 

"  In  the  heart  of  that  cliff,"  said  he,  "  is  the  hermit's  cell ; 
a  desolate  shelter,  but  a  safe  one.  Old  age  and  poverty  hold 
no  temptations  to  the  enemies  of  Scotland." 

As  he  spoke,  the  venerable  man  who  had  heard  voices  be- 
neath appeared  on  the  rock;  and  while  his  tall  and  majestic 
figure,  clad  in  gray,  moved  forward,  and  his  silver  beard  flowed 
from  his  saintly  countenance  upon  the  air,  he  seemed  the 


110  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

bard  of  Morven  issuing  from  his  cave  of  shells  to  bid  a  hero's 
welcome  to  the  young  and  warlike  Oscar. 

"  Bless  thee,  my  son !  "  cried  he,  as  he  descended ;  "  what 
good  or  evil  accident  hath  returned  thee  so  soon  to  these 
solitudes  ?  " 

The  knight  briefly  related  the  circumstances  of  Helen's 
rescue,  and  that  he  had  brought  her  to  share  his  asylum. 

The  hermit  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  graciously  promised 
her  every  service  in  his  power.  He  then  preceded  the  knight, 
whose  firmer  arm  supported  her  up  the  rock,  to  the  outer 
apartment  of  the  cell. 

A  sacred  awe  struck  her  as  she  entered  this  place,  dedi- 
cated wholly  to  God.  She  bowed  and  crossed  herself.  The 
hermit,  observing  her  devotion,  blessed  her  and  bade  her  wel- 
come to  the  abode  of  peace. 

"  Here,  daughter,"  said  he,  "  has  one  son  of  persecuted  Scot- 
land found  a  refuge.  There  is  naught  alluring  in  these  wilds 
to  attract  the  spoiler.  The  green  herb  is  all  the  food  they 
afford,  and  the  limpid  water  their  best  beverage." 

"  Ah !  "  returned  Helen,  with  grateful  animation,  "  would 
to  Heaven  that  all  who  love  the  freedom  of  Scotland  were 
now  within  this  glen !  The  herb  and  the  stream  would  be 
luxuries  when  tasted  in  liberty  and  hope.  My  father,  his 
friend  —  "  she  stopped,  recollecting  that  she  had  almost  be- 
trayed the  secrecy  she  meant  to  maintain,  and  looking  down, 
remained  in  confused  silence.  The  knight  gazed  at  her  and 
much  wished  to  penetrate  what  she  concealed,  but  delicacy 
forbade  him  to  urge  her  again.  He  spoke  not ;  but  the  hermit, 
ignorant  of  her  reluctance  to  reveal  her  family,  resumed : 

"I  do  not  wonder,  gentle  lady,  that  you  speak  in  terms 
which  tell  me  even  your  tender  sex  feels  the  tyranny  of 
Edward.  Who  in  Scotland  is  exempt  ?  The  whole  country 
groans  beneath  his  oppressions,  and  the  cruelty  of  his  agents 
makes  its  rivulets  run  with  blood.  Six  months  ago  I  was 
abbot  of  Scone.  Because  I  refused  to  betray  my  trust,  and 
resign  the  archives  of  the  kingdom  lodged  there,  Edward,  the 
rebel-anointed  of  the  Lord,  the  profaner  of  the  sanctuary, 
sent  his  emissaries  to  sack  the  convent,  to  tear  the  holy  pillar 
of  Jacob  from  its  shrine,  and  to  wrest  from  my  grasp  the 
records  I  refused  to  deliver.  All  was  done  as  the  usurper 
commanded.  Most  of  my  brethren  were  slain.  Myself  and 
the  remainder  were  turned  out  upon  the  waste.  We  retired 
to  the  monastery  of  Cambus-keimeth ;  but  there  oppression 
found  us.  Cressingham,  having  seized  on  other  religious 


THE    GLEN    OF   STONES.  Ill 

houses,  determined  to  swell  his  hoards  with  the  plunder  of 
that  also.  In  the  dead  of  night  the  attack  was  made.  My 
brethren  fled ;  I  knew  not  whither  to  go.  But  determined  to 
fly  far  from  the  tract  of  our  ravages,  I  took  my  course  over 
the  hills ;  and  finding  the  valley  of  stones  fit  for  my  purpose, 
for  two  months  have  lived  alone  in  this  wilderness." 

"  Unhappy  Scotland !  "  ejaculated  Helen.  Her  eyes  had  fol- 
lowed the  chief,  who,  during  this  narrative,  leaned  thought- 
fully against  the  entrance  of  the  cave.  His  eyes  were  cast 
upwards  with  an  expression  that  made  her  heart  utter  the 
exclamation  which  had  escaped  her.  The  knight  turned  and 
approached  her.  "  You  hear  from  the  lips  of  my  venerable 
friend,"  said  he,  "  a  direful  story ;  happy  then  am  I,  gentle 
lady,  that  you  and  he  have  found  a  refuge,  though  a  rough 
one.  I  must  now  tear  myself  from  this  tranquillity  to  seek 
scenes  more  befitting  a  younger  son  of  the  country  he  de- 
plores." 

Helen  felt  unable  to  answer.  But  the  abbot  spoke  :  "  And 
am  I  not  to  see  you  again  ?  " 

"  That  is  as  Heaven  wills,"  replied  he ;  "  but  as  it  is  unlikely 
on  this  side  the  grave,  my  best  pledge  of  friendship  is  this  lady. 
To  you  she  may  reveal  what  she  has  withheld  from  me ;  but 
in  either  case,  she  is  secure  in  your  goodness." 

"  Rely  on  my  faith,  my  son ;  and  may  the  Almighty's  shield 
hang  on  your  steps  !  " 

The  knight  turned  to  Helen :  "  Farewell,  sweet  lady  ! "  said 
he.  She  trembled  at  the  words,  and  hardly  conscious  of  what 
she  did,  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  He  -took  it  and  drew  it 
towards  his  lips,  but  checking  himself,  he  only  pressed  it,  while 
in  a  mournful  voice  he  added,  "  In  your  prayer,  sometimes  re- 
member the  most  desolate  of  men." 

A  mist  seemed  to  pass  over  the  eyes  of  Lady  Helen!  She 
felt  as  if  on  the  point  of  losing  something  most  precious  to  her. 
"  My  prayers  for  my  own  preserver  and  for  my  father's,"  cried 
she  in  an  agitated  voice,  "  shall  ever  be  mingled.  And  if  ever 
it  be  safe  to  remember  me,  —  should  Heaven  indeed  arm  the 
patriot's  hand,  —  then  my  father  may  be  proud  to  know  and  to 
thank  the  brave  deliverer  of  his  child." 

The  knight  paused,  and  looked  with  animation  upon  her. 
"Then  your  father  is  in  arms,  and  against  the  tyrant.  Tell 
me  where,  and  you  see  before  you  a  man  who  is  ready  to  join 
him  and  to  lay  down  his  life  in  the  just  cause." 

At  this  vehement  declaration  Lady  Helen's  full  heart  over- 
flowed and  she  burst  into  tears.  He  drew  towards  her  and  in 


112  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

a  moderated  voice  continued :  "  My  men,  though  few,  are  brave. 
They  are  devoted  to  their  country,  and  are  willing  for  her  sake 
to  follow  me  to  victory  or  to  death.  As  I  am  a  knight,  I  am 
sworn  to  defend  the  cause  of  right ;  and  where  shall  I  so  justly 
find  it  as  on  the  side  of  bleeding,  wasted  Scotland  ?  How 
shall  I  so  well  pursue  my  career  as  in  the  defence  of  her  in- 
jured sons  ?  Speak,  gentle  lady  !  trust  me  with  your  noble 
father's  name,  and  he  shall  not  have  cause  to  blame  the  confi- 
dence you  repose  in  a  true  though  wandering  Scot." 

"My  father,"  replied  Helen,  weeping  afresh,  "is  not  where 
your  generous  service  can  reach  him.  Two  brave  chiefs,  one  a 
kinsman  of  my  own  and  the  other  his  friend,  are  now  col- 
leagued  to  free  him.  If  they  fail,  my  whole  house  falls  in 
blood ;  and  to  add  another  victim  to  the  destiny  which  in  that 
case  will  overwhelm  me — the  thought  is  beyond  my  strength." 
Faint  with  agitation  and  the  horrible  images  which  reawakened 
her  direst  fears,  she  stopped,  and  then  added  in  a  suppressed 
voice,  "  Farewell !" 

"Not  till  you  hear  me  further,"  replied  he.  "I  repeat,  I 
have  now  a  scanty  number  of  followers,  but  I  leave  these 
mountains  to  gather  more.  Tell  me,  then,  where  I  may  join 
these  chiefs  you  speak  of ;  give  me  a  pledge  that  I  come  from 
you ;  and  whoever  may  be  your  father,  as  he  is  a  true  Scot,  I 
will  compass  his  release  or  perish  in  the  attempt." 

"Alas!  generous  stranger,"  cried  she,  "to  what  would  you 
persuade  me  ?  You  know  not  the  peril  that  you  ask." 

"Nothing  is  perilous  to  me,"  replied  he,  with  a  heroic  smile, 
"that  is  to  serve  my  country.  I  have  no  interest,  no  joy  but 
in  her.  Give  me,  then,  the  only  happiness  of  which  I  am  now 
capable,  and  send  me  to  serve  her  by  freeing  one  of  her  de- 
fenders." 

Helen  hesitated.  The  tumult  of  her  mind  dried  her  tears. 
She  looked  up  with  all  these  inward  agitations  painted  on  her 
cheeks.  His  beaming  eyes  were  full  of  patriotic  ardor ;  and 
his  fine  countenance,  composed  into  a  heavenly  calmness  by 
the  sublime  sentiments  which  occupied  his  soul,  made  him 
appear  to  her  not  as  a  man,  but  as  an  angel  from  the  armed 
host  of  heaven. 

"  Fear  not,  lady,"  said  the  hermit,  "  that  you  would  plunge 
your  deliverer  into  any  extraordinary  danger  by  involving 
him  in  what  you  might  call  rebellion  against  the  usurper. 
He  is  already  a  proscribed  man." 

"  Proscribed !  "  repeated  she  ;  "  wretched  indeed  is  my  coun- 
try when  her  noblest  spirits  are  denied  the  right  to  live, 


THE    GLEN    OF    STONES.  113 

when  every  step  they  take  to  regam  what  has  been  torn  from 
them  only  involves  them  in  deeper  ruin." 

"No  country  is  wretched,  sweet  lady/'  returned  the  knight, 
"  till,  by  a  dastardly  acquiescence,  it  consents  to  its  own  slav- 
ery. Bonds  and  death  are  the  utmost  of  our  enemy's  mal- 
ice :  the  one  is  beyond  his  power  to  inflict,  when  a  man  is 
determined  to  die  or  to  live  free ;  and  for  the  other,  which  of 
us  will  think  that  ruin  which  leads  to  the  blessed  freedom  of 
oaradise  ?  " 

Helen  looked  on  the  chief  as  she  used  to  look  on  her  cousin 
vhen  expressions  of  virtuous  enthusiasm  burst  from  his  lips, 
3ut  now  it  was  rather  with  the  gaze  of  admiring  awe  than 
the  exultation  of  one  youthful  mind  sympathizing  with  an- 
other. "  You  would  teach  confidence  to  Despair  herself,"  re- 
turned she ;  "  again  I  hope,  for  God  does  not  create  in  vain. 
You  shall  know  my  father ;  but  first,  generous  stranger,  let 
me  apprise  you  of  every  danger  with  which  that  knowledge  is 
surrounded.  He  is  hemmed  in  by  enemies.  Alas,  how  closely 
are  they  connected  with  him !  Not  the  English  only,  but  the 
most  powerful  of  his  own  countrymen,  are  leagued  against 
him.  They  sold  my  father  to  captivity,  and  perhaps  to 
death;  and  I,  wretched  I,  was  the  price.  To  free  him  the 
noblest  of  Scottish  knights  is  now  engaged;  but  such  hosts 
impede  him,  that  hope  hardly  dares  hover  over  his  tremendous 
path." 

"  Then,"  cried  the  stranger,  "  let  my  arm  be  second  to  his  in 
the  great  achievement.  My  heart  yearns  to  meet  a  brother  in 
arms  who  feels  for  Scotland  what  I  do  ;  and  with  such  a  coad- 
jutor I  dare  promise  your  father  liberty,  and  that  the  power 
of  England  shall  be  shaken." 

Helen's  heart  beat  violently  at  these  words.  "  I  would  not 
defer  the  union  of  two  such  minds.  Go,  then,  to  the  Cartlane 
craigs.  But,  alas  !  how  can  I  direct  you  ?  "  cried  she  ;  "  the 
passes  are  beset  with  English,  and  I  know  not  whether  at 
this  moment  the  brave  Wallace  survives  to  be  again  the  deliv- 
3rer  of  my  father." 

Helen  paused.  The  recollection  of  all  that  Wallace  had  suf- 
fered for  the  sake  of  her  father,  and  of  the  mortal  extremity 
in  which  Ker  had  left  him,  rose  like  a  dreadful  train  of  appa- 
ritions before  her.  A  pale  horror  overspread  her  countenance ; 
and,  lost  in  these  remembrances,  she  did  not  remark  the  start 
and  rushing  color  of  the  knight  as  she  pronounced  the  name 
of  Wallace. 

"  If  Wallace  ever  had  the  happiness  of  serving  any  who 

VOL.  I.  — 8 


114  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

belonged  to  you,"  returned  the  knight,  "  he  has  at  least  one 
source  of  pleasure  in  that  remembrance.  Tell  me  what  he  can 
further  do?  Only  say,  where  is  that  father  whom  you  say 
he  once  preserved,  and  I  will  hasten  to  yield  my  feeble  aid 
to  repeat  the  service." 

"  Alas  !  "  replied  Helen,  "  I  cannot  but  repeat  my  fears  that 
the  bravest  of  men  no  longer  exists.  Two  days  before  I  was 
betrayed  into  the  hands  of  the  traitor  from  whom  you  rescued 
me,  a  messenger  from  Cartlane  craigs  informed  my  cousin  that 
the  gallant  Wallace  was  surrounded,  and  if  my  father  did  not 
send  his  forces  to  relieve  him,  he  must  inevitably  perish.  No 
forces  could  my  father  send ;  he  was  then  made  a  prisoner  by 
the  English,  his  retainers  shared  the  same  fate,  and  none  but 
my  cousin  escaped  to  accompany  the  honest  Scot  back  to  his 
master.  My  cousin  set  forth  with  a  few  followers  to  join  him 
—  a  few  against  thousands." 

"They  are  in  arms  for  their  country,  lady,"  returned  the 
knight,  "  and  a  thousand  invisible  angels  guard  them ;  fear  not 
for  them.  But  for  your  father,  name  to  me  the  place  of  his 
confinement,  and  as  I  have  not  the  besiegers  of  Cartlane  craigs 
to  encounter,  I  engage,  with  God's  help  and  the  arms  of  my 
men  (who  never  yet  shrunk  from  sword  or  spear),  to  set  the 
brave  earl  free." 

"  How?  "  exclaimed  Helen,  remembering  that  she  had  not 
yet  mentioned  her  father's  rank,  and  gazing  at  him  with  aston- 
ishment. "  Do  you  know  his  name  ?  is  the  misfortune  of  my 
father  already  so  far  spread  ?  " 

"  Rather  say  his  virtue,  lady,"  answered  the  knight ;  "  no 
man  who  watches  over  the  destiny  of  our  devoted  country  can 
be  ignorant  of  her  friends,  or  of  the  sufferers  who  bear  injury 
for  her  sake.  I  know  that  the  Earl  of  Mar  has  made  himself 
a  generous  sacrifice,  but  I  am  yet  to  learn  the  circumstances 
from  you.  Speak  without  reserve,  that  I  may  seek  the  accom- 
plishment of  my  vow,  and  restore  to  Scotland  its  best  friend." 

"  Thou  brother  in  heart  to  the  generous  Wallace !  "  exclaimed 
Lady  Helen,  "  my  voice  is  feeble  to  thank  thee."  The  hermit, 
who  had  listened  in  silent  interest  now  fearing  the  consequence 
of  so  much  emotion,  presented  her  with  a  cup  of  water  and  a 
little  fruit  to  refresh  herself  before  she  satisfied  the  inquiries 
of  the  knight.  She  put  the  cup  to  her  lips  to  gratify  the  benev- 
olence of  her  host ;  but  her  anxious  spirit  was  too  much  occu- 
pied in  the  concerns  dearest  to  her  heart  to  feel  any  wants  of 
the  body,  and  turning  to  the  knight  she  briefly  related  what 
had  been  the  design  of  her  father  with  regard  to  Sir  William 


THE    GLEN    OF   STONES.  115 

Wallace ;  how  lie  had  been  seized  at  Bothwell,  and  sent  with 
his  family  a  prisoner  to  Dumbarton  castle. 

"  Proceed,  then,  thither,"  continued  she.  "  If  Heaven  have 
yet  spared  the  lives  of  Wallace  and  my  cousin  Andrew  Murray, 
you  will  meet  them  before  its  walls.  Meanwhile  I  shall  seek 
the  protection  of  my  father's  sister,  and  in  her  castle  near  the 
Forth  abide  in  safety.  But,  noble  stranger,  one  bond  I  must 
lay  upon  you :  should  you  come  up  with  my  cousin,  do  not  dis- 
cover that  you  have  met  with  me.  He  is  precipitate  in  resent- 
ment; and  his  hatred  is  so  hot  against  Soulis,  my  betrayer, 
that  should  he  know  the  outrage  I  have  sustained,  he  would,  I 
fear,  run  himself  and  the  general  cause  into  danger  by  seek- 
ing an  immediate  revenge." 

The  stranger  readily  passed  his  word  to  Helen  that  he  would 
never  mention  her  name  to  any  of  her  family  until  she  herself 
should  give  him  leave.  "  But  when  your  father  is  restored  to 
his  rights,"  continued  he,  "  in  his  presence  I  hope  to  claim  my 
acquaintance  with  his  admirable  daughter." 

Helen  blushed  at  this  compliment :  it  was  not  more  than 
any  man  in  his  situation  might  have  said,  but  it  confused  her, 
and  hardly  knowing  what  were  her  thoughts,  she  answered, 
"  His  personal  freedom  may  be  effected ;  and  God  grant  such  a 
reward  to  your  prowess  !  But  his  other  rights,  what  can  re- 
cover them  ?  His  estates  sequestrated,  his  vassals  in  bonds ; 
all  power  of  the  Earl  of  Mar  will  be  annihilated,  and  from 
some  obscure  refuge  like  this  must  he  utter  his  thanks  to  his 
daughter's  preserver." 

"Not  so,  lady,"  replied  he;  "the  sword  is  now  raised  in 
Scotland  that  cannot  be  laid  down  till  it  be  broken  or  have 
conquered.  All  have  suffered  by  Edward  :  the  powerful  ban- 
ished into  other  countries  that  their  wealth  might  reward 
foreign  mercenaries ;  the  poor  driven  into  the  waste  that  the 
meanest  Southron  might  share  the  spoil.  Where  all  have  suf- 
fered, all  must  be  ready  to  avenge  ;  and  when  a  whole  people 
take  up  arms  to  regain  their  rights,  what  force  can  prevent 
restitution  ?  God  is  with  them  ! "  I 

"  So  I  felt,"  returned  Helen,  "  while  I  had  not  yet  seen  the 
horrors  of  the  contest.  While  my  father  commanded  in  Both- 
well  castle  and  was  sending  out  auxiliaries  to  the  patriot  chief, 
I  too  felt  nothing  but  the  inspiration  which  led  them  on,  and 
saw  nothing  but  the  victory  which  must  crown  so  just  a  cause. 
But  now,  when  all  whom  my  father  commanded  are  slain  or 
carried  away  by  the  enemy  ;  when  he  is  himself  a  prisoner,  and 
awaiting  the  sentence  of  the  tyrant  he  opposed;  when  the 


116  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

gallant  Wallace,  instead  of  being  able  to  hasten  to  his  rescue, 
is  besieged  by  a  numberless  host,  —  hope  almost  dies  within  me, 
and  I  fear  that  whoever  may  be  fated  to  free  Scotland,  my 
beloved  father  and  those  belonging  to  him  are  first  to  be  made 
a  sacrifice." 

She  turned  pale  as  she  spoke,  and  the  stranger  resumed. 
"  No,  lady,  if  there  be  that  virtue  in  Scotland  which  can  alone 
deserve  freedom,  it  will  be  achieved.  I  am  an  inconsiderable 
man,  but  relying  on  the  God  of  Justice,  I  promise  you  your 
father's  liberty ;  and  let  his  freedom  be  a  pledge  to  you  for 
that  of  your  country.  I  now  go '  to  rouse  a  few  brave  spirits 
to  arms.  Kemember,  the  battle  is  not  to  the  strong,  nor  victory 
with  a  multitude  of  hosts.  The  banner  !  of  St.  Andrew  was 
once  held  from  the  heavens  over  a  little  band  of  Scots  while 
they  discomfited  a  thousand  enemies  —  the  same  arm  leads  me 
on ;  and,  if  need  be,  I  despair  not  to  see  it  again,  like  the 
flaming  pillar  before  the  Israelites,  consuming  the  enemies  of 
liberty,  even  in  the  fulness  of  their  might." 

While  he  yet  spoke,  the  hermit  reentered  from  the  inner 
cell,  supporting  a  youth  on  his  arm.  At  sight  of  the  knight, 
who  held  out  his  hand  to  him,  he  dropped  on  his  knees  and 
burst  into  tears.  "  Do  you,  then,  leave  me  ?  "  cried  he.  "  Am 
I  not  to  serve  my  preserver  ?  " 

Helen  rose  in  strange  surprise ;  there  was  something  in  the 
feelings  of  the  boy  that  was  infectious ;  and  while  her  own 
heart  beat  violently,  she  looked  first  on  his  emaciated  figure, 
and  then  at  the  noble  contour  of  the  knight,  "  where  every 
god  had  seemed  to  set  his  seal."  His  beaming  eyes  appeared 
the  very  fountains  of  consolation,  his  cheek  was  bright  with 
generous  emotions,  and  turning  from  the  suppliant  boy  to 
Helen,  "  Eise,"  said  he  to  the  youth,  "  and  behold  in  this  lady 
the  object  of  the  service  to  which  I  appoint  you.  You  will  soon, 
I  hope,  be  sufficiently  recovered  to  attend  upon  her  wishes  as 
you  would  upon  mine.  Be  her  servant  and  her  guard ;  and  when 
we  meet  again,  as  she  will  then  be  under  the  protection  of  her 
father,  if  you  do  not  prefer  so  gentle  a  service  before  the  rougher 
one  of  war,  I  will  resume  you  to  myself." 

The  youth,  who  had  obeyed  the  knight  and  risen,  bowed 
respectfully ;  and  Helen,  uttering  some  incoherent  words  of 

1  At  a  time  when  Achaius,  King  of  Scots,  and  Hungus,  King  of  the  Picts,  were  fiercely 
driven  by  Athelstan,  King  of  Northumberland,  into  East  Lothian,  full  of  terrors  of  what 
the  next  morning  might  bring  forth,  Hungus  fell  into  a  sleep,  and  beheld  a  vision,  which, 
tradition  tells,  was  verified  the  ensuing  day  by  the  appearance  of  the  cross  of  St.  Andrew 
held  out  to  him  from  the  heavens  and  waving  him  to  victory.  Under  this  banner  he  con- 
quered the  Northumberland  forces;  and  slaying  their  leader,  the  scene  of  the  battle  has 
henceforth  been  called  Athelstanford.  —  (1809.) 


THE    HERMIT'S    CELL.  117 

thanks  to  hide  her  agitation,  turned  away.  The  hermit  ex- 
claimed,  "  Again,  my  son,  I  beseech  Heaven  to  bless  thee  !  " 

"  And  may  its  guardian  care  shield  all  here  ! "  replied  the 
knight.  Helen  looked  up  to  bid  him  a  last  farewell  —  but  he 
was  gone.  The  hermit  had  left  the  cell  with  him,  and  the 
youth  also  had  disappeared  into  the  inner  cave.  Being  left 
alone,  she  threw  herself  down  before  the  altar,  and,  giving  way 
to  a  burst  of  tears,  inwardly  implored  protection  for  that  brave 
knight's  life,  and  by  his  means  to  grant  safety  to  Wallace  and 
freedom  to  her  father. 

As  she  prayed,  her  emotion  subsided,  and  a  holy  confidence 
elevating  her  mind  she  remained  in  an  ecstasy  of  hope  till  a  sol- 
emn voice  from  behind  him  called  her  from  this  happy  trance. 

"  Blessed  are  they  which  put  their  trust  in  God." 

She  calmly  rose  and  perceived  the  hermit,  who,  on  entering, 
had  observed  her  devout  position,  and  the  spontaneous  bene- 
diction broke  from  his  lips.  "  Daughter,"  said  he,  leading,  her  to 
a  seat,  "  this  hero  will  prevail,  for  the  Power  before  whose  altar 
you  have  just  knelt  has  declared,  'My  might  is  with  them  who 
obey  my  laws  and  put  their  trust  in  me.'  You  speak  highly 
of  the  young  and  valiant  Sir  William  Wa^ace>  but  I  cannot 
conceive  that  he  can  be  better  formed  for  great  and  heroic 
deeds  than  this  chief.  Suppose  them,  then,  to  be  equal ;  when 
they  have  met,  with  two  such  leaders,  what  may  not  a  few  de- 
termined Scots  perform  ?  " 

Helen  sympathized  with  the  cheering  prognostications  of  the 
hermit,  and  wishing  to  learn  the  name  of  this  rival  of  a  char- 
acter she  had  regarded  as  unparalleled,  she  asked  with  a  blush 
by  what  title  she  must  call  the  knight  who  had  undertaken  so 
hazardous  an  enterprise  for  her. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 
THE  HERMIT'S  CELL. 

"I  KNOW  not,"  returned  the  hermit.  "  I  never  saw  your  gal- 
lant deliverer  before  yesterday  morning.  Broken  from  my 
matins  by  a  sudden  noise,  I  beheld  a  deer  rush  down  the  preci- 
pice and  fall  headlong.  As  he  lay  struggling  amongst  the 
stones  at  the  entrance  of  my  cave,  I  had  just  observed  an  arrow 
in  his  side,  when  a  shout  issued  from  the  rocks  above,  and  look- 


118  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

ing  up  I  beheld  a  young  chieftain,  with  a  bow  in  his  hand,  leap- 
ing  from  cliff  to  cliff,  till  springing  from  a  high  projection  on  the 
right  he  lit  at  once  at  the  head  of  the  wounded  deer. 

"  I  emerged  from  the  recess  that  concealed  me,  and  addressed 
him  with  the  benediction  of  the  morning.  His  plaided  followers 
immediately  appeared,  and  with  a  stroke  of  their  ready  weapons 
slew  the  animal.  The  chief  left  them  to  dress  it  for  their  own 
refreshment,  and  on  my  invitation  entered  the  cell  to  share 
a  hermit's  fare. 

"  I  told  him  who  I  was,  and  what  had  driven  me  to  this  se- 
clusion. In  return,  he  informed  me  of  a  design  he  had  conceived 
to  stimulate  the  surrounding  chiefs  to  some  exertions  for  their 
country;  but  as  he  never  mentioned  his  name,  I  concluded  he 
wished  it  to  remain  unrevealed,  and  therefore  I  forbore  to 
inquire  it.  I  imparted  to  him  my  doubts  of  the  possibility  of  any 
single  individual  being  able  to  arouse  the  slumbering  courage 
of  our  country;  but  his  language  soon  filled  me  with  other 
thoughts.  The  arguments  he  means  to  use  are  few  and  conclu- 
sive. They  are  these  :  the  perfidy  of  King^Edward,  who,  deemed 
a  prince  of  high  honor,  had  been  chosen  umpire  in  the  cause 
of  Bruce  and  Baliol.  He  accepted  the  task  in  the  character 
of  a  friend  to  Scotland ;  but  no  sooner  was  he  advanced  into 
the  heart  of  our  kingdom,  and  at  the  head  of  the  large  army  he 
had  treacherously  introduced  as  a  mere  appendage  of  state, 
than  -he  declared  the  act  of  judgment  was  his  right,  as  liege  lord 
of  the  realm.  This  falsehood,  which  our  records  disproved  at 
the  outset,  was  not  his  only  baseness  :  he  bought  the  conscience 
of  Baliol,  and  adjudged  to  him  the  throne.  The  recreant  prince 
acknowledged  him  his  master,  and  in  that  degrading  ceremony 
of  homage  he  was  followed  by  almost  all  the  lowland  Scottish 
lords.  But  this  vile  yielding  did  not  purchase  them  peace; 
Edward  demanded  oppressive  services  from  the  king,  and  the 
castles  of  the  nobility  to  be  resigned  to  English  governors. 
These  requisitions  being  remonstrated  against  by  a  few  of  our 
boldest  chiefs  (amongst  whom  your  illustrious  father,  gentle 
lady,  stood  the  most  conspicuous),  the  tyrant  repeated  them 
with  additional  demands,  and  prepared  to  resent  the  appeal  on 
the  whole  nation. 

"  Three  months  have  hardly  elapsed  since  the  fatal  battle  of 
Dunbar,  where,  indignant  at  the  accumulated  outrages  com- 
mitted on  their  passive  monarch,  our  irritated  nobles  at  last 
rose,  but  too  late,  to  assert  their  rights.  Alas  !  one  defeat  drove 
them  to  despair.  Baliol  was  taken,  and  themselves  obliged  to 
swear  fealty  to  their  enemy.  Then  came  the  seizure  of  the  treas- 


THE    HERMIT'S    CELL.  119 

ures  of  our  monasteries,  the  burning  of  the  national  records, 
the  sequestration  of  our  property,  the  banishment  of  our  chiefs, 
the  violation  of  our  women,  and  the  slavery  or  murder  of  the 
poor  people  yoked  to  the  land.  '  The  storm  of  desolation  thus 
raging  over  our  country,  how/  cried  the  young  warrior  to  me, 
'  can  any  of  her  sons  shrink  from  the  glory  of  again  attempting 
her  restoration  ?  '  He  then  informed  me  that  Earl  de  Warenne 
(whom  Edward  had  left  Lord  Warden  of  Scotland)  is  taken  ill, 
and  retired  to  London,  leaving  Aymer  de  Valence  to  be  his  dep- 
uty. To  this  new  tyrant  De  Warenne  has  lately  sent  a  host 
of  mercenaries,  to  hold  the  south  of  Scotland  in  subjection,  and 
to  reenforce  Cressingham  and  Ormsby,  two  noted  plunderers, 
who  command  northwards  from  Stirling  to  the  shores  of  Suth- 
erland. 

"  With  these  representations  of  the  conduct  of  our  oppressors, 
the  brave  knight  demonstrated  the  facility  with  which  invaders, 
drunk  with  power  and  gorged  with  rapine,  could  be  vanquished 
by  a  resolute  and  hardy  people.  The  absence  of  Edward,  who  is 
now  abroad,  increases  Jbhe  probability  of  success.  The  knight's 
design  is  to  infuse  his  own  spirit  into  the  bosoms  of  the  chiefs 
in  this  part  of  the  kingdom.  By  their  assistance  to  seize  the 
fortresses  in  the  Lowlands,  and  so  form  a  chain  of  repulsion 
against  the  admission  of  fresh  troops  from  England.  Then, 
while  other  chiefs,  to  whom  he  means  to  apply,  rise  in  the 
Highlands,  the  Southron  garrisons  there,  being  unsupported  by 
supplies,  must  become  an  easy  prey,  and  would  yield  men  of 
consequence  to  be  exchanged  for  our  countrymen  now  prison- 
ers in  England.  For  the  present  he  wishes  to  be  furnished 
with  troops  merely  enough  to  take  some  castle  of  power  suffi- 
cient to  give  confidence  to  his  friends.  On  his  becoming  master 
of  such  a  place  it  should  be  the  signal  for  all  to  declare  them- 
selves, and,  rising  at  once,  overwhelm  Edward's  garrisons  in 
every  part  of  Scotland. 

"  This  is  the  knight's  plan ;  and  for  your  sake,  as  well  as  for 
the  cause,  I  hope  the  first  fortress  he  gains  may  be  that  of 
Dumbarton;  it  has  always  been  considered  the  key  of  the 
country." 

"  May  Heaven  grant  it,  holy  father  ! "  returned  Helen ;  *'  and 
whoever  this  knight  may  be,  I  pray  the  blessed  St.  Andrew  to 
guide  his  arms.'7 

"If  I  may  venture  to  guess  who  he  is,"  replied  the  hermit, 
"  I  would  say  that  noble  brow  was  formed  to  some  day  wear  a 
crown." 

"  What ! "  cried  Helen,  starting, "  you  think  this  knight  is  the 
royal  Bruce  ?  » 


120  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"I  am  at  a  loss  what  to  think/'  replied  the  hermit;  "he  has 
a  most  princely  air,  and  there  is  such  an  overflowing  of  soul 
towards  his  country  when  he  speaks  of  it,  that  such  love  can 
spring  from  no  other  than  the  royal  heart  created  to  foster 
and  to  bless  it." 

"  But  is  he  not  too  young  ?  "  inquired  Helen.  "  I  have  heard 
my  father  say  that  Bruce,  Lord  of  Armandale,  the  opponent  of 
Baliol  for  the  crown,  was  much  his  senior  ;  and  that  his  son,  the 
Earl  of  Carrick,  must  be  now  fifty  years  of  age.  This  knight^ 
if  I  am  to  judge  of  looks,  cannot  be  twenty-five." 

"  True/'  answered  the  hermit ;  "  and  yet  he  may  be  a  Bruce, 
for  it  is  neither  of  the  two  you  have  mentioned  that  I  mean ; 
but  the  grandson  of  the  one,  and  the  son  of  the  other.  You 
may  see  by  this  silver  beard,  lady,  that  the  winter  of  my  life  is 
far  spent.  The  elder  Bruce,  Robert,  Lord  of  Annandale,  was  my 
contemporary ;  we  were  boys  together  and  educated  at  the 
same  college  in  Icolinkill.  He  was  brave  and  passed  his  man- 
hood in  visiting  different  courts ;  at  last,  marrying  a  lady  of  the 
princely  house  of  Clare,  he  took  her  to  -France,  and  confided 
his  only  son  to  be  brought  up  under  the  renowned  Saint  Lewis  ; 
which  young  Robert  took  the  cross  while  quite  a  youth,  and 
carrying  the  banner  of  the  holy  King  of  France  to  the  plains  of 
Palestine,  covered  himself  with  glory.  In  storming  a  Saracen 
fortress  l  he  rescued  the  person  of  Prince  Edward  of  England. 
The  horrible  tyrant  who  now  tramples  on  all  laws,  human  and 
divine,  was  then  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  defending  the  cause  of 
Christianity.  Think  on  that,  sweet  lady,  and  marvel  at  the 
changing  power  of  ambition. 

"  From  that  hour  a  strict  friendship  subsisted  between  the 
two  young  crusaders  ;  and  when  Edward  mounted  the  throne  of 
England,  it  being  then  the  ally  of  Scotland,  the  old  Earl  of 
Annandale,  to  please  his  brave  son,  took  up  his  residence  at  the 
English  court.  When  the  male  issue  of  our  King  David  failed 
in  the  untimely  death  of  Alexander  III.,  then  came  the  con- 
tention between  Bruce  and  Baliol  for  the  vacant  crown.  Our 
most  venerable  chiefs,  the  guardians  of  our  laws,  and  the  wit- 
nesses of  the  parliamentary  settlement  made  on  the  house  of 
Bruce  during  the  reign  of  the  late  king,  all  declared  for  Lord 
Annandale.  He  was  not  only  the  male  heir  in  propinquity  of 
blood,  but  his  experienced  years  and  known  virtues  excited  all 
true  Scots  to  place  him  on  the  throne. 

"  Meanwhile  Edward,  forgetting  friendship  to  his  friend  and 

1  St.  Jean  d'Acre,  the  Ekron  of  the  Old  Testament,  where  the  idol  Dagon  fell  before 
the  ark  of  Israel,  and  where  in  subsequent  times  St.  Paul  preached. 


THE    HERMIT'S    CELL.  121 

fidelity  to  a  faithful  ally,  was  undermining  the  interest  of  Bruce 
and  the  peace  of  the  kingdom.  Inferior  rivals  to  our  favorite 
prince  were  soon  discountenanced ;  but  by  covert  ways,  with 
bribes  and  promises,  the  King  of  England  raised  such  an  oppo- 
sition on  the  side  of  Baliol  as  threatened  a  civil  war.  Secure 
in  his  right,  and  averse  to  plunge  his  country  in  blood,  Bruce 
easily  fell  in  with  a  proposal  insidiously  hinted  to  him  by  one 
of  Edward's  creatures,  — '  to  require  that  monarch  to  be  umpire 
between  him  and  Baliol.'  Then  it  was  that  Edward,  after  solic- 
iting the  requisition  as  an  honor  to  be  conferred  on  him,  de- 
clared it  was  his  right  as  supreme  Lord  of  Scotland.  The  Earl 
of  Annandale  refused  to  acknowledge  this  assumption.  Baliol 
bowed  to  it;  and  for  such  obedience  the  unrighteous  judge  gave 
him  the  crown.  Bruce  absolutely  refused  to  acknowledge  the 
justice  of  this  decision  ;  and  to  avoid  the  power  of  the  king,  who 
had  betrayed  his  rights,  and  the  jealousy  of  the  other  who  had 
usurped  them,  he  immediately  left  the  scene  of  action,  going 
over  seas  to  join  his  son,  who  had  been  cajoled  away  to  Paris. 
But,  alas !  he  died  on  the  road  of  a  broken  heart. 

"  When  his  son  Robert  (who  was  Earl  of  Carrick  in  right  of 
his  wife)  returned  to  Britain,  he,  like  his  father,  disdained  to 
acknowledge  Baliol  as  king.  But  being  more  incensed  at  his 
successful  rival  than  at  the  treachery  of  his  false  friend,  Ed- 
ward, he  believed  his  glossing  speeches,  and  —  by  what  infatu- 
ation I  cannot  tell  —  established  his  residence  at  that  monarch's 
court.  This  forgetfulness  of  his  royal  blood  and  of  the  inde- 
pendency of  Scotland  has  nearly  obliterated  him  from  every 
Scottish  heart,  for  when  we  look  at  Bruce  the  courtier  we 
cease  to  remember  Bruce  the  descendant  of  St.  David,  — 
Bruce  the  valiant  Knight  of  the  Cross,  who  bled  for  true  liberty 
before  the  walls  of  Jerusalem. 

"  His  eldest  son  may  be  now  about  the  age  of  the  young  knight 
who  has  just  left  us  ;  and  when  I  look  on  his  royal  port,  and 
listen  to  the  patriotic  fervors  of  his  soul,  I  cannot  but  think 
that  the  spirit  of  his  noble  grandsire  has  revived  in  his  breast , 
and  that,  leaving  his  indolent  father  to  the  vassal  luxuries  of 
Edward's  palace,  he  is  come  hither  in  secret  to  arouse  Scotland 
and  to  assert  his  claim/'7 

"  It  is  very  likely,"  rejoined  Helen,  deeply  sighing ;  "  and 
may  Heaven  reward  his  virtue  with  the  crown  of  his  ancestors  ! " 

"  To  that  end,"  replied  the  hermit, "  shall  my  hands  be  lifted 
up  in  prayer  day  and  night.  May  I,  O  gracious  Power  !  "  cried 
he,  looking  upwards  and  pressing  the  cross  to  his  breast,  "  live 
but  to  see  that  hero  victorious  and  Scotland  free ;  and  then  '  let 


122  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  since  mine  eyes  will  have  seen  her 
salvation.'  " 

"  Her  salvation,  father  ?  "  said  Helen,  timidly.  "  Is  not  that 
too  sacred  a  word  to  apply  to  anything,  however  dear,  that  re- 
lates to  earth  ?  " 

She  blushed  as  she  spoke;  and  fearful  of  having  too  daringly- 
objected,  looked  down  as  she  awaited  his  answer.  The  hermit 
observed  her  attentively,  and,  with  a  benign  smile,  replied, 
"Earth  and  heaven  are  the  work  of  one  Creator.  He  careth 
alike  for  angel  and  for  man  ;  and  therefore  nothing  that  he  has 
made  is  too  mean  to  be  the  object  of  his  salvation.  The  word 
is  comprehensive  :  in  one  sense  it  may  signify  our  redemption 
from  sin  and  death  by  the  coming  of  the  Lord  of  life  into  this 
world,  and  in  another,  it  intimates  the  different  means  by  which 
Providence  decrees  the  ultimate  happiness  of  men.  Happiness 
can  only  be  found  in  virtue ;  virtue  cannot  exist  without  lib- 
erty ;  and  the  seat  of  liberty  is  good  laws.  Hence,  when  Scot- 
land is  again  made  free,  the  bonds  of  the  tyrant  who  corrupts 
her  principles  with  temptations  or  compels  her  to  iniquity  by 
threats  are  broken.  Again  the  honest  peasant  may  cultivate 
his  lands  in  security,  the  liberal  hand  feed  the  hungry,  and 
industry  spread  smiling  plenty  through  all  ranks ;  every  man 
to  whom  his  Maker  hath  given  talents,  let  them  be  one  or  five, 
may  apply  them  to  their  use  ;  and  by  eating  the  bread  of  peace- 
ful labor,  rear  families  to  virtuous  action  and  the  worship  of 
God.  The  nobles,  meanwhile,  looking  alone  to  the  legislation 
of  Heaven,  and  to  the  laws  of  Scotland,  which  alike  demand 
justice  and  mercy  from  all,  will  live  the  fathers  of  their  country, 
teaching  her  brave  sons  that  the  only  homage  which  does  not 
debase  a  man  is  that  which  he  pays  to  virtue  and  to  God. 

"  This  is  to  be  free ;  this  is  to  be  virtuous  ;  this  is  to  be  happy  ; 
this  is  to  live  the  life  of  righteousness,  and  to  die  in  the  hope  of 
immortal  glory.  Say,  then,  dear  daughter,  if,  in  praying  for  the 
liberty  of  Scotland,  I  said  too  much  in  calling  it  her  salvation  ?  " 

"  Forgive  me,  father,'7  cried  Helen,  overcome  with  shame  at 
having  questioned  him. 

"Forgive  you  what  ?  "  returned  he.  "  I  love  the  holy  zeal 
which  is  jealous  of  allowing  objects,  dear  even  to  your  wishes, 
to  encroach  on  the  sanctuary  of  heaven.  Be  ever  thus  meek, 
child  of  the  Church,  and  no  human  idol  will  be  able  to  usurp 
that  part  of  your  virgin  heart  which  belongs  to  God." 

Helen  blushed.  "  My  heart,  reverend  father,"  returned  she, 
"  has  but  one  wish,  —  the  liberty  of  Scotland ;  and,  with  that, 
the  safety  of  my  father  and  his  brave  deliverers." 


THE    HERMIT'S    CELL.  128 

"Sir  William  Wallace  I  never  have  seen,"  rejoined  the 
hermit ;  "  but  when  he  was  quite  a  youth  I  heard  of  his 
graceful  victories  in  the  mimic  war  of  the  jousts  at  Berwick, 
when  Edward  first  marched  into  this  country  under  the  mask 
of  friendship.  From  what  you  have  said,  I  do  not  doubt  his 
being  a  worthy  supporter  of  Bruce.  However,  dear  daughter, 
as  it  is  only  a  suspicion  of  mine  that  this  knight  is  that  young 
prince,  for  his  safety  and  for  the  sake  of  the  cause  we  must 
not  let  that  name  escape  our  lips ;  no,  not  even  to  your  rela- 
tions when  you  rejoin  them,  nor  to  the  youth  whom  his  hu- 
manity put  under  my  protection.  Till  he  reveals  his  own 
secret,  for  us  to  divulge  it  would  be  folly  and  dishonor." 

Helen  bowed  acquiescence,  and  the  hermit  proceeded  to 
inform  her  who  the  youth  was  whom  the  stranger  had  left  to 
be  her  page. . 

In  addition  to  what  the  knight  had  himself  told  her  of 
Walter  Hay,  the  unfortunate  shepherd  boy  of  the  ruined  hut, 
her  venerable  host  narrated  that  the  young  warrior  having 
quitted  the  holy  cell  after  his  first  appearance  there,  soon 
returned  with  the  wounded  youth  whom  he  had  found.  He 
committed  him  to  the  care  oi  the  hermit,  promising  to  revisit 
him  in  his  way  from  the  south,  and  take  the  recovered  Walter 
under  his  own  protection.  "  He  then  left  us,"  continued  the 
old  man,  "  but  soon  reappeared  with  you ;  showing,  in  the 
strongest  language;  that  he  who  in  spite  of  every  danger 
succors  the  sons  and  daughters  of  violated  Scotland  is  pro- 
claimed by  the  Spirit  of  heaven  to  be  her  future  deliverer  and 
king." 

As  he  ended  speaking,  he  rose,  and,  taking  Helen  by  the 
hand,  led  her  into  an  Dinner  excavation  of  the  rock,  where  a 
bed  of  dried  leaves  lay  on  the  ground.  "  Here,  gentle  lady," 
said  he,  "  I  leave  you  to  repose.  In  the  evening  I  expect  a 
lay  brother  from  St.  Oran's  monastery,  and  he  will  be  your 
messenger  to  the  friends  you  may  wish  to  rejoin.  At  present 
may  gentlest  seraphs  guard  your  slumbers  !  " 

Helen,  fatigued  in  spirit  and  in  body,  thanked  the  good 
hermit  for  his  care,  and,  bowing  to  his  blessing,  he  left  her 
to  repose. 


124  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

CARTLANE    CRAIGS    AND    GLENFINLASS. 

GUIDED  by  Ker,  Murray  led  his  followers  over  the  Lanark 
hills  by  the  most  untrodden  paths,  and  hence  avoided  even 
the  sight  of  a  Southron  soldier. 

Cheered  by  so  favorable  a  commencement  of  their  expedi- 
tion, they  even  felt  no  dismay  when,  at  the  gloom  of  evening, 
Ker  descried  a  body  of  armed  men  at  a  distance,  sitting  round 
a  fire  at  the  foot  of  a  beetling  rock  which  guards  the  western 
entrance  to  the  Cartlane  craigs.  Murray  ordered  his  men  to 
proceed  under  covert  of  the  bushes ;  and  then  making  the 
signal  (concerted  in  case  of  such  dilemma),  they  struck  their 
iron  crows  into  the  interstices  of  the  cliff,  and  catching  at  the 
branches  which  grew  out  of  its  precipitous  side,  with  much 
exertion  but  in  perfect  silence  at  last  gained  the  summit. 
That  effected,  they  pursued  their  way  with  the  same  caution, 
till,  after  a  long  march  and  without  encountering  a  human 
being,  they  reached  the  base  of  the  huge  rock  which  Wallace 
had  made  his  fortress. 

Ker,  who  expected  to  find  it  surrounded  by  an  English 
army,  was  amazed  at  the  death-like  solitude.  "  The  place  is 
deserted,"  cried  he.  "  My  brave  friend,  compelled  by  the  ex- 
tremity of  his  little  garrison,  has  been  obliged  to  surrender." 

"  We  will  ascend  and  see,"  was  Murray's  answer. 

Ker  led  round  the  rock  to  the  most  accessible  point,  and 
mounting  by  the  projecting  stones,  with  some  difficulty  gained 
the  top.  Silence  pervaded  every  part ;  and  the  rugged  cavities 
at  the  summit,  which  had  formed  the  temporary  quarters  of 
his  comrades,  were  lonely.  On  entering  the  recess,  where 
Wallace  used  to  seek  a  few  minutes'  slumber,  the  moon,  which 
shone  full  into  the  cave,  discovered  something  bright  lying  in 
a  distant  corner.  Ker  hastily  approached  it;  recollecting 
what  Wallace  had  told  him,  that  if  during  his  absence  he 
could  find  means  of  escape,  he  would  leave  some  weapon  as  a 
sign:  a  dagger,  if  necessity  drove  him  to  the  south  point, 
where  he  must  fight  his  wray  through  the  valley;  and  an 
arrow,  if  he  could  effect  it  without  observation,  by  the  north, 
as  he  should  then  seek  an  asylum  for  his  exhausted  followers 
in  the  far-off  wilds  of  Glenfmlass. 

It  was  the  iron  head  of  an  arrow  which  the  moon  had 
silvered;  and  Ker  catching  it  up  with  a  gladdened  counte- 


CARTLANE    CRAIGS    AND    GLENFINLASS.       125 

nance  exclaimed,  "He  is  safe!  this  calls  us  to  Glenfinlass." 
He  then  explained  to  Murray  what  had  been  the  arrangement 
of  Wallace  respecting  this  sign,  and  without  hesitation  the 
young  lord  decided  to  follow  him  up  that  track. 

Turning  towards  the  northern  part  of  the  cliff,  they  came 
to  a  spot  beneath  which  had  been  the  strongest  guard  of  the 
enemy,  but  now,  like  the  rest,  it  was  entirely  abandoned.  A 
narrow  winding  path  led  from  this  rocky  platform  to  a  fall  of 
water,  roaring  and  rushing  by  the  mouth  of  a  large  cavern. 
After  they  had  descended  the  main  craig,  they  clambered  over 
the  top  of  this  cave,  and  entering  upon  another  sweep  of 
rugged  hills,  commenced  a  rapid  march. 

Traversing  the  lower  part  of  Stirlingshire,  they  crossed 
Graham's  Dyke,1  and  pursuing  their  course  westward,  left 
Stirling  castle  far  to  the  right.  They  ascended  the  Ochil 
hills,  and  proceeding  along  the  wooded  heights  which  over- 
hang the  banks  of  Teith,  forded  that  river,  and  entered  at 
once  into  the  broad  valley  which  opened  to  them  a  distant 
view  of  Ben  Lomond  and  Ben  Ledi. 

"  There,"  exclaimed  Ker,  extending  his  hand  towards  the 
cloud-capped  Ledi,  "beneath  the  shadow  of  that  mountain 
we  shall  find  the  light  of  Scotland,  our  dear  master  in 
arms ! " 

At  this  intimation,  the  wearied  Murrays  — like  seamen 
long  harassed  on  a  tempestuous  ocean  at  sight  of  a  port  — 
uttered  a  shout  of  joy,  and  hastening  forward  with  renovated 
strength,  met  a  foaming  river  in  their  path.  Despising  all 
obstacles,  they  rushed  in,  and,  buffeting  the  waves,  soon  found 
a  firm  footing  on  the  opposite  shore.  The  sun  shone  cheerily 
above  their  heads,  illuminating  the  umbrageous  sides  of  the 
mountains  with  a  dewy  splendor,  while  Ben  Ledi,  the  standard 
of  their  hope,  seemed  to  wave  them  on,  as  the  white  clouds 
streamed  from  its  summit,  or,  rolling  down  its  dark  sides, 
floated  in  strange  visionary  shapes  over  the  lakes  beneath. 

When  the  little  troop  halted  on  the  shore  of  Loch  Vena- 
ohoir,  the  mists  which  had  lingered  on  the  brow  of  Ledi 
slowly  descended  into  the  valley,  and  covering  the  mouth  of 
the  pass  that  led  from  the  loch,  seemed  to  shut  them  at  once 
between  the  mountain  and  that  world  of  waters.  Ker,  who 
had  never  been  in  these  tracks  before,  wondered  at  their 

*  The  great  wall  of  Severus,  which  runs  between  Abercorn  and  Kirkpatrick,  being 
attacked  by  the  Scots  at  the  time  the  Romans  abandoned  Britain,  a  huge  breach  was 
made  in  it  by  Graham  (or  Greame),  the  uncle  of  the  young  King  of  Scots.  By  this 
achievement  he  conquered  the  whole  of  the  country  as  far  as  the  Cheviots;  and  the  wall 
of  Severus  has  since  been  called  Graham's  Dyke.  —  (1809.) 


126  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

sublimity,  and  became  alarmed,  lest  they  should  lose  their 
way  amid  infinite  windings.  But  Murray,  who  remembered 
having  once  explored  them  with  his  father,  led  promptly  for- 
ward by  a  steep  rough  road  in  the  side  of  the  mountain.  As 
they  clung  by  the  slippery  rocks  which  overhung  the  lake,  its 
mists  dissolved  into  a  heavy  shower,  and  by  degrees  clearing 
away,  discovered  the  shining  heads  of  Ben  Lomond  and  Ben 
Chochan. 

The  party  soon  entered  a  precipitous  labyrinth  of  craigs ; 
and  passing  onward,  gradually  descended  amid  pouring  tor- 
rents and  gaping  chasms  overlaced  with  branching  trees,  till 
the  augmented  roar  of  waters  intimated  to  Murray  they  drew 
near  the  great  fall  of  Glenfinlass.  The  river,  though  rushing 
on  its  course  with  the  noise  of  thunder,  was  scarcely  discerned 
through  the  thick  forest  which  groaned  over  its  waves.  Here 
towered  a  host  of  stately  pines ;  and  there,  the  lofty  beeches, 
birches,  and  mountain-oak  bending  over  the  flood,  interwove 
their  giant  arms,  forming  an  arch  so  impenetrable  that  while 
the  sun  brightened  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  all  beneath  lay 
in  deepest  midnight. 

The  awful  entrance  to  this  sublime  valley  struck  the  whole 
party  with  a  feeling  that  made  them  pause.  It  seemed  as  if 
to  these  sacred  solitudes,  hidden  in  the  very  bosom  of  Scot- 
land, no  hostile  foot  dared  intrude.  Murray  looked  at  Ker. 
« We  go,  my  friend,  to  arouse  the  genius  of  our  country  ! 
Here  are  the  native  fastnesses  of  Scotland,  and  from  this 
pass  the  spirit  will  issue  that  is  to  bid  her  enslaved  sons  and 
daughters  be  free." 

They  entered,  and  with  beating  hearts  pursued  their  way 
along  the  western  border  of  Loch  Lubnaig,  till  the  royal 
heights  of  Craignacoheilg  showed  their  summits,  covered  with 
heath  and  many  an  ivied  turret.  The  forest,  stretching  far 
over  the  valley,  lost  its  high  trees  in  the  shadows  of  the  sur- 
rounding mountains,  and  told  them  they  were  now  in  the 
centre  of  Glenfinlass. 

Ker  put  his  bugle  to  his  lips  and  sounded  the  pibroch  of 
Ellerslie.  A  thousand  echoes  returned  the  notes  ;  and  after  a 
pause,  which  allowed  their  last  response  to  die  away,  the  air 
was  answered  by  a  horn  from  the  heights  of  Craignacoheilg. 
An  armed  man  then  appeared  on  the  rock,  leaning  forwards. 
Ker  drew  near,  and  taking  off  his  bonnet,  called  aloud : 
"  Stephen,  it  is  William  Ker  who  speaks.  I  come  with  the 
Lord  Andrew  Murray,  of  Bothwell,  to  the  support  of  our  com- 
mander, Sir  William  Wallace.'' 


CARTLA&E    CRAIGS   AND    GLENFINLASS.       127 

At  these  words  Stephen  placed  his  bugle  to  his  mouth,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  rock  was  covered  with  the  members  oi 
its  little  garrison.  Women  and  children  appeared,  shouting 
with  joy  j  and  the  men,  descending  the  side  next  the  glen, 
hastened  to  bid  their  comrade  welcome.  One  advanced 
towards  Murray,  whom  he  instantly  recognized  to  be  Sir 
Roger  Kirkpatrick,  of  Torthorald.  The  chiefs  saluted  each 
other,  and  Lord  Andrew  pointed  to  his  men.  "I  have 
brought,"  said  he,  "  these  few  brave  fellows  to  the  aid  of  Sir 
William  Wallace.  They  should  have  been  more  but  for  new 
events  of  Southron  outrage.  Yet  I  am  impatient  to  lead  them 
to  the  presence  of  my  uncle's  preserver." 

Kirkpatrick's  answer  disappointed  the  eager  spirit  of  the 
young  warrior.  "  I  am  sorry,  brave  Murray,  that  you  have  no 
better  knight  to  receive  you  than  myself.  I  and  the  gallant 
chief  have  not  yet  met ;  but  I  am  in  arms  for  him,  and  the 
hour  of  retribution  for  all  our  injuries,  I  trust,  is  at  hand." 

"  But  where  is  Sir  William  Wallace  ?  "  demanded  Murray. 

"  Gone  towards  the  Forth,  to  rouse  that  part  of  sleeping 
Scotland.  If  all  he  meet  have  my  spirit,  they  will  not  require 
a  second  call.  Now  is  the  time  to  aim  the  blow.  I  shall  ever 
give  thanks  to  the  accident  which  brought  me  the  welcome 
news  that  an  arm  is  raised  to  strike  it  home." 

As  he  spoke  he  led  Murray  to  the  rampart-like  cliffs  which 
crown  the  summit  of  Craignacoheilg.  In  the  midst  stood  a 
tower  which  had  once  been  a  favorite  hunting-lodge  of  the 
great  King  Fergus.  There  Kirkpatrick  joyfully  greeted  his 
guest  a  second  time.  "This,"  said  he,  "is  the  far-famed  lodge 
of  the  three  kings.  Here  did  our  lion,  Fergus,  attended  by  his 
royal  allies,  Durstus  the  Pict,  and  Dionethus  the  Briton,  spread 
his  board  during  their  huntings  in  Glenfinlass.1  And  here, 
eight  hundred  years  ago,  did  the  same  heroic  prince  form  the 
plans  which  saved  his  kingdom  from  a  foreign  yoke.  On  the 
same  spot  we  will  lay  ours,  and  in  their  completion  rescue 
Scotland  from  a  tryanny  more  intolerable  than  that  which 
menaced  him.  Yes,  Murray,  there  is  not  a  stone  in  this  build- 
ing that  does  not  call  aloud  to  us  to  draw  the  sword  and  hold 
it  unsheathed  till  our  country  be  free." 

"  And  by  the  ghost  of  that  same  Fergus  I  swear,"  exclaimed 
Murray,  "  that  my  honest  claymore  shall  never  shroud  its  head 
while  an  invader  be  left  alive  in  Scotland  ! " 

Kirkpatrick  caught  him  in  his  arms.      "  Brave  son  of  the 

*  This  is  the  tradition  respecting  Craignacoheilg.  Glenfinlaas  was  the  favorite  chaw 
of  the  Scottish  monarchs.  —  (1809.) 


128  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

noble  Bothwell,  thou  art  after  mine  own  heart!  The  blow 
which  the  dastard  Cressingham  durst  aim  at  a  Scottish  chief 
still  smarts  upon  my  cheek,  and  rivers  of  his  countrymen's 
blood  shall  wash  out  the  stain.  After  I  had  been  persuaded  by 
his  serpent  eloquence  to  swear  fealty  to  Edward  on  the  defeat 
at  Dunbar,  I  vainly  thought  that  Scotland  had  only  changed  a 
weak  and  unfortunate  prince  for  a  wise  and  victorious  king ; 
but  when  in  the  courts  of  Stirling  I  heard  Cressingham  pro- 
pose to  the  barons  north  of  the  dyke  that  they  should  give 
their  strongest  castles  into  English  hands  ;  when  I  opposed  the 
measure  with  all  the  indignation  of  a  Scotavho  saw  himself  be- 
trayed, he  first  tried  to  overturn  my  arguments,  and  finding 
that  impossible,  while  I  repeated  them  with  redoubled  force, 
he  struck  me  !  —  Powers  of  earth  and  heaven,  what  was  then 
the  tempest  of  my  soul !  —  I  drew  my  sword  —  I  would  have 
laid  him  dead  at  my  feet  had  not  my  obsequious  countrymen 
held  my  arm  and  dragged  me  from  the  apartment. 

"  Covered  with  dishonor  by  a  blow  I  could  not  avenge,  I  fled 
to  my  brother-in-law,  Sir  John  Scott,  of  Loch  Doine.  With 
him  I  buried  my  injury  from  the  world ;  but  it  lived  in  m> 
heart ;  it  haunted  me  day  and  night,  calling  for  revenge. 

"In  such  an  hour,  how  did  I  receive  the  tidings  that  Sir 
William  Wallace  was  in  arms  against  the  tyrant !  It  was  the 
voice  of  retribution  calling  me  to  peace  of  mind.  Even  my 
bed-ridden  kinsman  partook  my  emotions,  and  with  his  zeal- 
ous concurrence  I  led  a  band  of  his  hardiest  clansmen  to 
reenforce  the  brave  men  of  Lanark  on  this  rock. 

"  Two  days  I  have  now  been  here  awaiting  in  anxious 
impatience  the  arrival  of  Wallace.  Yes  ;  we  will  mingle  our 
injured  souls  together.  He  has  made  one  offering;  I  must 
make  another.  We  shall  set  forth  to  Stirling,  and  there,  in 
the  very  heart  of  his  den,  I  will  sacrifice  the  tiger  Cressingham 
to  the  vengeance  of  our  wrongs." 

"  But  what,  my  brave  friend/'  asked  Murray,  "  are  the 
forces  you  deem  sufficient  for  so  great  an  enterprise  ?  How 
many  fighting  men  may  be  counted  of  Wallace's  own  company, 
besides  your  own  ?  " 

"  We  have  here  about  a  hundred,"  replied  Kirkpatrick,  "  in- 
cluding yours." 

"  How  inadequate  to  storm  so  formidable  a  place  as  Stirling 
castle  ! "  returned  Murray.  "  Having,  indeed,  passed  the 
Rubicon,  we  must  go  forward  ;  but  resolution,  not  rashness, 
should  be  the  principle  of  our  actions.  And  my  opinion  is, 
that  a  few  minor  advantages  obtained,  our  countrymen  would 


CARTLANE    CRAIGS    AND    GLENFINLASS.       129 

flock  to  our  standard,  the  enemy  would  be  intimidated,  and 
we  should  carry  thousands,  instead  of  hundreds,  before  the 
walls  of  Stirling.  To  attempt  it  now  would  invite  defeat, 
and  pluck  upon  us  the  ruin  of  our  entire  project." 

"  You  are  right,  young  man,"  cried  Kirkpatrick ;  "  my  gray 
head,  rendered  impetuous  by  insult,  did  not  pause  on  the  blind 
temerity  of  my  scheme.  I  would  rather  for  years  watch  the 
opportunity  of  taking  a  single  revenge  than  not  accomplish  it 
at  last.  Oh,  I  would  rather  waste  all  my  life  in  these  solitary 
wilds,  and  know  that  at  the  close  of  it  I  should  see  the  blood 
of  Cressingham  on  these  hands,  than  live  a  prince  and  die 
unrevenged ! " 

Stephen  and  Ker  now  entered;  the  latter  paid  his  respects 
to  Sir  Roger,  and  the  former  informed  Murray  that,  having 
disposed  his  present  followers  with  those  who  had  arrived 
before,  he  was  come  to  lead  their  lord  to  some  refreshment  in 
the  banqueting-room  of  the  tower.  "  What ! "  cried  Murray, 
full  of  glad  amazement,  "  is  it  possible  that  my  cousin's  faith- 
ful band  has  reached  its  destination  ?  None  other  belonging 
to  Bothwell  castle  had  any  chance  of  escaping  its  jailer's 
hands." 

Kirkpatrick  interrupted  Stephen's  reply  by  saying  that  while 
their  guests  were  at  the  board  he  would  watch  the  arrival  of 
certain  expresses  from  two  brave  Drummonds,  each  of  whom 
were  to  send  him  a  hundred  men.  "  So,  my  good  Lord  Andrew," 
cried  he,  striking  him  on  the  shoulder,  "  shall  the  snow-launch 
gather  that  is  to  fall  on  Edward  to  his  destruction." 

Murray  heartily  shared  his  zeal,  and  bidding  him  a  short 
adieu,  followed  Stephen  and  Ker  into  the  hall.  A  haunch  of 
venison  of  G-lenfmlass  smoked  on  the  board,  and  goblets  of 
wine  from  the  bounteous  cellars  of  Sir  John  Scott  brightened 
the  hopes  which  flowed  in  every  heart. 

While  the  young  chieftains  were  recruiting  their  exhausted 
strength,  Stephen  sat  at  the  table  to  satisfy  the  anxiety  of 
Murray  to  know  how  the  detatchment  from  Bothwell  had  come 
to  Craignacoheilg,  and  by  what  fortunate  occurrence  or  signal 
act  of  bravery  Wallace  could  have  escaped  with  his  whole  train 
from  the  foe-surrounded  Cartlane  craigs. 

"  Heaven  smiled  on  us,"  replied  Stephen.  "  The  very  even- 
ing of  the  day  on  which  Ker  left  us  there  was  a  carousal  in  the 
English  camp.  We  heard  the  sound  of  the  song  and  riot,  and 
of  many  an  insult  cast  upon  our*  besieged  selves.  But  about 
an  hour  after  sunset  the  noise  sunk  by  degrees  :  a  no  insuffi- 
cient hint  that  the  revellers,  overcome  by  excess,  had  fallen 

VOL.  I. -9 


130  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

asleep.  At  this  very  time,  owing  to  the  heat  of  the  day,  so 
great  a  vapor  had  been  exhaled  from  the  lake  beneath  that 
the  whole  of  the  northern  side  of  the  fortress  cliff  was  covered 
with  a  mist  so  exceedingly  thick  we  could  not  discern  each 
other  at  a  foot's  distance.  '  Now  is  the  moment ! '  said  our 
gallant  leader;  '  the  enemy  are  stupefied  with  wine  ;  the  rock  is 
clothed  in  a  veil  —  it  is  the  shield  of  God  that  is  held  before 
us  ;  under  its  shelter  let  us  pass  from  their  hands/ 

"He  called  us  together,  and  making  the  proper  dispositions, 
commanded  the  children  and  women  on  their  lives  to  keep 
silence.  He  then  led  us  to  the  top  of  the  northern  cliff ;  it 
overhung  an  obscure  cave  which  he  knew  opened  at  its  ex- 
tremity. By  the  assistance  of  a  rope  held  by  several  men,  our 
resolute  chief  (twisting  it  round  one  arm  to  steady  him,  and 
with  the  other  catching  by  the  projecting  stones  of  the  preci- 
pice) made  his  way  down  the  rock,  and  was  the  first  who  de- 
scended. He  stood  at  the  bottom,  enveloped  in  the  cloud 
which  shrouded  the  mountain,  till  all  the  men  of  the  first 
division  had  cleared  the  height ;  he  then  marshalled  them  with 
their  pikes  towards  the  foe,  in  case  of  an  alarm.  But  all  re- 
mained quiet  on  the  spot,  although  the  sound  of  voices,  both 
in  song  and  laughter,  intimated  that  the  utmost  precaution  was 
still  necessary,  as  a  wakeful  and  yet  revelling  part  of  the 
enemy  were  not  far  distant. 

"  Wallace  reascended  the  rock  half-way,  and  receiving  the 
children,  which  their  trembling  mothers  lowered  into  his  arms, 
he  handed  them  to  the  old  men,  who  carried  them  safely 
through  the  bushes  which  obscured  the  cave's  mouth.  The 
rest  of  our  little  garrison  soon  followed ;  then  our  sentinels, 
receiving  the  signal  that  all  were  safe,  drew  silently  from 
their  guard,  and  closed  our  march  through  the  cavern. 

"  This  effected,  we  blocked  up  its  egressing  mouth,  that, 
should  our  escape  be  discovered,  the  enemy  might  not  find  the 
direct  road  we  had  taken. 

"We  pursued*  our  course  without  stop  or  stay  till  we  reached 
the  hospitable  valleys  of  Stirlingshire.  There  some  kind  shep- 
herds gave  the  women  and  children  temporary  shelter;  and 
Wallace,  seeing  that  if  anything  were  to  be  done  for  Scotland, 
he  must  swell  his  host,  put  the  party  under  guidance,  giving 
me  orders  that  when  they  were  rested  I  should  march  them 
to  Glenfinlass,  here  to  await  his  return.  Selecting  ten  men, 
with  that  small  band  he  turned  towards  the  Forth,  hoping  to 
meet  some  valiant  friends  in  that  part  of  the  country  ready  to 
embrace  her  cause. 


CARTLANE    CRAIGS   AND    GLENFINLASS.       131 

"He  had  hardly  been  an  hour  departed  when  Dugald  ob- 
served a  procession  of  monks  descending  the  opposite  moun- 
tain. They  drew  near  and  halted  in  the  glen.  A  crowd  of 
women  from  the  neighboring  hills  had  followed  the  train,  and 
were  now  gathering  round  a  bier,  which  the  monks  set  down. 
I  know  not  by  what  happy  fortune  I  came  close  to  the  leader 
of  the  procession,  but  he  saw  something  in  my  old,  rough  feat- 
ures that  declared  me  an  honest  Scot.  '  Friend,'  whispered  he, 
'for  charity  conduct  us  to  some  safe  place  where  we  may 
withdraw  this  bier  from  the  sacrilegious  eye  of  curiosity.7 

"  I  made  no  hesitation,  but  desired  the  train  to  follow  me 
into  a  byre  belonging  to  the  good  shepherd  who  was  my  host. 
On  this  motion  the  common  people  went  away,  and  the 
monks  entered  the  place. 

"  When  the  travellers  threw  up  their  hoods,  which  as  mourn- 
ers they  had  worn  over  their  faces,  I  could  not  help  exclaim- 
ing, '  Alas,  for  the  glory  of  Scotland,  that  this  goodly  group  of 
stout  men  rather  wore  the  helmet  than  the  cowl ! '  — '  How/ 
asked  their  principal  (who  did  not  appear  to  have  seen  thirty 
years),  '  do  we  not  pray  for  the  glory  of  Scotland  ?  Such  is 
our  weapon/  — '  True,'  replied  I ;  /  but  while  Moses  prayed, 
Joshua  fought.  God  gives  the  means  of  glory,  that  they 
should  be  used.'  —  '  But  for  what,  old  veteran,'  said  the  monk, 
with  a  penetrating  look,  e  should  we  exchange  our  cowl  for  the 
helmet?  Knowest  thou  anything  of  the  Joshua  who  would 
lead  us  to  the  field  ?  '  There  was  something  in  the  young 
priest's  eyes  that  seemed  to  contradict  his  pacific  words ;  they 
flashed  an  impetuous  fire.  My  reply  was  short.  '  Are  you  a 
Scot  ?  ?  —  'I  am,  in  soul  and  in  arms.'  —  '  Then  knowest  thou 
not  the  chief  of  Ellerslie  ?  '  As  I  spoke,  for  I  stood  close  to 
the  bier,  I  perceived  the  pall  shake.  The  monk  answered  my 
last  question  with  an  exclamation  —  '  You  mean  Sir  William 
Wallace ! ' 

" '  Yes/  I  replied.  The  bier  shook  more  violently  at  these 
words,  and,  with  my  hair  bristling  from  my  head,  I  saw  the 
pall  hastily  thrown  oif,  and  a  beautiful  youth,  in  a  shroud, 
started  from  it,  crying  aloud,  'Then  is  our  pilgrimage  at  an 
end.  Lead  us  to  him.' 

"  The  monk  perceived  my  terror,  and  hastily  exclaimed, 
'  Fear  not ;  he  is  alive,  and  seeks  Sir  William  Wallace.  His 
pretended  death  was  a  stratagem  to  ensure  our  passage 
through  the  English  army,  for  we  are  soldiers  like  yourself.' 
As  he  spoke  he  opened  his  gray  habit  and  showed  me  the 
mailed  tartans  beneath." 


132  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  What,  then ! "  interrupted  Murray ;  "  those  monks  were  my 
faithful  clansmen?  " 

"  The  same,"  replied  Stephen.  "  I  assured  them  they  might 
now  resume  their  own  characters,  for  all  who  inhabited  the 
valley  we  were  then  in  were  true  though  poor  and  aged  Scots. 
The  young  had  long  been  drafted  by  Edward's  agents  to  fight 
his  battles  abroad. 

" '  Ah  ! '  interrupted  the  shrouded  youth,  f  are  we  a  people 
that  can  die  for  the  honor  of  this  usurper,  and  are  we  ignorant 
how  to  do  it  for  our  country  ?  Lead  us,  soldier  of  Wallace/ 
cried  he,  stepping  resolutely  on  the  ground,  — '  lead  us  to  your 
brave  master,  and  tell  him  that  a  few  determined  men  are 
come  to  shed  their  blood  for  him  and  Scotland/ 

"  This  astonishing  youth  (for  he  did  not  appear  to  be  more 
than  fifteen)  stood  before  me  in  his  robes  of  death,  like  the 
spirit  of  some  bright-haired  son  of  Eingal.  I  looked  on  him 
with  admiration,  and  explaining  our  situation,  told  him 
whither  Wallace  was  gone,  and  of  our  destination  to  await 
him  in  the  forest  of  Glenfinlass. 

"While  your  brave  clansmen  were  refreshing  themselves, 
we  learnt  from  Kenneth,  their  conductor,  that  the  troop  left 
Both  well  under  expectation  of  your  soon  following  them.  They 
had  not  proceeded  far  before  their  scouts  perceived  the  outpost 
of  the  English  which  surrounded  Cartlane  craigs,  and  to  avoid 
this  danger  they  took  a  circuitous  path,  in  hope  of  finding  some 
unguarded  entrance.  They  reached  the  convent  of  St.  Columba, 
at  the  western  side  of  the  craigs.  Kenneth  knew  the  abbot,  and 
entering  it  under  cover  of  the  night,  obtained  permission  for 
his  men  to  rest  there.  The  youth,  now  their  companion,  was  a 
student  in  the  church.  He  had  been  sent  thither  by  his  mother, 
a  pious  lady,  in  the  hope  that,  as  he  is  of  a  very  gentle  nature, 
he  would  attach  himself  to  the  sacred  tonsure.  But  courage  often 
springs  with  most  strength  in  the  softest  frames. 

"  The  moment  this  youth  discovered  our  errand,  he  tried  every 
persuasive  to  prevail  on  the  abbot  to  permit  him  to  accompany 
us.  But  his  entreaties  were  vain,  till,  wrought  up  to  vehement 
anger,  he  threatened  that  if  he  were  prevented  joining  Sir 
William  Wallace,  he  would  take  the  earliest  opportunity  to  es- 
cape, and  commit  himself  to  the  peril  of  the  English  pikes. 

"  Seeing  him  determined,  the  abbot  granted  his  wish ;  i  and 
then  it  was,'  said  Kenneth,  'that  the  youth  seemed  inspired. 
It  was  no  longer  an  enthusiastic  boy  we  saw  before  us,  but  an 
angel,  gifted  with  wisdom  to  direct  and  enterprise  to  lead  us. 
It  was  he  pioposed  disguising  ourselves  as  a  funeral  procession ; 


CARTLANE    CRAIGS   AND    GLENFINLASS.       133 

and  while  he  painted  his  blooming  countenance  of  a  death-like 
paleness,  and  stretched  himself  on  this  bier,  the  abbot  sent  to 
the  English  army  to  request  permission  for  a  party  of  monks 
to  cross  the  craigs  to  the  cave  of  St.  Columba,  in  Stirlingshire, 
whither  they  carried  a  dead  brother  to  be  entombed.  Our  young 
leader  hoped  we  might  thus  find  an  opportunity  to  apprise  Wal- 
lace we  were  friends,  and  ready  to  swell  the  ranks  of  his  little 
armament. 

" '  On  our  entrance  into  the  passes  of  the  craigs/  continued 
Kenneth,  'the  English  captain  there  mentioned  the  fate  of 
Both  well  and  the  captivity  of  Lord  Mar,  and  with  very  little 
courtesy  to  sons  of  the  church  ordered  the  bier  to  be  opened, 
to  see  whether  it  did  really  contain  a  corpse,  or  provisions  for 
our  besieged  countrymen.  We  had  certainly  expected  this  in- 
vestigation, else  we  might  as  well  have  wrapped  the  trunk  of 
a  tree  in  the  shroud  we  carried  as  a  human  being.  We  knew 
that  the  superstitious  hatred  of  the  Southrons  would  not  allow 
them  to  touch  a  Scottish  corpse,  and  therefore  we  feared  no 
detection  from  the  eye's  examination  alone.  This  ceremony 
once  over,  we  expected  to  have  passed  on  without  further 
notice ;  and  in  that  case  the  youth  would  have  left  his  pall 
and  performed  the  remainder  of  his  journey  in  a  similar  dis- 
guise with  the  rest.  But  the  strict  watch  of  an  English  guard 
confined  him  wholly  to  the  bier.  In  hopes  of  at  last  evading 
this  vigilance,  on  pretence  of  a  vow  of  the  deceased  that  his 
bearers  should  perform  a  pilgrimage  throughout  the  craigs,  we 
traversed  them  in  every  direction;  and,  I  make  no  doubt, 
would  have  finally  wearied  out  our  guard  and  gained  our 
point  had  not  the  circumstance  transpired  of  Wallace's  escape. 

" '  How  he  had  effected  it,  his  enemies  could  not  guess.  Not 
a  man  of  the  besiegers  was  missing  from  his  post,  and  not  an 
avenue  appeared  by  which  they  could  trace  his  flight;  but 
gone  he  was,  and  with  him  his  whole  train.  On  this  disap- 
pointment the  Southron  captains  retired  to  Glasgow,  to  their 
commander-in-chief,  to  give  as  good  an  account  as  they  could 
of  so  disgraceful  a  termination  of  their  siege.  Dismayed  at 
this  intelligence,  our  peculiar  guard  hurried  us  into  Stirling- 
shire, and  left  us  at  the  other  side  of  the  mountain.  But  even 
then  we  were  not  free  to  release  our  charge,  for,  attracted  by 
our  procession,  the  country  people  followed  us  into  the  valley. 
Yet  had  we  not  met  with  you,  it  was  our  design  to  throw  off 
our  disguises  in  the  first  safe  place,  and,  divided  into  small 
bands,  have  severally  sought  Sir  William  Wallace." 

"  But  where/'  demanded  Murray,  who  had  listened  with  de- 


134  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

lighted  astonishment  to  this  recital,  "  where  is  this  admirable 
youth  ?  Why,  if  Kenneth  have  learnt  I  am  arrived,  does  he 
not  bring  him  to  receive  my  thanks  and  friendship  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  fault,"  returned  Stephen,  "  that  Kenneth  will  not 
approach  you  till  your  repast  is  over.  I  left  him  to  see  your 
followers  properly  refreshed.  And  for  the  youth,  he  seems 
timid  of  appearing  before  you.  Even  his  name  I  cannot  make 
known  to  you  till  he  reveals  it  himself;  none  know  him  here 
by  any  other  than  that  of  Edwin.  He  has,  however,  granted 
to-morrow  morning  for  the  interview." 

"  I  must  submit  to  his  determination,"  replied  Murray ;  "  but 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  guess  why  so  brave  a  creature  should  hesitate 
to  meet  me.  1  can  only  suppose  he  dislikes  the  idea  of  re- 
signing the  troop  he  has  so  well  conducted ;  and  if  so,  I  shall 
think  it  my  duty  to  yield  its  command  to  him." 

"Indeed  he  richly  deserves  it,"  returned  Stephen;  "for 
the  very  soul  of  Wallace  seemed  transfused  into  his  breast  as 
he  cheered  us  through  our  long  march  from  the  valley  to  Glen- 
finlass.  He  played  with  the  children,  heartened  up  the  women, 
and  when  the  men  were  weary,  and  lagged  by  the  way,  he  sat 
him  down  on  the  nearest  stones  and  sang  to  us  legends  of  our 
ancestors  till  every  nerve  was  braced  with  warlike  emulation, 
and  starting  up,  we  proceeded  onward  with  resolution  and 
even  gayety. 

"  When  we  arrived  at  Craignacoheilg,  as  the  women  were  in 
great  want  I  suddenly  recollected  that  I  had  an  old  friend  in 
the  neighborhood.  When  a  boy  I  had  been  the  playfellow  of 
Sir  John  Scott,  of  Loch  Doine,  and  though  I  understood  him  to 
be  now  an  invalid,  I  went  to  him.  While  I  told  my  tale,  his 
brother-in-law,  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  took  fire  at  my  relation 
and  declared  his  determination  to  accompany  me  to  Oraignaco- 
heilg ;  and  when  he  joined  our  band  on  the  summit  of  this  rock, 
he  took  the  children  in  his  arms,  and  while  he  held  their  hands 
in  his,  vehemently  addressed  their  mothers  :  '  Let  not  these 
hands  be  baptized  !  till  they  have  been  washed  in  the  blood  of 
our  foe.  Mercy  belongs  not  to  the  enemy,  now  doomed  to  fall 
beneath  their  fathers'  swords.' " 

u  It  is  indeed  a  deadly  contest,"  rejoined  Murray ;  "  for  evil 
has  been  the  example  of  that  foe.  How  many  innocent  bosoms 

1  It  was  a  custom  with  Scottish  chiefs  when  any  feud  existed  between  their  families 
to  leave  the  right  hand  of  their  children  untouched  by  the  holy  water  in  baptism,  as  a 
sign  that  no  law,  even  of  Heaven,  should  prevent  them  taking  revenge.  From  this  usage 
Kirkpatrick  declares  that  the  hands  of  the  children  in  Wallace's  train  shall  be  left  un- 
christened  till  they  have  taken  vengeance  on  their  oppressors;  an  unholy  custom,  only 
excusable  by  consideration  of  the  scriptural  darkness  in  which  the  generality  of  Chris- 
tian professors  were  then  held. —  (1809.) 


CRAIGNACOHEILG.  135 

have  their  steel  pierced  !  how  many  helpless  babes  have  their 
merciless  hands  dashed  against  the  stones  !  Oh,  ruthless  war, 
even  a  soldier  trembles  to  contemplate  thy  horrors  ! " 

"  Only  till  he  can  avenge  them,"  cried  a  stern  voice  entering 
the  apartment.  It  was  Kirkpatrick's,  and  he  proceeded :  "  When 
vengeance  is  in  our  grasp,  tell  me,  brave  Murray,  who  will  then 
tremble  ?  Dost  thou  not  feel  retribution  in  thine  own  hands  ? 
Dost  thou  not  feel  the  tyrant's  blood  at  thy  feet  ?  "  As  he 
spoke  he  looked  down  with  a  horrid  exultation  in  his  eyes, 
and  bursting  into  a  more  horrible  laugh,  struck  his  hand  sev- 
eral times  on  his  heart.  "  It  glads  me,  it  glads  me  !  I  shall 
see  it,  and  this  arm  shall  assist  to  pull  him  down." 

"His  power  in  Scotland  may  fall,"  returned  Murray,  "but 
Edward  will  be  too  careful  of  his  life  to  come  within  reach  of 
our  steel." 

"  That  may  be,"  rejoined  Kirkpatrick  ;  "but  my  dagger  shall 
yet  drink  the  blood  of  his  agents.  Cressingham  shall  feel  my 
foot  upon  his  neck.  Cressingham  shall  see  that  hand  torn  from 
its  wrist  which  durst  violate  the  unsullied  cheek  of  a  true 
Scotsman.  Murray,  I  cannot  live  unrevenged." 

As  he  spoke  he  quitted  the  apartment,  and  with  a  counte- 
nance of  such  tremendous  fate,  that  the  young  warrior  doubted 
it  was  human :  it  spoke  not  the  noble  resolves  of  patriotism, 
but  the  portentous  malignity  with  which  the  great  adversary  of 
mankind  determines  the  ruin  of  nations ;  it  seemed  to  wither 
the  grass  on  which  he  moved,  and  Murray  almost  thought  that 
the  clouds  darkened  as  the  gloomy  knight  issued  from  the 
porch  into  the  open  air. 

Kenneth  Mackenzie  joyfully  entered  the  hall.  Murray  re- 
ceived him  with  a  warm  embrace;  and,  soon  after,  Stephen 
Ireland  led  the  wearied  chieftain  to  a  bed  of  freshly  gathered 
heath,  prepared  for  him  in  an  upper  chamber. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

CRAIGNACOHEILG. 

SLEEP,  the  gentle  sister  of  that  awful  power  which  shrouds 
man  in  its  cold  bosom  and  bears  him  in  still  repose  to  the  bliss- 
ful wakefulness  of  eternal  life,  —  she,  sweet  restorer !  wraps 
him  in  her  balmly  embraces,  and  extracting  from  his  wearied 
limbs  the  effects  of  every  toil,  safely  relinquishes  the  refreshed 


136  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

slumberer  at  morn  to  the  new-born  vigor  that  is  her  gift  to 
the  gladsome  breezes  which  call  us  forth  to  labor  and  enjoy- 
ment. 

Such  was  the  rest  of  the  youthful  Murray  till  the  shrill 
notes  of  a  hundred  bugles  piercing  his  ear  made  him  start. 
He  listened ;  they  sounded  again.  The  morning  had  fully 
broke.  He  sprung  from  his  couch,  hurried  on  his  armor, 
and  snatching  up  his  lance  and  target,  issued  from  the  tower. 
Several  women  were  flying  past  the  gate.  On  seeing  him 
they  exclaimed,  "The  Lord  Wallace  is  arrived.  His  bugles 
have  sounded  —  our  husbands  are  returned  ! " 

Murray  followed  their  eager  footsteps,  and  reached  the 
edge  of  the  rock  just  as  the  brave  group  were  ascending.  A 
stranger  was  also  there,  who  from  his  extreme  youth  and 
elegance  he  judged  must  be  the  young  protector  of  his  clans- 
men; but  he  forbore  to  address  him  until  they  should  bo 
presented  to  each  other  by  Wallace  himself. 

It  was  indeed  the  same.  On  hearing  the  first  blast  of  the 
horn  the  youthful  chieftain  had  hastened  from  his  bed  of 
heath,  and  buckling  on  his  brigandine,  rushed  to  the  rock ; 
but  at  sight  of  the  noble  figure  which  first  gained  the  summit 
the  young  hero  fell  back,  an  indescribable  awe  checked  his 
steps,  and  he  stood  at  a  distance  while  Kirkpatrick  wel- 
comed the  chief  and  introduced  Lord  Andrew  Murray.  Wal- 
lace received  the  latter  with  a  glad  smile,  and  taking  him 
warmly  by  the  hand,  "  Gallant  Murray,"  said  he,  "  with  such 
assistance  I  hope  to  reinstate  your  brave  uncle  in  Bothwell 
castle,  and  soon  to  cut  a  passage  to  even  a  mightier  rescue. 
We  must  carry  off  Scotland  from  the  tyrant's  arms,  or," 
added  he  in  a  graver  tone,  "we  shall  only  rivet  her  chains 
the  closer." 

"  I  am  but  a  poor  auxiliary,"  returned  Murray  ;  "  my  troop 
is  a  scanty  one,  for  it  is  of  my  own  gathering.  It  is  not  my 
father's  nor  my  uncle's  strength  that  I  bring  along  with  me. 
But  there  is  one  here/'  continued  he,  "  who  has  preserved  a 
party  of  men  sent  by  my  cousin  Lady  Helen  Mar,  almost 
double  my  numbers." 

At  this  reference  to  the  youthful  warrior,  Sir  Roger  Kirk- 
patrick discerned  him  at  a  distance,  and  hastened  towards 
him,  while  Murray  briefly  related  to  Wallace  the  extraor- 
dinary conduct  of  this  .unknown.  On  being  told  that  the 
chief  waited  to  receive  him,  the  youth  hastened  forward  with 
a  trepidation  he  never  had  felt  before;  but  it  was  a  trepi- 
dation that  did  not  subtract  from  his  own  worth :  it  was  the 


CRA IGNA  COHEILG.  137 

timidity  of  a  noble  heart,  which,  believed  it  approached  one 
of  the  most  perfect  among  mortals ;  and  while  its  anxious 
pulse  beat  to  emulate  such  merit,  a  generous  consciousness 
of  measureless  inferiority  embarrassed  him  with  a-  confusion 
so  amiable  that  Wallace,  who  perceived  his  extreme  youth 
and  emotion,  opened  his  arms  and  embraced  him.  "Brave 
youth,"  cried  he,  "  I  trust  that  the  power  which  blesses  our 
cause  will  enable  me  to  return  you  with  many  a  well-earned 
glory  to  the  bosom  of  your  family." 

Edwin  was  encouraged  by  the  fran-k  address  of  a  hero 
whom  he  expected  to  have  found  reserved  and  wrapped  in 
the  deep  glooms  of  the  fate  which  had  roused  him  to  be  a 
thunderbolt  of  heaven ;  but  when  he  saw  a  benign  though 
pale  countenance  hail  him  with  smiles,  he  made  a  strong 
effort  to  shake  off  the  awe  with  which  the  name  and  the 
dignity  of  figure  and  mien  of  Wallace  had  oppressed  him, 
and  with  a  mantling  blush  he  replied :  "  My  family  are  worthy 
of  your  esteem ;  my  father  is  brave,  but  my  mother,  fearing 
for  me,  her  favorite  son,  prevailed  on  him  to  put  me  into  a 
monastery.  Dreading  the  power  of  the  English,  even  there 
she  allowed  none  but  the  abbot  to  know  who  I  was.  And  as 
he  chose  to  hide  my  name,  and  I  have  burst  from  my  conceal- 
ment without  her  knowledge,  till  I  do  something  worthy  of 
that  name  and  deserving  her  pardon,  permit  me,  noble  Wal- 
lace, to  follow  your  footsteps  by  the  simple  appellation  of 
Edwin." 

"Noble  boy,"  returned  the  chief,  "your  wish  shall  be  re- 
spected. We  urge  you  no  further  to  reveal  what  such  innate 
bravery  must  shortly  proclaim. in  the  most  honorable  manner." 

The  whole  of  the  troop  having  ascended,  while  their  wives, 
children,  and  friends  were  rejoicing  in  their  embraces,  Wallace 
asked  some  questions  relative  to  Both  well,  and  Murray  briefly 
related  the  disasters  which  had  happened  there. 

"  My  father,"  added  he,  "  is  still  with  the  Lord  of  Lochawe, 
and  thither  I  sent  to  request  him  to  despatch  to  the  Cartlane 
craigs  all  the  followers  he  took  with  him  into  Argyleshire. 
But  as  things  are,  would  it  not  be  well  to  send  a  second  mes- 
senger to  say  that  you  have  sought  refuge  in  Glenfmlass  ?  " 

"Before  he  could  arrive,"  returned  Wallace,  "I  hope  we 
shall  be  where  Lord  Bothwell's  reinforcements  may  reach  us 
by  water.  Our  present  object  must  be  the  Earl  of  Mar.  He 
is  the  first  Scottish  earl  who  has  hazarded  his  estates  and  life 
for  Scotland,  and  as  her  best  friend,  his  liberation  must  be 
our  first  enterprise.  In  my  circuit  through  two  or  three 


138  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

eastern  counties  a  promising  increase  has  been  made  to  our 
little  army.  The  Erasers,  of  Oliver  castle,  have  given  me  two 
hundred  men,  and  the  brave  Sir  Alexander  Scrymgeour,  whom 
I  met  in  West  Lothian,  has  not  only  brought  fifty  stout  Scots 
to  my  command,  but,  as  hereditary  standard-bearer 1  of  the 
kingdom,  has  come  himself  to  carry  the  royal  banner  of  Scot- 
land to  glory  or  oblivion." 

"To  glory!"  cried  Murray,  waving  his  sword.  "Oh,  not 
while  a  Scot  survives  shall  that  blood-red  lion 2  again  lick 
the  dust!" 

"No,"  cried  Kirkpatrick,  his  eyes  flashing  fire;  "rather 
may  every  Scot  and  every  Southron  fall  in  the  struggle  and 
fill  one  grave.  Let  me,"  cried  he,  sternly  grasping  the  hilt  of 
his  sword  and  looking  upwards,  —  "  let  me,  0  Saviour  of  man- 
kind !  live  but  to  see  the  Forth  and  the  Clyde,  so  often  reddened 
with  our  blood,  dye  the  eastern  and  the  western  oceans  with 
the  vital  bood  of  these  our  foes ;  and  when  none  is  spared  then 
let  me  die  in  peace." 

The  eyes  of  Wallace  glanced  on  the  young  Edwin,  who 
stood  gazing  on  Kirkpatrick,  and  turning  on  the  knight  with 
a  powerful  look  of  reprehension,  "  Check  that  prayer,"  cried 
he ;  "  remember,  my  brave  companion,  what  the  Saviour  of 
mankind  was,  and  then  think  whether  he  who  offered  life  to 
all  the  world  will  listen  to  so  damning  an  invocation.  If  we 
would  be  blessed  in  the  contest  we  must  be  merciful." 

"  To  whom  ?  "  exclaimed  Kirkpatrick ;  "  to  the  robbers  who 
tear  from  us  our  lands,  to  the  ruffians  who  wrest  from  us  our 
honors  ?  But  you  are  patient ;  you  never  received  a  blow." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Wallace,  turning  paler,  "  a  heavy  one,  —  on 
my  heart." 

"  True,"  returned  Kirkpatrick,  "  your  wife  fell  under  the 
steel  of  a  Southron  governor,  and  you  slew  him  for  it.  You 
were  revenged,  your  feelings  were  appeased." 

1  This  Sir  Alexander  Scrymgeour  was  the  descendant  of  the  two  renowned  knights  of 
that  name  who  signalized  themselves  by  similar  acts  of  bravery  in  the  reigns  of  Malcolm 
III.  and  Alexander  I.     Their  name  was  originally  Carron,  and  the  reason  of  its  change 
is  thus  recorded  :  During  a  rebellion  of  Malcolm  III.'s  northern  subjects,  that  monarch 
was  dangerously  beset  on  the  banks  of  the  Spey.    It  was  necessary  he  should  cross  the 
river,  then  very  perilous  in  its  current,  and  a  strong  body  of  the  enemy  lined  the  oppo- 
site shore  to  prevent  his  landing.     The  standard-bearer  of  the  royal  army,  at  sight  of 
these  dangers,  made  a  halt.     The  king,  in  displeasure,  snatched  the  standard  from  his 
hand  and  gave  it  to  Sir  Alexander  Carron,  who  immediately  plunged  into  the  river,  and 
swimming  to  the  other  side  performed  prodigies  of  valor  amongst  the  rebels.     For  this 
service  Malcolm  gave  to  him  and  his  posterity  the  name  of  Scrymgeour  (sharp  fight) 
and  proclaimed  him  his  royal  standard-bearer  in  the  Scottish  army.    This  post  was  made 
hereditary  in  the  family  by  Alexander  I.,  to  reward  the  son  of  the  first  of  the  name  of 
Scrymgeour  for  an  action  of  similar  loyalty.     Sir  Alexander  Scrymgeour,  the  descend- 
ant of  these  heroes,  and  the  friend  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  proved  himself  in  every  way 
worthy  of  hirf  ancestors. 

2  A  lion  gules,  in  a  field  or,  is  the  arms  of  Scotland. —  (1809.) 


CRAIGNA  COHEILG.  139 

"  Not  the  death  of  fifty  thousand  governors,"  replied  Wal- 
lace, "could  appease  my  feelings.  Revenge  were  insufficient 
to  satisfy  the  yearnings  of  my  soul."  For  a  moment  he 
covered  his  agitated  features  with  his  hand,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded :  "  I  slew  Heselrigge  because  he  was  a  monster  under 
whom  the  earth  groaned.  My  sorrow,  deep,  deep  as  it  was, 
was  but  one  of  many  which  his  rapacity  and  his  nephew's 
licentiousness  had  produced.  Both  fell  beneath  my  arm ; 
but  I  do  not  denounce  the  whole  nation  without  reserve. 
When  the  sword  of  war  is  drawn,  all  who  resist  must  conquer 
or  fall ;  but  there  are  some  noble  English  who  abhor  the 
tyranny  they  are  obliged  to  exercise  over  us,  and  when  they 
declare  such  remorse,  shall  they  not  find  mercy  at  our  hands  ? 
Surely,  if  not  for  humanity,  for  policy's  sake,  we  ought  to  give 
quarter ;  for  the  exterminating  sword,  if  not  always  victorious, 
incurs  the  ruin  it  threatens.  I  even  hope  that  by  our  right- 
eous cause  and  our  clemency  we  shall  not  only  gather  our 
own  people  to  our  legions,  but  turn  the  hearts  of  the  poor 
Welsh  and  the  misled  Irish,  whom  the  usurper  has  forced 
into  his  armies,  and  so  confront  him  with  troops  of  his  own 
levying.  Many  of  the  English  were  too  just  to  share  in  the 
subjugation  of  the  country  they  had  sworn  to  befriend.  And 
their  less  honorable  countrymen,  when  they  see  Scotsmen  no 
longer  consenting  to  their  own  degradation,  may  take  shame 
to  themselves  for  assisting  to  betray  a  confiding  people." 

"  That  may  be,"  returned  Kirkpatrick ;  "  but  surely  you 
would  not  rank  Aymer  de  Valence,  who  lords  it  over  Dum- 
barton, and  Cressingham,  who  acts  the  tyrant  in  Stirling, — 
you  would  not  rank  them  amongst  these  conscientious  Eng- 
lish ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Wallace ;  "  the  haughty  oppression  of  the 
one  and  the  wanton  cruelty  of  the  other  have  given  Scotland 
too  many  wounds  for  me  to  hold  a  shield  before  them ;  meet 
them,  and  I  leave  them  to  your  sword." 

"  And  by  heavens,"  cried  Kirkpatrick,  gnashing  his  teeth 
with  the  fury  of  a  tiger,  "  they  shall  know  its  point !  " 

Wallace  then  informed  his  friends  he  purposed  marching 
next  morning  by  daybreak  towards  Dumbarton  castle. 
"When  we  make  the  attack,"  said  he,  "it  must  be  in  the 
night,  for  I  propose  seizing  it  by  storm." 

Murray  and  Kirkpatrick  joyfully  acquiesced.  Edwin 
smiled  an  enraptured  assent,  and  Wallace,  with  many  a 
gracious  look  and  speech,  disengaged  himself  from  the  clinging 
embraces  of  the  weaker  part  of  the  garrison,  who,  seeing  in 


140  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

him  the  spring  of  their  husbands'  might  and  the  guard  of 
their  own  safety,  clung  to  him  as  to  a  presiding  deity. 

"  You,  my  dear  countrywomen,"  said  he,  "  shall  find  a  home 
for  your  aged  parents,  your  children,  and  yourselves  with  the 
venerable  Sir  John  Scott,  of  Loch  Doine.  You  are  to  be  con- 
ducted thither  this  evening,  and  there  await  in  comfort  the 
happy  return  of  your  husbands,  whom  Providence  now  leads 
forth  to  be  the  champions  of  your  country." 

Filled  with  enthusiasm,  the  women  uttered  a  shout  of  tri- 
umph, and  embracing  their  husbands,  declared  they  were 
ready  to  resign  them  wholly  to  Heaven  and  Sir  William 
Wallace. 

Wallace  left  them  with  these  tender  relatives  from  whom 
they  were  so  soon  to  part,  and  retired  with  his  chieftains  to 
arrange  the  plan  of  his  proposed  attack.  Delighted  with  the 
glory  which  seemed  to  wave  him  from  the  pinnacles  of  Dum- 
barton rock,  Edwin  listened  in  profound  silence  to  all  that 
was  said,  and  then  hastened  to  his  quarters  to  prepare  his 
armor  for  the  ensuing  morning. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    CLIFFS    OF    LOCH    LUBNAIG. 

IN  the  cool  of  the  evening, -while  the  young  chieftain  was 
thus  employed,  Kenneth  entered  to  tell  him  that  Sir  William 
Wallace  had  called  out  his  little  army  to  see  its  strength  and 
numbers.-  Edwin's  soul  had  become  not  more  enamored  of  the 
panoply  of  war  than  of  the  gracious  smiles  of  his  admired 
leader,  and  at  this  intelligence  he  threw  his  plaid  over  his 
brigandine,  and  placing  a  swan-plumed  bonnet  on  his  brows, 
hastened  forth  to  meet  his  general. 

The  heights  of  Craignacoheilg  echoed  with  thronging  foot- 
steps, and  a  glittering  light  seemed  issuing  from  her  woods,  as 
the  rays  of  the  descending  sun  glanced  on  the  arms  of  her 
assembling  warriors. 

The  thirty  followers  of  Murray  appeared  just  as  the  two 
hundred  Erasers  entered  from  an  opening  in  the  rocks.  Blood 
mounted  into  his  face  as  he  compared  his  inferior  numbers 
and  recollected  the  obligation  th'ey  were  to  repay,  and  the 
greater  one  he  was  now  going  to  incur.  However,  he  threw 


THE    CLIFFS    OF   LOCH    LUBNAIG.  141 

the  standard,  worked  by  Helen,  on  his  shoulder,  and  turning 
to  Wallace,  "Behold,"  cried  he,  pointing  to  his  men,  "the 
poor  man's  mite !  It  is  great,  for  it  is  my  all." 

"Great  indeed,  brave  Murray,"  returned  Wallace,  "for  it 
brings  me  a  host  in  yourself." 

"I  will  not  disgrace  my  standard,"  said  he,  lowering  the 
banner-staff  to  Wallace.  He  started  when  he  saw  the  flowing 
lock  which  he  could  not  help  recognizing.  "  This  is  my  be- 
trothed," continued  Murray  in  a  blither  tone ;  "  I  have  sworn 
to  take  her  for  better  for  worse,  and  I  pledge  you  my  troth 
nothing  but  death  shall  part  us." 

Wallace  grasped  his  hand.  "  And  I  pledge  you  mine,  that 
the  head  whence  it  grew  sKall  be  laid  low  before  I  suffer  so 
generous  a  defender  to  be  separated,  dead  or  alive,  from  this 
standard."  His  eyes  glanced  at  the  impresse.  "  Thou  art 
right,"  continued  he,  "  God  doth  indeed  arm  thee ;  and  in  the 
strength  of  a  righteous  cause  thou  goest  with  the  confidence 
of  success  to  embrace  victory  as  a  bride." 

•"No,  I  am  only  the  bridegroom's  man,"  replied  Murray, 
gayly  moving  off.  "  I  shall  be  content  with  a  kiss  or  two  from 
the  handmaids,  and  leave  the  lady  for  my  general." 

"  Hapj>y,  happy  youth !  "  said  Wallace  to  himself  as  his  eye 
pursued  the  agile  footsteps  of  the  young  chieftain.  "  No  con- 
quering affection  has  yet  thrown  open  thy  heart ;  no  deadly 
injury  hath  lacerated  it  with  wounds  incurable.  Patriotism 
is  a  virgin  passion  in  thy  breast,  and  innocence  and  joy  wait 
upon  her." 

"  We  just  muster  five  hundred  men,"  observed  Ker  to  Wal- 
lace ;  "  but  they  are  all  stout  in  heart  as  condition,  and  ready, 
even  to-night,  if  you  will  it,  to  commence  their  march." 

"  No,"  replied  Wallace ;  "  we  must  not  overstrain  the  gener- 
ous spirit.  Let  them  rest  to-night,  and  to-morrow's  dawn  shall 
light  us  through  the  forest." 

Ker,  who  acted  as  henchman  to  Wallace,  now  returned  to 
the  ranks  to  give  the  word,  and  they  all  marched  forward. 

Sir  Alexander  Scrymgeour,  with  his  golden  standard,  charged 
with  the  lion  of  Scotland,  led  the  van.  Wallace  raised  his  bon- 
net from  his  head  as  it  drew  near.  Scrymgeour  lowered  the 
staff.  Wallace  threw  up  his  outstretched  hand  at  this  action, 
but  the  knight  not  understanding  him,  he  stepped  forward.  "  Sir 
Alexander  Scrymgeour,"  cried  he,  "  that  standard  must  not  bow 
to  me.  It  represents  the  royalty  of  Scotland,  before  which  we 
fight  for  our  liberties.  If  virtue"  yet  dwell  in  the  house  of  the 
valiant  Saint  David,  some  of  his  offspring  will  hear  of  this 


142  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

day,  and  lead  it  forward  to  conquest  and  to  a  crown.  Till 
such  an  hour,  let  not  that  standard  bend  to  any  man." 

Wallace  fell  back  as  he  spoke,  and  Scrymgeour,  bowing  his 
head  in  sign  of  acquiescence,  marched  on. 

Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  at  the  head  of  his  well-appointed 
Highlanders,  next  advanced.  His  blood-red  banner  streamed 
to  the  air,  and  as  it  bent  to  Wallace,  he  saw  that  the  indignant 
knight  had  adopted  the  device  of  the  hardy  King  Archaius,1 
but  with  a  fiercer  motto  :  "Touch,  and  I  pierce  " 

"That  man,"  thought  Wallace,  as  he  passed  along,  " carries 
a  relentless  sword  in  his  very  eye." 

The  men  of  Loch  Doine,  a  strong,  tall,  and  well-armed  body, 
marched  on,  and  gave  place  to  the  advancing  corps  of  Bothwell. 
The  eye  of  Wallace  felt  as  if  turning  from  gloom  and  horror 
to  the  cheerful  light  of  day  when  it  fell  on  the  bright  and  in- 
genuous face  of  Murray.  Kenneth,  with  his  troop,  followed, 
and  the  youthful  Edwin,  like  Cupid  in  arms,  closed  the  pro- 
cession. 

Being  drawn  up  in  line,  their  chief,  fully  satisfied,  advanced 
toward  them,  and  expressing  his  sentiment  of  the  patriot- 
ism which  brought  them  into  the  field,  informed  them  of  his 
intended  march.  He  then  turned  to  Stephen  Ireland  :  "  The 
sun  has  now  set,"  said  he,  "  and  before  dark  you  must  con- 
duct the  families  of  my  worthy  Lanarkmen  to  the  protection  of 
Sir  John  Scott.  It  is  time  that  age,  infancy,  and  female  weak- 
ness should  cease  their  wanderings  with  us ;  to-night  we  bid 
them  adieu,  to  meet  them  again,  by  the  leading  of  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,  in  freedom  and  prosperity." 

As  Wallace  ceased,  and  was  retiring  from  the  ground,  several 
old  men,  and  young  women  with  their  babes  in  their  arms, 
rushed  from  behind  the  ranks,  and  throwing  themselves  at  his 
feet,  caught  hold  of  his  hands  and  garments.  "We  go,"  said 
the  venerable  fathers,  "  to  pray  for  your  welfare. ;  and  sure  we 
are  a  crown  will  bless  our  country's  benefactor,  here  or  in 
heaven. " 

"In  heaven,"  replied  Wallace,  shaking  the  plumes  of  his 
bonnet  over  his  eyes  to  hide  the  moisture  which  suffused  them. 
"I  can  have  no  right  to  any  other  crown." 

"  Yes,"  cried  a  hoary-headed  shepherd ;  "  you  free  your 
country  from  tyrants,  and  the  people's  hearts  will  proclaim 
their  deliverer  their  sovereign. " 

i  Archaius,  King  of  Scotland,  having  won  the  love  and  alliance  of  Charlemagne  and  of 
many  other  Christian  kings,  found  himself  to  be  so  mighty  that  he  took  for  his  device  the 
thistle  and  the  rewe,  and  for  his  motto,  For  my  defence.  The  rewe,  from  its  salutary 
properties,  denoting  his  wisdom  in  peace,  and  the  thistle,  by  its  guardian  pricklee, 
exemplifying  his  power  in  war.  —  (1809.) 


THE    CLIFFS    OF   LOCH   LUBNAIG.  143 

"  May  your  rightful  monarch,  worthy  patriarch,"  said  Wal- 
lace, "  whether  a  Bruce  or  a  Baliol,  meet  with  equal  zeal  from 
Scotland  at  large,  and  tyranny  must  then  fall  before  courage 
and  loyalty." 

The  women  wept  as  they  clung  to  his  hand,  and  the  daughter 
of  Ireland,  holding  up  her  child  in  her  arms,  presented  it  to 
him.  "  Look  on  my  son,"  cried  she  with  energy  ;  "  the  first 
word  he  speaks  shall  be  Wallace  ;  the  second,  liberty.  And 
every  drop  of  milk  he  draws  from  my  bosom  shall  be  turned 
into  blood,  to  nerve  a  conquering  arm  or  to  flow  for  his 
country." 

At  this  speech  all  the  women  held  up  their  children  towards 
him.  "  Here,"  cried  they,  "  we  devote  them  to  Heaven  and  to 
our  country.  Adopt  them,  noble  Wallace,  to  be  thy  followers 
in  arms  when,  perhaps,  their  fathers  are  laid  low."  ' 

Unable  to  speak,  Wallace  pressed  their  little  faces  sepa- 
rately to  his  lips  ;  then  returning  them  to  their  mothers,  laid 
his  hand  on  his  heart  and  answered  in  an  agitated  voice, 
"  They  are  mine ;  my,  weal  shall  be  theirs,  my  woe  my  own." 
As  he  spoke  he  hurried  from  the  weeping  group,  and  im- 
merging  amid  the  cliffs,  hid  himself  from  their  tears  and 
their  blessings. 

He  threw  himself  on  a  shelving  rock  whose  fern-covered 
bosom  projected  over  the  winding  waters  of  Loch  Lubnaig, 
and  having  stilled  his  own  anguished  recollections  he  turned 
his  full  eyes  upon  the  lake  beneath,  and  while  he  contem- 
plated its  serene  surface,  he  sighed  and  thought  how  tranquil 
was  nature  till  the  rebellious  passions  of  man,  wearying  of 
innocent  joys,  disturbed  all  by  restlessness  and  invasion  on 
the  peace  and  happiness  of  others. 

The  mists  of  evening  hung  on  the  gigantic  tops  of  Ben  Ledi 
and  Ben  Vorlich,  then  sailing  forward,  by  degrees  obscured 
the  whole  of  the  mountains,  leaving  nothing  for  the  eye  to 
dwell  on  but  the  long,  silent  expanse  of  the  waters  below. 

"  So,"  said  he,  "  did  I  once  believe  myself  forever  shut  in 
from  the  world  by  an  obscurity  that  promised  me  happiness 
as  well  as  seclusion.  But  the  hours  of  Ellerslie  are  gone. 
No  tender  wife  will  now  twine  her  faithful  arms  around  my 
neck.  No  child  of  Marion's  will  ever  be  pressed  to  my  fond 
bosom.  Alas,  the  angel  that  sunk  my  country's  wrongs  to  a 
dreamy  forgetfulness  in  her  arms,  she  was  to  be  immolated, 
that  I  might  awake !  My  wife,  my  unborn  babe,  they  both 
must  bleed  for  Scotland,  and  the  sacrifice  shall  not  be  yielded 
in  vain.  No,  blessed  God !  "  cried  he,  stretching  his  clasped 


144  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

hands  towards  heaven ;  "  endow  me  with  thine  own  spirit,  and 
I  shall  yet  lead  my  countrymen  to  liberty  and  happiness. 
Let  me  counsel  with  thy  wisdom ;  let  me  conquer  with  thine 
arm ;  and  when  all  is  finished,  give  me,  0  gracious  Father,  a 
quiet  grave  beside  iny  wife  and  child  !  " 

Tears,  the  first  he  had  shed  since  the  hour  in  which  he  last 
pressed  his  Marion  to  his  heart,  now  flowed  copiously  from 
his  eyes.  The  women,  the  children,  had  aroused  all  his  recol- 
lections, but  in  so  softened  a  train,  that  they  melted  his 
heart  till  he  wept.  "It  is  thy  just  tribute,  Marion,"  said 
he ;  "  it  was  blood  you  shed  for  me,  and  shall  I  check  these 
poor  drops  ?  Look  on  me,  sweet  saint,  best  beloved  of  my 
soul !  Oh,  hover  near  me  in  the  day  of  battle,  and  thousands 
of  thine  and  Scotland's  enemies  shall  fall  before  thy  hus- 
band's arm  ! " 

The  plaintive  voice  of  the  Highland  pipe  at  this  moment 
broke  upon  his  ear.  It  was  the  farewell  of  the  patriarch 
Lindsay,  as  he  and  his  departing  company  descended  the 
winding  paths  of  Craignacoheilg.  Wallace  started  on  his 
feet.  The  separation  had  then  taken  place  between  his  trusty 
•followers  and  their  families,  and  guessing  the  feelings  of 
those  brave  men  from  what  was  passing  in  his  own  breast, 
he  dried  away  the  traces  of  his  tears,  and  once  more  resuming 
the  warrior's  cheerful  look,  sought  that  part  of  the  rock 
where  the  Lanarkmen  were  quartered. 

As  he  drew  near  he  saw  some  standing  on  the  cliff,  and 
others  leaning  over,  to  catch  another  glance  of  the  departing 
group  ere  it  was  lost  amid  the  shades  of  G-lenfinlass. 

"  Are  they  quite  gone  ?  "  asked  Dugald.  "  Quite,"  answered 
a  young  man  who  seemed  to  have  got  the  most  advantageous 
situation  for  a  view.  "  Then,"  cried  he,  "  may  St.  Andrew 
keep  them  till  we  meet  again ! " 

"  May  a  greater  than  St.  Andrew  hear  thy  prayer  ! "  ejacu- 
lated Wallace.  At  the  sound  of  this  response  from  their 
fihief  they  all  turned  round.  "  My  brave  companions,"  said 
he,  "  I  come  to  repay  this  hour's  pang  by  telling  you  that  in 
the  attack  of  Dumbarton  you  shall  have  the  honor  of  first 
mounting  the  walls.  I  shall  be  at  your  head  to  sign  each 
brave  soldier  with  a  patriot's  seal  of  honor." 

"  To  follow  you,  my  lord,"  said  Dugald,  "  is  our  duty." 

"  I  grant  it,"  replied  the  chief ;  "  and  as  I  am  the  leader  in 
that  duty,  it  is  mine  to  dispense  to  every  man  his  reward,  to 
prove  to  all  men  that  virtue  alone  is  true  nobility." 

"  Ah,  dearest  sir !  "  exclaimed  Edwin,  who  had  been  assist- 


LOCH   LOMOND.  145 

ing  the  women  to  carry  their  infants  down  the  steep,  and  on 
reascending  heard  the  latter  part  of  this  conversation,  "de- 
prive me  not  of  the  aim  of  my  life.  These  warriors  have  had 
you  long;  have  distinguished  themselves  in  your  eyes  ;  deprive 
me  not,  then,  of  the  advantages  of  being  near  you ;  it  will  make 
me  doubly  brave.  Oh,  my  dear  commander,  let  me  only  carry 
to  the  grave  the  consciousness  that,  next  to  yourself,  I  was 
the  first  to  mount  the  rock  of  Dumbarton,  and  you  will  make 
me  noble  indeed !  " 

Wallace  looked  at  him  with  a  smile  of  such  graciousness 
•ihat  the  youth  threw  himself  into  his  arms.  "  You  will  grant 
my  boon  ?  " 

"  I  will,  noble  boy,"  said  he  ;  "  act  up  to  your  sentiments, 
and  you  shall  be  my  brother." 

"Call  me  by  that  name,"  cried  Edwin,  "and  I  will  dare 
anything." 

."  Then  be  the  first  to  follow  me  on  the  rock,"  said  he, 
"  and  I  will  lead  you  to  an  honor  the  highest  in  my  gift  — 
you  shall  unloose  the  .chains  of  the  Earl  of  Mar.  And  ye," 
continued  he,  turning  to  his  men,  "  ye  shall  not  find  your 
country  slow  to  commemorate  the  duty  of  such  sons.  Being 
the  first  to  strike  the  blow  for  her  freedom,  ye  shall  be  the 
first  she  will  distinguish.  I  now  speak  as  her  minister ;  and 
as  a  badge  to  times  immemorial,  I  bid  you  wear  the  Scottish 
lion  on  your  shields." 

A  shout  of  proud  joy  issued  from  every  heart.  And  Wallace, 
seeing  that  honor  had  dried  the  tears  of  regret,  left  them  to 
repose.  He  sent  Edwin  to  his  rest,  and  himself,  avoiding 
the  other  chieftains,  retired  to  his  own  chamber  in  the  tower. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


LOCH    LOMOND. 

PROFOUND  as  was  the  rest  of  Wallace,  yet  the  first  clarion 
of  the  lark  awakened  him.  The  rosy  dawn  shone  in  at  the 
window,  and  a  fresh  breeze  wooed  him  with  its  inspiring 
breath  t<>  rise  and  meet  it.  But  the  impulse  was  in  his  own 
mind ;  he  needed  nothing  outward  to'  call  him  to  action.  Ris- 
ing immediately  he  put  on  his  glittering  hauberk,  and  issuing 
from  the  tower,  raised  his  bugle  to  his  lips  and  blew  so 

VOL.  I.  — 10 


146  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

ing  a  blast  that  in  an.  instant  the  whole  rock  was  covered  with 
soldiers. 

Wallace  placed  his  helmet  on  his  head  and  advanced 
towards  them  just  as  Edwin  had  joined  him  and  Sir  Roger 
Kirkpatrick  appeared  from  the  tower.  "  Blest  be  this  morn  !  " 
cried  the  old  knight.  "  My  sword  springs  from  its  scabbard 
to  meet  it;  and  ere  its  good  steel  be  sheathed  again/'  con- 
tinued he,  shaking  it  sternly,  "what  deaths  may  dye  its 
point ! " 

Wallace  shuddered  at  the  ferocity  with  which  his  colleague 
contemplated  those  features  of  war  from  which  every  humane 
soldier  would  seek  to  turn  his  thoughts,  that  he  might  en- 
counter it  with  the  steadiness  of  a  man,  and  not  the  irresolu- 
tion of  a  woman.  To  hail  the  field  of  blood  with  the  fierceness 
of  a  hatred  eager  for  the  slaughter  of  its  victim,  to  know  any 
joy  in  combat  but  that  each  contest  might  render  another 
less  necessary,  did  not  enter  into  the  imagination  of  Wallace 
until  he  had  heard  and  seen  the  infuriate  Kirkpatrick.  He 
talked  of  the  coming  battle  with  horrid  rapture,  and  told  the 
young  Edwin  he  should  that  day  see  Loch  Lomond  red  with 
English  blood. 

Offended  at  such  savageness,  but  without  answering  him, 
Wallace  drew  towards  Murray,  and  calling  to  Edwin,  ordered 
him  to  march  at  his  side.  The  youth  seemed  glad  of  the  sum- 
mons, and  Wallace  was  pleased  to  observe  it,  as  he  thought 
that  a  longer  stay  with  one  who  so  grossly  overcharged  the 
feelings  of  honest  patriotism  might  breed  disgust  in  his  inno- 
cent mind  against  a  cause  which  had  so  furious,  and  therefore 
unjust,  a  defender. 

"  Justice  and  mercy  ever  dwell  together,"  said  he  to  Edwin, 
who  now  drew  near  him  ;  "  for  universal  love  is  the  parent  of 
Justice  as  well  as  of  Mercy.  But  implacable  Revenge,  whence 
did  she  spring  but  from  the  head  of  Satan  himself  ?  " 

Though  their  cause  appeared  the  same,  never  were  two 
spirits  more  discordant  than  those  of  Wallace  and  Kirkpat- 
rick. But  Kirkpatrick  did  not  so  soon  discover  the  dissimi- 
larity, as  it  is  easier  for  purity  to  descry  its  opposite,  than 
for  foulness  to  apprehend  that  anything  can  be  purer  than 
itself. 

The  forces  being  marshalled  according  to  the  preconcerted 
order,  the  three  commanders,  with  Wallace  at  their  head,  led 
forward. 

They  passed  through  the  forest  of  Glenfinlass,  and  morn- 
ing and  evening  still  found  them  thridding  its  unsuspected 


LOCH   LOMOND  147 

solitudes  in  unmolested  security;  night,  too,  watched  their 
onward  march. 

The  sun  had  just  risen  as  the  little  band  of  patriots,  the 
hope  of  freedom,  emerged  upon  the  eastern  bank  of  Loch 
Lomond.  The  bases  of  the  mountains  were  yet  covered  with 
the  dispersing  mist  of  the  morning,  and  hardly  distinguishable 
from  the  blue  waters  of  the  lake  which  lashed  the  shore.  The 
newly  awakened  sheep  bleated  from  the  hills,  and  the  um- 
brageous herbage,  dropping  dew,  seemed  glittering  with  a 
thousand  fairy  gems. 

"  Where  is  the  man  who  would  not  fight  for  such  a  coun- 
try ?  "  exclaimed  Murray  as  he  stepped  over  a  bridge  of  inter- 
woven trees  which  crossed  one  of  the  mountain-streams ; 
"  this  land  was  not  made  for  slaves.  Look  at  these  bulwarks 
of  nature.  Every  mountain-head  which  forms  this  chain  of 
hills  is  an  impregnable  rampart  against  invasion.  If  Baliol 
had  possessed  but  half  a  heart,  Edward  might  have  returned 
even  worse  than  Caesar  —  without  a  cockle  to  decorate  his 
helmet." 

"  Baliol  has  found  the  oblivion  he  incurred,"  returned  Wal- 
lace ;  "his  son,  perhaps,  may  better  deserve  the  sceptre  of  such 
a  country.  Let  us  cut  the  way,  and  he  who  merits  the  crown 
will  soon  appear  to  claim  it." 

Then  it  will  not  be  Edward  Baliol,"  rejoined  Scrymgeour. 
"During  the  inconsistent  reign  of  his  father  I  once  carried 
a  despatch  to  him  from  Scotland.  He  was  then  banqueting  in 
all  the  luxuries  of  the  English  court ;  and  such  a  voluptuary 
I  never  beheld.  I  left  the  scene  of  folly,  only  praying  that 
so  effeminate  a  prince  might  never  disgrace  the  throne  of  our 
manly  race  of  kings." 

"  If  such  be  the  tuition  of  our  lords  in  the  court  of  Edward 
—  and  wise  is  the  policy,  for  his  own  views,"  observed  Ker, 
"what  can  we  expect  from  even  the  Bruce  ?  They  were  ever 
a  nobler  race  than  the  Baliol ;  but  bad  education  and  luxury 
will  debase  the  most  princely  minds." 

"I  saw  neither  of  the  Bruce  when  I  visited  London," 
replied  Scrymgeour;  "the  Earl  of  Carrick  was  at  his  house 
in  Cleveland,  and  Robert  Bruce,  his  eldest  son,  with  the  Eng- 
lish army  in  Guienne.  But  they  bore  a  manly  character,  par- 
ticularly young  Robert,  to  whom  the  troubadours  of  Aquitaine 
have  given  the  nattering  appellation  of  Prince  of  Chivalry  " 

"  It  would  be  more  to  his  honor,"  interrupted  Murray,  "  if 
he  compelled  the  English  to  acknowledge  him  as  Prince  of 
Scotland.  With  so  much  bravery  how  can  he  allow  such  a 


148  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

civet-cat  as  Edward  Baliol  to  bear  away  the  title  which  is  hii 
by  the  double  right  of  blood  and  virtue  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Wallace,  "  the  young  lion  only  sleeps.  The 
time  may  come  when  both  he  and  his  father  will  rise  from 
their  lethargy  and  throw  themselves  at  once  into  the  arms  of 
Scotland.  To  stimulate  the  dormant  patriotism  of  these  two 
princes  by  showing  them  a  subject  leading  their  people  to 
liberty  is  one  great  end  of  the  victories  I  seek.  None  other 
than  a  brave  king  can  bind  the  various  interests  of  this  dis- 
tracted country  into  one;  and  therefore  for  fair  Freedom's  sake 
my  heart  turns  towards  the  Bruces  with  most  anxious  hopes." 

"  For  my  part,"  cried  Murray,  "  I  have  always  thought  the 
lady  we  will  not  woo,  we  have  no  right  to  pretend  to.  If  the 
Bruces  will  not  be  at  the  pains  to  snatch  Scotland  from  drown- 
ing, I  see  no  reason  for  making  them  a  present  of  what  will 
cost  us  many  a  wet  jacket  before  we  tug  her  from  the  waves. 
He  that  wins  the  day  ought  to  wear  the  laurel ;  and  so,  once 
for  all,  I  proclaim  him  King  of  good  old  Albin  *  who  will  have 
the  glory  of  driving  her  opposers  beyond  her  dykes." 

Wallace  did  not  hear  this  last  sentiment  of  Murray's,  as  it 
was  spoken  in  a  lowered  voice  in  the  ear  of  Kirkpatrick.  "  I 
perfectly  agree  with  you,"  was  that  knight's  reply,  "  and  in  the 
true  Roman  style  may  the  death  of  every  Southron  now  in 
Scotland,  and  as  many  more  as  fate  chooses  to  yield  us,  be  the 
preliminary  games  of  his  coronation." 

Wallace,  who  heard  this,  turned  to  Kirkpatrick  with  a  mild 
rebuke  in  his  eye.  "  Balaam  blest  when  he  meant  to  curse," 
said  he ;  "  but  some  curse  when  they  mean  to  bless.  Such 
prayers  are  blasphemy.  For  can  we  expect  a  blessing  on  our 
arms  when  all  our  invocations  are  for  vengance  rather  than 
yictory  ?  " 

"  Blood  for  blood  is  only  justice,"  returned  Murray ;  "  and 
how  can  you,  noble  Wallace,  as  a  Scot  and  as  a  man,  imply 
any  mercy  to  the  villains  who  stab  us  to  the  heart  ?  " 

"  I  plead  not  for  them, "  replied  Wallace,  "  but  for  the  poor 
wretches  who  follow  their  leaders,  by  force,  to  the  field  of  Scot- 
land. I  would  not  inflict  on  them  the  cruelties  we  now  resent. 
It  is  not  to  aggrieve  but  to  redress  that  we  carry  arms.  If  we 
make  not  this  distinction,  we  turn  courage  into  a  crime,  and 
plant  disgrace  instead  of  honor  upon  the  warrior's  brow." 

u  I  do  not  understand  commiserating  the  wolves  who  have 
so  long  made  havoc  in  our  country,"  cried  Kirkpatrick ;  "  me« 
thinks  such  maidenly  mercy  is  rather  out  of  place." 

1  Albin  was  the  ancient  name  of  Scotland.  —  (1809.) 


LOCH   LOMOND.  149 

Wallace  turned  to  him  with  a  smile.  "  I  will  answer  you, 
my  valiant  friend,  by  adopting  your  own  figure.  It  is  that  these 
Southron  wolves  may  not  confound  us  with  themselves  that  I 
wish  to  show  in  our  conduct  rather  the  generous  ardor  of  the 
faithful  guardian  of  the  fold,  than  the  rapacious  fierceness 
which  equals  them  with  the  beasts  of  the  desert.  As  we  are 
men  and  Scots,  let  the  burden  of  our  prayers  be  the  preserve 
tion  of  our  country,  not  the  slaughter  of  our  enemies.  The  one 
is  an  ambition  with  which  angels  may  sympathize ;  the  other,  a 
horrible  desire  which  speaks  the  nature  of  fiends." 

"  In  some  cases  this  may  be,"  replied  Sir  Roger,  a  little 
reconciled  to  the  argument,  "but  not  in  mine.  My  injury 
yet  burns  upon  my  cheek,  and  as  nothing  but  the  life-blood 
of  Cressingham  can  quench  it,  I  will  listen  no  more  to  your 
doctrine  till  I  am  revenged.  That  done,  I  shall  not  forget 
your  lesson.'7 

"  Generous  Kirkpatrick  !  "  exclaimed  Wallace,  "  nothing  that 
is  really  cruel  can  dwell  with  such  manly  candor.  Say  what 
you  will,  I  can  trust  your  heart  after  this  moment." 

They  had  crossed  the  river  Ennerie,  and  were  issuing  from 
between  its  narrow  ridge  of  hills,  when  Wallace,  pointing  to 
a  stupendous  rock  which  rose  in  solitary  magnificence  in  the 
midst  of  a  vast  plain,  exclaimed,  "  There  is  Dumbarton  castle ; 
that  citadel  holds  the  fetters  of  Scotland,  and  if  we  break 
them  there,  every  minor  link  will  easily  give  way." 

The  men  uttered  a  shout  of  anticipated  triumph  at  this 
sight,  and  proceeding,  soon  came  in  view  of  the  fortifications 
which  helmeted  the  rock.  As  they  approached,  they  discov- 
ered that  it  had  two  summits,  being  in  a  manner  cleft  in 
twain,  the  one  side  rising  in  a  pyramidal  form,  while  the 
other,  of  a  more  table  shape,  sustained  the  ponderous  build- 
ings of  the  fortress. 

It  was  dusk  when  the  little  army  arrived  in  the  rear  of 
a  close  thicket  which  skirted  the  eastern  dyke  of  the  castle 
and  reached  to  a  considerable  length  over  the  plain.  On  this 
spot  Wallace  rested  his  men,  and  while  they  placed  them- 
selves under  its  covert  till  the  appointed  time  of  attack,  he 
perceived  through  an  opening  in  the  wood  the  gleaming  of 
soldiers'  arms  on  the  ramparts,  and  fires  beginning  to  light 
on  a  lonely  watch-tower  which  crowned  the  pinnacle  of  the 
highest  rock. 

*<  Poor  fools  ! "  exclaimed  Murray ;  "  like  the  rest  of  their 
brethren  of  clay,  they  look  abroad  for  evils,  and  prepare  not 
for  those  which  are  even  at  their  doors." 


150  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"That  beacon-fire,"  cried  Scrymgeour,  "  shall  light  us  to  their 
chambers,  and  for  once  we  thank  them  for  their  providence." 

"  That  beacon-fire,"  whispered  Edwin  to  Wallace,  "  shall 
light  me  to  honor.  To-night,  by  your  agreement,  I  shall  call 
you  brother,  or  lie  dead  on  the  summit  of  those  walls." 

"Edwin,"  said  Wallace,  "act  as  you  say,  and  deserve  not 
only  to  be  called  my  brother,  but  to  be  the  first  banneret  of  free- 
dom in  arms." 

He  then  turned  towards  the  lines,  and  giving  his  orders  to 
each  division,  directed  them  to  seek  repose  on  the  surrounding 
heather  till  the  now-glowing  moon  should  have  sunk  her  tell- 
tale light  in  the  waves. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

DUMBARTON    ROCK. 

ALL  obeyed  the  voice  of  their  commander  and  retired  to 
rest.  But  the  eyes  of  Edwin  could  not  close ;  his  eager  spirit 
was  already  on  the  walls  of  Dumbarton.  His  rapid  mind  antici- 
pated the  ascent  of  his  general  and  his  troop.  But  an  imagina- 
tion no  less  just  than  ardent  suggested  the  difficulties  attending 
so  small  a  force  assailing  so  formidable  a  garrison  without 
some  immediate  knowledge  of  its  relative  situations.  A  sudden 
thought  struck  him.  He  would  mount  that  rock  alone  ;  he  would 
seek  to  ascertain  the  place  of  Lord  Mar's  confinement,  that  not 
one  life  in  Wallace's  faithful  band  might  be  lost  in  a  vague 
search. 

u  Ah,  my  general ! "  exclaimed  he,  "  Edwin  shall  be  the  first 
to  spring  those  ramparts ;  he  shall  tread  that  dangerous  path 
alone;  an4  when  he  has  thus  proved  himself  not  unworthy  of 
thy  confidence,  he  will  return  to  lead  thee  and  thy  soldiers  to 
a  sure  victory,  and  himself  to  honor  by  thy  side." 

This  fervent  apostrophe,  breathed  to  the  night  alone,  was 
no  sooner  uttered  than  he  stole  from  the  thicket  into  which 
he  had  cast  himself  to  repose.  He  looked  towards  the  em- 
battled cliff;  its  summit  stood  bright  in  the  moonlight,  but 
deep  shadows  lay  beneath.  "  God  be  my  speed ! "  cried  he, 
and  wrapping  himself  in  his  plaid,  so  mixed  its  dark  hues 
with  the  weeds  and  herbage  at  the  base  of  the  rock,  that  he 
made  its  circuit  without  having  attracted  observation. 

The  south  side  seemed  the  most  easy  of  ascent,  and  by  that 


DUMBARTON   ROCK.  151 

he  began  his  daring  attempt.  Having  gained  the  height,  he 
clambered  behind  a  buttress,  the  shadow  of  which  cast  the 
wall  into  such  black  obscurity  that  he  crept  safely  through 
one  of  its  crenelles,  and  dropping  gently  inwards,  alighted  on 
his  feet.  Still  keeping  the  shadowed  side  of  the  battlements, 
he  proceeded  cautiously  along,  and  so  stilly  was  his  motion 
that  he  passed  undiscovered,  even  by  the  sentinels  who  guarded 
this  quarter  of  the  fortress. 

He  soon  arrived  at  the  open  square  before  the  citadel;  it 
was  yet  occupied  by  groups  of  Southron  officers,  gayly  walking 
to  and  fro  under  the  light  of  the  moon.  In  hopes  of  gaining 
some  useful  information  from  their  discourse,  he  concealed 
himself  behind  a  chest  of  arrows,  and  as  they  passed  back- 
wards and  forwards,  distinctly  heard  them  jesting  each  other 
about  divers  fair  denies  of  the  country  around.  The  conver- 
sation terminated  in  a  debate  whether  or  no  the  indifference 
which  their  governor,  De  Valence,  manifested  to  the  majestic 
beauties  of  the  Countess  of  Mar  were  real  or  assumed.  A 
thousand  free  remarks  were  made  on  the  subject,  and  Edwin 
gathered  sufficient  from  the  discourse  to  understand  that  the 
earl  and  countess  were  treated  severely,  and  confined  in  a 
large  square  tower  in  the  cleft  of  the  rock. 

Having  learnt  all  that  he  could  expect  from  these  officers, 
he  speeded,  under  the  friendly  shadow,  towards  the  other  side 
of  the  citadel,  and  arrived  just  as  the  guard  approached  to  re- 
lieve the  sentinels  of  the  northern  postern.  He  laid  himself 
close  to  the  ground,  and  happily  overheard  the  word  of  the 
night  as  it  was  given  to  the  new  watch.  This  providential 
circumstance  saved  his  life. 

Finding  no  mode  of  regress  from  this  place  but  by  the  post- 
ern at  which  the  sentinel  was  stationed,  or  by  attempting  a 
passage  through  a  small  adjoining  tower  the  door  of  which 
stood  open,  he  considered  a  moment,  and  then  deciding  for 
the  tower,  stole  unobserved  into  it.  Fortunately  no  person 
was  there  ;  but  Edwin  found  it  full  of  spare  arms,  with  two 
or  three  vacant  couches  in  different  corners,  where,  he  sup- 
posed, the  officers  on  guard  occasionally  reposed ;  several 
watch-cloaks  lay  on  the  floor.  He  readily  apprehended  the 
use  he  might  make  of  this  circumstance,  and  throwing  one  of 
them  over  his  own  shoulders,  climbed  to  a  large  embrasure  in 
the  wall,  and  forcing  himself  through  it,  dropped  to  a  de- 
clivity on  the  other  side  which  shelved  down  to  the  cliff, 
wherein  he  now  saw  the  square  tower. 

He  had  scarcely  lit   on   firm  ground  when  a  sentinel,  fol- 


152  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

lowed  by  two  others  with  presented  pikes,  approached  him  and 
demanded  the  word.  "Montjoy!"  was  his  reply.  "  Why  leap 
the  embrasure  ?  "  said  one.  "  Why  not  enter  by  the  postern?  " 
demanded  another.  The  conversation  of  the  officers  had  given 
him  a  hint  on  which  he  formed  his  answer.  "  Love,  my  brave 
comrades,"  replied  he,  "  seldom  chooses  even  ways.  I  go  on 
a  message  from  a  young  ensign  in  the  keep  to  one  of  the  Scot- 
tish damsels  in  yonder  tower.  Delay  me,  and  his  vengeance 
will  fall  upon  us  all." —  "  Good  luck  to  you,  my  lad  !  "  was  their 
answer,  and  with  a  lightened  step  he  hastened  towards  the 
tower. 

Not  deeming  it  safe  to  seek  an  interview  with  any  of  the 
earl's  family,  he  crept  along  the  base  of  the  structure  and 
across  the  works  till  he  reached  the  high  wall  that  blocks  up 
egress  from  the  north.  He  found  this  formidable  curtain  con- 
structed of  fragments  of  rock,  and  for  the  convenience  of  the 
guard,  a  sloping  platform  from  within  led  to  the  top  of  the 
wall.  On  the  other  side  it  was  perpendicular.  A  solitary 
sentinel  stood  there,  and  how  to  pass  him  was  Edwin's  next 
device.  To  attack  him  would  be  desperate,  being  one  of  a 
chain  of  guards  around  the  interior  of  the  fortress,  his  voice 
need -only  to  be  raised  in  the  least  to  call  a  regiment  to  his 
assistance,  and  Edwin  must  be  seized  on  the  instant. 

Aware  of  his  danger,  but  not  dismayed,  the  adventurous 
youth  bethought  him  of  his  former  excuse,  and  remembering 
a  flask  of  spirits  which  Ireland  had  put  into  his  pouch  on 
leaving  Glenfinlass,  he  affected  to  be  intoxicated,  and  stagger- 
ing up  to  the  man,  accosted  him  in  the  character  of  a  servant 
of  the  garrison. 

The  sentinel  did  not  doubt  the  appearance  of  the  boy,  and 
Edwin  holding  out  the  flask,  said  that  a  pretty  girl  in  the  great 
tower  had  not  only  given  him  a  long  draught  of  the  same 
good  liquor,  but  had  lilled  his  bottle  that  he  might  not  lack 
amusement  while  her  companion,  one  of  Lady  Mar's  maids- 
in-waiting,  was  tying  up  a  true  lover's  knot  to  send  to  his 
master  in  the  garrison.  The  man  believed  Edwin's  tale  the 
more  readily  as  he  thrust  the  flask  into  his  hand  and  bade 
him  drink.  "  Do  not  spare  it,  "  cried  he  ;  "  the  night  is  chilly, 
and  I  shall  get  more  where  that  came  from." 

The  unsuspecting  Southron  returned  him  a  merry  reply, 
and  putting  the  flask  to  his  head,  soon  drained  its  contents. 
They  had  the  effect  Edwin  desired.  The  soldier  became  flus- 
tered, and  impatient  of  his  duty.  Edwin  perceived  it,  and 
yawning,  complained  of  drowsiness.  "  I  would  go  to  the  top 


DUMBARTON   ROCK.  153 

of  that  wall  and  sleep  sweetly  in  the  moonbeams,"  said  he, 
"if  any  good-natured  fellow  would  meanwhile  wait  for  my 
pretty  Scot." 

The  half-inebriated  Southron  liked  no  better  sport ;  and  re- 
gardless of  duty,  he  promised  to  draw  nearer  the  tower,  and 
bring  from  the  fair  messenger  the  expected  token. 

Having  thus  far  gained  his  point,  with  an  apparently  stag- 
gering, but  really  agile  step,  Edwin  ascended  the  wall.  A 
leap  from  this  dizzy  height  was  his  only  way  to  rejoin  Wal- 
lace. To  retread  his  steps  through  the  fortress  in  safety 
would  hardly  be  possible ;  and  besides,  such  a  mode  of  retreat 
would  leave  him  uninformed  on  the  second  object  of  his  en- 
terprise :  to  know  the  most  valuable  side  of  the  fortress. 

He  threw  himself  along  the  summit  of  the  wall,  as  if  to 
sleep.  He  looked  down,  and  saw  nothing  but  the  blackness  of 
space ;  for  here  the  broad  expanse  of  shadow  rendered  rocks 
and  building  of  the  same  hue  and  level.  But  hope  buoyed 
him  in  her  arms ;  and  turning  his  eyes  towards  the  sentinel, 
he  observed  him  to  have  arrived  within  a  few  paces  of  the 
square  tower.  This  was  Edwin's  moment.  Grasping  the  pro- 
jecting stone  of  the  embattlement,  and  commending  himself  to 
Heaven,  he  threw  himself  from  its  summit,  and  fell,  a  fearful 
depth,  to  the  cliffs  beneath. 

Meanwhile.  Wallace,  having  seen  his  brave  followers  depart 
to  their  repose,  reclined  himself  along  a  pile  of  moss-grown 
stones,  which,  in  the  days  of  the  renowned  Fingal,  had  cov- 
ered the  body  of  some  valiant  Morven  chieftain.  He  fixed 
his  wakeful  eyes  on  the  castle,  now  illumined  in  every  part 
by  the  fulness  of  the  moon's  lustre,  and  considered  which 
point  would  be  most  assailable  by  the  scaling-ladders  he  had 
prepared.  Every  side  seemed  a  precipice.  The  Leven,  sur- 
rounding it  on  the  north  and  the  west ;  the  Clyde,  broad  as  a  sea, 
on  the  south.  The  only  place  that  seemed  at  all  accessible 
was  the  side  next  the  dyke  behind  which  he  lay.  Here  the 
ascent  to  the  castellated  part  of  the  rock,  because  most  per- 
pendicular, was  the  least  guarded  with  outworks,  and  by  this 
he  determined  to  make  the  attempt,  as  soon  as  the  setting  moon 
should  involve  the  garrison  in  darkness. 

While  he  yet  mused  on  what  might  be  the  momentous  con- 
sequences of  the  succeeding  midnight  hours,  he  thought  he 
heard  a  swift  though  cautious  footstep.  He  raised  himself, 
and  laying  his  hand  on  his  sword,  saw  a  figure  advancing  to- 
wards him. 

«  Who  goes  there  ?"  demanded  Wallace. 


154  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  A  faithful  Scot,"  was  the  reply. 

Wallace  recognized  the  voice  of  Edwin.  "  What  has  dis- 
turbed you  ?  Why  do  you  not  take  rest  with  the  others  ?  " 

"That  we  may  have  the  surer,  to-morrow,"  replied  the 
youth.  "  I  am  just  returned  from  the  summit  of  yonder  rock." 

"  How  ! "  interrupted  Wallace  ;  "  have  you  scaled  it  alone, 
and  are  returned  in  safety  ?  " 

Wallace  caught  him  in  his  arms.  "  Intrepid,  glorious  boy  ! 
tell  me  for  what  purpose  did  you  thus  hazard  your  precious 
life?" 

"  I  wished  to  learn  its  most  pregnable  part,"  replied  Edwin, 
his  young  heart  beating  with  triumph  at  these  encomiums 
from  his  commander ;  "  and  particularly  where  the  good  earl 
is  confined,  that  we  might  make  our  attack  directly  to  the 
point. " 

"  And  have  you  been  successful  ?  "  demanded  Wallace. 

"  I  have, "  was  his  answer.  "  Lord  Mar  and  his  lady  are 
kept  in  a  square  tower  which  stands  in  the  cleft  between  the 
two  summits  of  the  rock.  It  is  not  only  surrounded  by  em- 
battled walls,  which  flank  the  ponderous  buttresses  of  this 
huge  dungeon,  but  the  space  on  which  it  stands  is  bulwarked 
at  each  end  by  a  stone  curtain  of  fifteen  feet  high,  guarded  by 
turrets  full  of  armed  men." 

"  And  yet  by  that  side  you  suppose  we  must  ascend  ?  " 
said  Wallace. 

"  Certainly ;  for  if  you  attempt  it  on  the  west,  we  should 
have  to  scale  the  watch-tower  cliff,  and  the  ascent  could  only 
be  gained  in  file.  An  auxiliary  detachment,  to  attack  in  flank, 
might  succeed  there  ;  but  the  passage  being  so  narrow,  would 
be  too  tedious  for  the  whole  party  to  arrive  in  time.  Should 
we  take  the  south,  we  must  cut  through  the  whole  garrison 
before  we  could  reach  the  earl.  And  on  this  side,  the  morass 
lies  too  near  the  foot  of  the  rock  to  admit  an  approach  with- 
out the  greatest  danger.  But  on  the  north,  where  I  descended, 
by  wading  through  part  of  the  Leven,  and  climbing  from  cliff 
to  cliff,  I  have  every  hope  you  may  succeed." 

Edwin  recounted  the  particulars  of  his  progress  through  the 
fortress,  and  by  the  minuteness  of  his  topographical  descrip- 
tions enforced  his  arguments  for  the  north  to  be  the  point 
assailed.  Closing  his  narrative,  he  explained  to  the  anxious 
inquiry  of  Wallace,  how  he  had  escaped  accident  in  a  leap  of 
so  many  feet.  The  wall  was  covered  with  ivy;  he  caught  by 
its  branches  in  his  descent,  and  at  last  happily  fell  amongst  a 
thick  bed  of  furze.  After  this,  he  clambered  down  the  steep, 


THE    FORTRESS.  155 

and  fording  the  Leven,  there  only  knee-deep,  now  appeared 
before  his  general,  elate  in  heart  and  bright  in  valor. 

"  The  intrepidity  of  this  action, "  returned  Wallace,  glowing 
with  admiration  at  so  noble  a  daring  in  so  young  a  creature, 
"  merits  that  every  confidence  should  be  placed  in  the  result 
of  your  observations.  Your  safe  return  is  a  pledge  of  our  de- 
sign being  approved.  And  when  we  go  in  the  strength  of 
Heaven,  who  can  doubt  the  issue  ?  This  night,  when  the  Lord 
of  battles  puts  that  fortress  into  our  hands,  before  the  whole 
of  our  little  army  you  shall  receive  that  knighthood  you  have 
so  richly  deserved.  Such,  my  truly  dear  brother,  my  noble 
Edwin,  shall  be  the  reward  of  your  virtue  and  your  toil." 

Wallace  would  now  have  sent  him  to  repose  himself,  but 
animated  by  the  success  of  his  adventure,  and  exulting  in  the 
honor  which  was  so  soon  to  stamp  a  sign  of  this  exploit  upon 
him  forever,  he  told  his  leader  that  he  felt  no  want  of  sleep, 
and  would  rather  take  on  him  the  office  of  arousing  the  other 
captains  to  their  stations,  the  moon,  their  preconcerted  signal, 
being  then  approaching  its  rest. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    FORTRESS. 

KIRKPATRTCK,  Murray,  and  Scrymgeour  hastened  to  their 
commander,  and  in  a  few  minutes  all  were  under  arms.  Wal- 
lace briefly  explained  his  altered  plan  of  assault,  and  marshal- 
ing his  men  accordingly,  led  them  in  silence  through  the  water, 
and  along  the  beach  which  lay  between  the  rock  and  the 
Leven.  Arriving  at  the  base  just  as  the  moon  set,  they  began 
to  ascend.  To  do  this  in  the  dark  redoubled  the  difficulty ; 
but  as  Wallace  had  the  place  of  every  accessible  stone  accu- 
rately described  to  him  by  Edwin,  he  went  confidently  forward, 
followed  by  his  Lanarkmen. 

He  and  they,  being  the  first  to  mount,  fixed  and  held  the 
tops  of  the  scaling-ladders  while  Kirkpatrick  and  Scrymgeour, 
with  their  men,  gradually  ascended  and  gained  the  bottom  of 
the  wall.  Here,  planting  themselves  in  the  crannies  of  the 
rock,  under  the  impenetrable  darkness  of  the  night  —  for  the 
moon  had  not  only  set,  but  the  stars  were  obscured  by  clouds  — • . 
they  awaited  the  signal  for  the  final  ascent. 


156  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Meanwhile,  Edwin  led  Lord  Andrew  with  his  followers,  and 
the  Eraser  men,  round  by  the  western  side  to  mount  the 
watch-tower  rock,  and  seize  the  few  soldiers  who  kept  the  bea- 
con. As  a  signal  of  having  succeeded,  they  were  to  smother  the 
flame  on  the  top  of  the  tower,  and  thence  descend  towards  the 
garrison,  to  meet  Wallace  before  the  prison  of  the  Earl  of  Mar. 

While  the  men  of  Lanark,  with  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  burn- 
ing beacon,  in  deadly  stillness  watched  the  appointed  signal 
for  the  attack,  Wallace,  by  the  aid  of  his  dagger,  which  he 
struck  into  the  firm  soil  that  occupied  the  cracks  in  the  rock, 
drew  himself  up  almost  parallel  with  the  top  of  the  great  wall 
which  clasped  the  bases  of  the  two  hills.  He  listened ;  not  a 
voice  was  to  be  heard  in  the  garrison  of  all  the  legions  he  had 
so  lately  seen  glittering  on  its  battlements.  It  was  an  awful 
pause. 

Now  was  the  moment  when  Scotland  was  to  make  her  first 
essay  for  freedom.  Should  it  fail,  ten  thousand  bolts  of  iron 
would  be  added  to  her  chains.  Should  it  succeed,  liberty  and 
happiness  were  the  almost  certain  consequences. 

He  looked  up,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  beacon-flame, 
thought  he  saw  the  figures  of  men  pass  before  it ;  the  next  mo- 
ment all  was  darkness.  He  sprang  on  the  wall ;  and  feeling,  by 
the  touch  of  hands  about  his  feet,  that  his  brave  followers  had 
already  mounted  their  ladders,  he  grasped  his  sword  firmly 
and  leaped  down  on  the  ground  within.  In  that  moment  he 
struck  against  the  sentinel,  who  was  just  passing,  and  by  the 
violence  of  the  shock  struck  him  to  the  earth  ;  but  the  man,  as 
he  fell,  catching  Wallace  round  the  waist,  dragged  him  after 
him,  and  with  a  vociferous  cry  shouted  "  Treason  ! " 

Several  sentinels  ran  with  levelled  pikes  to  the  spot,  the  ad- 
jacent turrets  emptied  themselves  of  their  armed  inhabitants, 
and  all  assaulted  Wallace  just  as  he  had  extricated  himself 
from  the  grasp  of  the  prostrate  soldier. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  demanded  they. 

"  Your  enemy,"  and  the  speaker  fell  at  his  feet  with  one 
stroke  of  his  sword. 

"  Alarm  !  Treason ! "  resounded  from  the  rest,  as  they  aimed 
their  random  strokes  at  the  conquering  chief.  But  he  was  now 
assisted  by  the  vigorous  arm  of  Ker  and  of  several  Lanark- 
men,  who,  having  cleared  the  wall,  were  dealing  about  blows 
in  the  darkness  which  filled  the  air  with  groans  and  strewed 
the  ground  with  the  dying  and  the  dead. 

One  or  two  Southrons,  whose  courage  was  not  equal  to  their 
caution,  fled  to  arouse  the  garrison  j  and  just  as  the  whole  of 


THE    FORTRESS.  157 

Wallace's  men  leaped  the  wall  and  rallied  to  his  support,  the 
inner  ballium  gate  burst  open,  and  a  legion  of  foes,  bearing 
torches,  issued  to  the  contest.  With  horrible  threatenings 
they  came  on,  and  by  a  rapid  movement  surrounded  Wallace 
and  his  little  company.-  But  his  soul  brightened  in 'danger,  and 
his  men,  warmed  with  the  same  spirit,  stood  firm  with  fixed 
pikes,  receiving  without  injury  the  assault.  Their,  weapons 
being  longer  than  the  enemy's,  the  Southrons,  not  aware  of  the 
circumstance,  rushed  upon  their  points,  incurring  the  death 
they  meant  to  give.  Seeing  their  consequent  disorder,  Wallace 
ordered  the  pikes  to  be  dropped,  and  his  men  to  charge  sword 
in  hand.  Terrible  was  now  the  havoc  ;  for  the  desperate  Scots, 
grappling  each  to  his  foe  with  a  fatal  hold,  let  not  go  till  the 
piercing  shriek  or  the  agonized  groan  convinced  him  that 
death  had  seized  its  victim.  Wallace  fought  in  front,  making 
a  dreadful  passage  through  the  falling  ranks,  while  the  tre- 
mendous sweep  of  his  sword,  flashing  in  the  intermitting  light, 
warned  the  survivors  where  the  avenging  blade  would  next  de- 
scend. A  horrid  vacuity  was  made  in  the  lately  thronged  spot ; 
it  seemed  not  the  slaughter  of  a  mortal  arm,  but  as  if  the  de- 
stroying angel  himself  were  there,  and  with  one  blast  of  his 
desolating  brand  had  laid  all  in  ruin.  The  platform  was 
cleared ;  and  the  fallen  torches,  some  half-extinguished,  and 
others  flaming  on  the  ground  by  the  sides  of  the  dead,  showed 
in  their  uncertain  gleams  a  few  terrified  wretches  si  eking 
safety  in  flight.  The  same  lurid  rays,  casting  a  transitory  light 
on  the  iron  gratings  of  the  great  tower,  informed  Wallace  that 
the  heat  of  conflict  had  drawn  him-  to  the  prison  of  the  earl. 

"  We  are  now  near  the  end  of  this  night's  work, "  cried  he. 
"  Let  us  press  forward,  to  give  freedom  to  the  Earl  of  Mar." 

"Liberty  and  Lord  Mar!"  cried  Kirkpatrick,  rushing  on° 
ward.  He  was  immediately  followed  by  his  own  men,  but  not 
quick  enough  for  his  daring.  The  guard  in  the  tower,  hearing 
the  outcry,  issued  from  the  flanking  gates,  and,  surrounding 
him,  took  him  prisoner. 

"  If  there  be  might  in  your  arms,"  roared  he  with  the  voice 
of  a  lion,  "  men  of  Loch  Doine,  rescue  your  leader  !  " 

They  hurried  forward  with  yells  of  defiance,  but  the  strength 
of  the  garrison,  awakened  by  the  flying  wretches  from  the  de- 
feat, turned  out  all  its  power,  and,  with  De  Valence  at  their 
head,  pouring  on  Kirkpatrick's  men,  would  have  overpowered 
them  had  not  Wallace  and  his  sixty  heroes,  with  desperate  de- 
termination, cut  a  passage  to  them  through  the  closing  ranks. 

Pikes  struck  against  corselets,  swords  rung  on  helmets,  and 


158  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  ponderous  battle-axe,  falling  with,  the  weight  of  fate,  cleft 
the  uplifted  target  in  twain.  Blood  spouted  on  every  side, 
and  the  dripping  hands  of  Kirk  pat  rick,  as  Wallace  tore  him 
from  the  enemy,  proclaimed  that  he  had  bathed  his  vengeance 
in  the  stream.  On  being  released,  he  shook  his  ensanguined 
arms,  and  burst  into  a  horrid  laugh.  "  The  work  speeds  !  Now 
through  the  heart  of  the  governor ! " 

Even  while  he  spoke  Wallace  lost  him  again  from  his  side  ; 
and  again,  by  the  shouts  of  the  Southrons,  who  cried,  "  No 
quarter  for  the  rebel ! "  he  learnt  he  must  be  retaken.  That 
merciless  cry  was  the  death-bell  of  their  own  doom.  It  di- 
rected Wallace  to  the  spot,  and  throwing  himself  and  his  breth- 
ren of  Lanark  into  the  midst  of  the  band  which  held  the  pris- 
oner, Kirkpatrick  was  again  rescued.  But  thousands  seemed 
now  surrounding  the  chief  himself.  To  do  this  generous  deed 
he  had  advanced  farther  than  he  ought ;  and  himself  and  his 
brave  followers  must  have  been  slain  had  he  not  recoiled  back, 
and,  covering  their  rear  with  the  great  tower,  all  who  had  the 
hardihood  to  approach  fell  under  the  weight  of  the  Scottish 
claymore. 

Scrymgeour,  at  the  head  of  the  Loch  Doine  men,  in  vain  at- 
tempted to  reach  this  contending  party ;  and  fearful  of  losing 
the  royal  standard,  he  was  turning  to  make  a  valiant  retreat, 
when  Murray  and  Edwin,  having  disengaged  their  followers 
from  the  precipices  of  the  beacon  rock,  rushed'  into  the  fray, 
striking  their  shields  and  uttering  the  inspiring  slogan  of  "  Wal- 
lace and  freedom ! "  It  was  reechoed  by  every  Scot ;  those 
that  were  flying  returned ;  they  who  sustained  the  conflict  hailed 
the  cry  with  braced  sinews ;  and  the  terrible  thunder  of  the 
word  pealing  from  rank  to  rank  struck  a  terror  into  De  Val- 
ence's men  which  made  them  pause.  The  extinction  of  the 
beacon  made  them  still  more  aghast. 

On  that  short  moment  turned  the  crisis  of  their  fate.  Wal- 
lace cut  his  way  forward  through  the  dismayed  SouthronSj 
who,  hearing  the  reiterated  shouts  of  the  fresh  reinforcement, 
knew  not  whether  its  strength  might  not  be  thousands  instead 
of  hundreds,  and,  panic-struck,  they  became  an  easier  prey  to 
their  enemies.  Surrounded,  mixed  with  their  assailants,  they 
knew  not  friends  from  foes  ;  and  each  individual  being  bent  on 
flight,  they  indiscriminately  cut  to  right  and  left,  wounding  as 
many  of  their  own  men  as  of  the  Scots  ;  and  finally,  after 
slaughtering  half  their  companions,  some  few  escaped  through 
the  small  posterns  of  the  garrison,  leaving  the  inner  ballia  en- 
tirely in  possession  of  the  foe. 


THE   FORTRESS.  159 

The  whole  of  the  field  being  cleared,  Wallace  ordered  the 
tower  to  be  forced.  A  strong  guard  was  still  within,  and  as 
the  assailants  drew  near,  every  means  were  used  to  render  their 
assaults  abortive.  As  the  Scots  pressed  to  the  main  entrance, 
stones  and  heavy  metals  were  thrown  upon  their  heads ;  but 
not  in  the  least  intimidated,  they  stood  beneath  the  iron  shower 
till  Wallace  ordered  them  to  drive  a  large  felled  tree,  which 
lay  on  the  ground,  against  the  hinges  of  the  door :  it  burst 
open,  and  the  whole  party  rushed  into  the  hall. 

A  short,  sanguinary,  but  decisive  conflict  took  place.  The 
hauberk  and  plaid  of  Wallace  were  dyed  from  head  to  foot ;  his 
own  brave  blood  and  the  ferocious  stream  from  his  enemies 
mingled  with  one  horrid  hue  upon  his  garments. 

"  Wallace !  Wallace !  "  cried  the  stentorian  lungs  of  Kirk- 
patrick.  In  a  moment  Wallace  was  at  his  side  and  found  him 
wrestling  with  two  men.  The  light  of  a  single  lamp  suspended 
from  the  rafters  fell  direct  upon  the  combatants,  A  dagger 
was  pointed  at  the  life  of  the  old  knight,  but  Wallace  laid  the 
holder  of  it  dead  across  the  body  of  his  intended  victim,  and 
catching  the  other  assailant  by  the  throat,  threw  him  prostrate 
to  the  ground. 

"  Spare  me,  for  the  honor  of  knighthood  !  "  cried  the  con- 
quered. 

"  For  my  honor,  you  shall  die  !  "  cried  Kirkpatrick.  His 
sword  was  already  at  the  heart  of  the  Englishman.  Wallace 
beat  it  back.  "  Kirkpatrick,  he  is  my  prisoner,  and  I  give  him 
life." 

"  You  know  not  what  you  do,"  cried  the  old  knight,  strug- 
gling with  Wallace  to  release  his  sword-arm.  "This  is  De 
Valence!" 

"  Quarter ! "  reiterated  the  panting  and  hard-pressed  earl. 
"  Noble  Wallace,  my  life,  for  I  am  wounded  ! " 

"  Sooner  take  my  own,"  cried  the  determined  Kirkpatrick, 
fixing  his  foot  on  the  neck  of  the  prostrate  man,  and  trying  to 
wrench  his  hand  from  the  grasp  of  his  commander. 

"  Shame  !  "  cried  Wallace  ;  "  you  must  strike  through  me  to 
kill  any  wounded  man  I  hear  cry  for  quarter.  Release  the 
earl,  for  your  own  honor." 

"  Our  safety  lies  in  his  destruction,"  cried  Kirkpatrick;  and, 
enraged  at  opposition,  he  thrust  his  commander,  little  expect- 
ing such  an  action,  from  off  the  body  of  the  earl.  De  Valence 
seized  his  advantage,  and  catching  Kirkpatrick  by  the  limb 
that  pressed  on  him,  overthrew  him,  and  by  a  sudden  spring, 
turning  quickly  on  Wallace,  struck  his  dagger  into  his  sida 


160  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

All  this  was  done  in  an  instant.  Wallace  did  not  fall,  but, 
staggering  with  the  weapon  sticking  in  the  wound,  he  was  so 
surprised  by  the  baseness  of  the  deed  he  could  not  give  the 
alarm  till  its  perpetrator  had  disappeared. 

The  flying  earl  took  his  course  through  a  narrow  passage 
between  the  works,  and  proceeding  swiftly  towards  the  south, 
issued  safely  at  one  of  the  outer  ballium  gates,  that  part  of 
the  castle  being  now  solitary,  all  the  men  having  been  drawn 
from  the  walls  to  the  contest  within,  and  thence  he  made  his 
escape  in  a  fisher's  boat  across  the  Clyde. 

Meanwhile,  Wallace  having  recovered  himself,  just  as  the 
Scots  brought  in  lighted  torches  from  the  lower  apartments  of 
the  tower,  saw  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick  leaning  sternly  on  his 
blood-dripping  sword,  and  the  young  Edwin  coming  forward  in 
garments  too  nearly  the  hue  of  his  own.  Andrew  Murray 
stood  already  by  his  side.  Wallace's  hand  was  upon  the  hilt 
of  the  dagger  which  the  ungrateful  De  Valence  had  left  in  his 
breast.  "  You  are  wounded,  you  are  slain ! "  cried  Murray,  in  a 
voice  of  consternation.  Edwin  stood  motionless  with  horror. 

"  That  dagger,"  exclaimed  Scrymgeour  — 

"Has  done  nothing,"  replied  Wallace,  "  but  let  me  a  little 
more  blood."  As  he  spoke  he  drew  it  out,  and  thrusting 
the  corner  of  his  scarf  into  his  bosom,  stanched  the  wound. 

"  So  is  your  mercy  rewarded,"  exclaimed  Kirkpatrick. 

"  So  I  am  true  to  a  soldier's  duty,"  returned  Wallace, 
"  though  De  Valence  is  a  traitor  to  his." 

"  You  treated  him  as  a  man,"  replied  Kirkpatrick ;  "  but  now 
you  find  him  a  treacherous  fiend." 

"Your  eagerness,  my  brave  friend,"  returned  Wallace,  "has 
lost  him  as  a  prisoner.  If  not  for  humanity  or  honor,  for  policy's 
sake,  we  ought  to  have  spared  his  life,  and  detained  him  an 
hostage  for  our  own  countrymen  in  England." 

Kirkpatrick  remembered  how  his  violence  had  released  the 
earl,  and  he  looked  down  abashed.  Wallace,-  perceiving  it, 
continued,  "  But  let  us  not  abuse  our  time  discoursing  on  a 
coward.  He  is  gone,  the  fortress  is  ours,  and  our  first  meas- 
ure must  be  to  guard  it  from  surprise." 

As  he  spoke  his  eyes  fell  upon  Edwin,  who,  having  re- 
covered from  the  shock  of  Murray's  exclamation,  had  brought 
forward  the  surgeon  of  their  little  band.  A  few  minutes 
bound  up  the  wounds  of  their  chief,  even  while  beckoning  the 
anxious  boy  towards  him.  "Brave  youth."  cried  he,  "you 
who  at  the  imminent  risk  of  your  own  life  explored  these 
heights  that  you  might  ren4er  our  ascent  more  sure,  you  who 


THE    FORTRESS.  161 

have  fought  like  a  young  lion  in  this  unequal  contest,  here,  in 
the  face  of  all  your  valiant  comrades,  receive  that  knight- 
hood which  rather  derives  lustre  from  your  virtues  than 
gives  additional  consequence  to  your  name." 

With  a  bounding  heart  Edwin  bent  his  knee,  and  Wallace 
giving  him  the  hallowed  accolade,1  the  young  knight  rose  from 
his  position  with  all  the  roses  of  his  springing  fame  glowing 
in  his  countenance.  Scrymgeour  presented  him  the  knightly 
girdle,2  which  he  unbraced  from  his  own  loins ;  and  while  the 
happy  boy  received  the  sword  to  which  it  was  attached  he 
exclaimed  with  animation,  "  While  I  follow  the  example  before 
my  eyes  I  shall  never  draw  this  in  an  unjust  cause,  nor  ever 
sheathe  it  in  a  just  one." 

"  Go,  then,"  returned  Wallace,  smiling  his  approval  of  this 
sentiment ;  "  while  work  is  to  be  done  I  will  keep  my  knight  to 
the  toil ;  go,  and  with  twenty  men  of  Lanark,  guard  the  wall 
by  which  we  ascended." 

Edwin  disappeared,  and  Wallace,  having  despatched  detach- 
ments to  occupy  other  parts  of  the  garrison,  took  a  torch  in  his 
hand,  and  turning  to  Murray  proposed  seeking  the  Earl  of  Mar. 
Lord  Andrew  was  soon  at  the  iron  door  which  led  from  the 
hall  to  the  principal  stairs. 

"  We  must  have  our  friendly  battering-ram  here,"  cried  he  ; 
"  a  close  prisoner  do  they  indeed  keep  my  uncle,  when  even  the 
inner  doors  are  bolted  on  him." 

The  men  dragged  the  tree  forward,  and  striking  it  against 
the  iron  it  burst  open  with  the  noise  of  thunder.  Shrieks  from 
within  followed  the  sound.  The  women  of  Lady  Mar,  not 
knowing  what  to  suppose  during  the  uproar  of  the  conflict, 
now  hearing  the  door  forced  expected  nothing  less  than  that 
some  new  enemies  were  advancing,  and  giving  themselves  up 
to  despair  they  flew  into  the  room  where  the  countess  sat  in 
equal  though  less  clamorous  terror. 

At  the  shouts  of  the  Scots  when  they  began  the  attack  the 
earl  had  started  from  his  couch.  "That  is  not  peace,"  said 
he ;  "  there  is  some  surprise." 

"  Alas,  from  whom  ?  "  returned  Lady  Mar ;  "  who  would 
venture  to  attack  a  fortress  like  this  garrisoned  with  thou- 
sands ?  " 

The  cry  was  repeated. 

"  It  is  the  slogan  of  Sir  William  Wallace  ! "  cried  he ;  "I 
shall  be  free  !  Oh  for  a  sword  !  Hear,  hear !  " 

1  Accolade,  the  three  strokes  of  the  sword  given  in  knighting. 

*  It  was  the  custom  in  Scotland  on  investing  a  knight  to  present  him,  along  with  the 
sword  and  consecrated  spurs,  a  girdle  of  the  same  sanctity.  —  (1809.) 
VOL.  I.  — 11  • 


162  THE    SCOTTISH   CHIEFS. 

As  the  shouts  redoubled  and  mingled  with  the  various  clan- 
gors of  battle  drew  nearer  the  tower,  the  impatience  of  the 
earl  could  not  be  restrained.  Hope  and  eagerness  seemed  to 
have  dried  up  his  wounds  and  new-strung  every  nerve,  while, 
unarmed  as  he  was,  he  rushed  from  the  apartment  and  hurried 
down  the  stairs  which  led  to  the  iron  door.  He  found  it  so 
firmly  fastened  by  bars  and  padlocks  he  could  not  move  it. 
Again  he  ascended  to  his  terrified  wife,  who,  conscious  how 
little  obligation  Wallace  owed  to  her,  perhaps  dreaded  ever 
more  to  see  her  husband's  hopes  realized  than  to  find  herself 
yet  more  rigidly  the  prisoner  of  the  haughty  De  Valence. 

"  Joanna,"  cried  he,  "  the  arm  of  God  is  with  us !  My 
prayers  are  heard ;  Scotland  will  yet  be  free  !  Hear  those 
groans,  —  those  shouts  !  Victory  !  Victory  !  " 

As  he  thus  echoed  the  cry  of  triumph  uttered  by  the  Scots 
when  bursting  open  the  outer  gate  of  the  tower,  the  founda- 
tions of  the  building  shook,  and  Lady  Mar,  almost  insensible 
with  terror,  received  the  exhausted  body  of  her  husband  into 
her  arms  ;  he  fainted  from  the  transport  his  weakened  frame 
was  unable  to  bear.  Soon  after  this  the  stair  door  was  forced, 
and  the  panic-struck  women  ran  shrieking  into  the  room  to 
their  mistress. 

The  countess  could  not  speak,  but  sat  pale  and  motionless, 
supporting  his  head  on  her  bosom.  Guided  by  the  noise, 
Lord  Andrew  flew  into  the  room,  and  rushing  towards  his 
uncle,  fell  at  his  feet.  "  Liberty !  Liberty ! "  was  all  he 
could  say.  His  words  pierced  the  ear  of  the  earl  like  a 
voice  from  heaven,  and  looking  up,  without  a  word  he  threw 
his  arms  round  the  neck  of  his  nephew. 

Tears  relieved  the  contending  feelings  of  the  countess,  and 
the  women,  recognizing  the  young  Lord  of  Both  well,  retired  into 
a  distant  corner,  well  assured  they  had  now  no  cause  for  fear. 

The  earl  rested  but  a  moment  on  the  panting  breast  of 
his  nephew,  when,  gazing  round  to  seek  the  mighty  leader 
of  the  band,  he  saw  Wallace  enter  with  the  step  of  secur- 
ity, and  triumph  in  his  eyes. 

"Ever  my  deliverer!"  cried  the  venerable  Mar,  stretch- 
ing forth  his  arms.  The  next  instant  he  held  Wallace  to 
his  breast,  arid  remembering  all  that  he  had  lost  for  his  sake 
since  they  parted,  a  soldier's  heart  melted,  and  he  burst  into 
tears.  "  Wallace,  my  preserver,  thou  victim  for  Scotland  and 
for  me,  or  rather  thou  chosen  of  Heaven,  who,  by  the  sacrifice 
of  all  thou  didst  hold  dear  on  earth,  art  made  a  blessing  to 
thy  country,  receive  my  thanks  and  iny  heart !  " 


THE    FORTRESS.  163 

Wallace  felt  all  in  his  soul  which  the  earl  meant  to 
imply,  but  recovering  the  calmed  tone  of  his  mind  before 
he  was  released  from  the  embrace  of  his  friend,  when  he 
raised  himself  and  replied  to  the  acknowledgments  of  the 
countess,  it  was  with  a  serene  though  glowing  countenance. 

She,  when  she  had  glanced  from  the  eager  entrance  and 
action  of  her  nephew  to  the  advancing  hero,  looked  as 
Venus  did  when  she  beheld  the  god  of  war  rise  from  a 
field  of  blood.  She  started  at  the  appearance  of  Wallace ; 
but  it  was 'not  his  garments  dropping  gore,  nor  the  blood- 
stained falchion  in  his  hand,  that  caused  the  new  sensation : 
it  was  the  figure,  breathing  youth  and  manhood ;  it  was  the 
face,  where  every  noble  passion  of  the  heart  had  stamped 
themselves  on  his  perfect  features ;  it  was  his  air,  where 
majesty  and  sweet  entrancing  grace  mingled  in  manly  union. 
They  were  all  these  that  struck  at  once  upon  the  sight  of 
Lady  Mar  and  made  her  exclaim  within  herself,  "  This  is 
a  wonder  of  man !  This  is  the  hero  that  is  to  humble 
Edward !  —  to  bless  —  whom  ?  "  was  her  thought.  "  Oh, 
no  woman !  "  Let  him  be  a  creature  enshrined  and  Holy, 
for  no  female  heart  to  dare  to  love." 

This  passed  through  the  mind  of  the  countess  in  less 
time  than  it  has  been  repeated,  and  when  she  saw  him 
clasped  in  her  husband's  arms,  she  exclaimed  to  herself, 
"  Helen,  thou  wert  right ;  thy  gratitude  was  prophetic  of 
a  matchless  object,  while  I,  wretch  that  I  was,  even  whis- 
pered the  wish  to  my  traitress  heart,  while  I  gave  informa- 
tion against  my  husband,  that  this  man,  the  cause  of  all, 
might  be  secured  or  slain." 

Just  as  the  last  idea  struck  her,  Wallace  rose  from  the  em- 
brace of  his  venerable  friend  and  met  the  riveted  eye  of  the 
countess.  She  stammered  forth  a  few  expressions  of  obli- 
gation ;  he  attributed  her  confusion  to  the  surprise  of  the 
moment,  and  replying  to  her  respectfully,  turned  again  to 
the  earl. 

The  joy  of  the  venerable  chief  was  unbounded  when  he 
found  that  a  handful  of  Scots  had  put  two  thousand  South- 
rons to  flight,  and  gained  entire  possession  of  the  castle. 
Wallace,  having  satisfied  the  anxious  questions  of  his  noble 
auditor,  gladly  perceived  the  morning  light.  He  rose  from 
his  seat.  "  I  shall  take  a  temporary  leave  of  you,  my  lord," 
said  he  to  the  earl.  "  I  must  now  visit  my  brave  comrades 
at-  their  posts,  and  see  the  colors  of  Scotland  planted  on 
the  citadel." 


lt>4  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE    GREAT    TOWER. 

WHEN  Wallace  withdrew,  Lady  Mar,  who  had  detained 
Murray,  whispered  to  him,  while  a  blush  stained  her  cheek, 
that  she  should  like  to  be  present  at  the  planting  of  the  stand- 
ard. Lord  Mar  declared  his  willingness  to  accompany  her  to 
the  spot,  and  added,  "  I  can  be  supported  thither  by  the  arm 
of  Andrew."  Murray  hesitated.  "  It  will  be  impossible  for 
my  aunt  to  go;  the  hall  below  and  the  ground  before  the 
tower  are  covered  with  slain." 

"Let  them  be  cleared  away,"  cried  she,  "for  I  cannot  con- 
sent to  be  deprived  of  a  spectacle  so  honorable  to  my  country." 

Murray  regarded  the  pitiless  indifference  with  which  she 
gave  this  order  with  amazement.  "  To  do  that,  madam,"  said 
he,  "  is  beyond  my  power ;  the  whole  ceremony  of  the  colors 
would  be  completed  long  before  I  could  clear  the  earth  of 
half  its  bleeding  load.  I  will  seek  a  passage  for  you  by  some 
other  way." 

Before  the  earl  could  make  a  remark,  Murray  had  disap- 
peared, and  after  exploring  the  lower  part  of  the  tower  in 
unavailing  search  for  a  way,  he  met  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick  issu- 
ing from  a  small  door,  which,  being  in  shadow,  he  had  hitherto 
overlooked.  It  led  through  the  ballium  to  the  platform  before 
the  citadel.  Lord  Andrew  returned  to  his  uncle  and  aunt,  and 
informing  them  of  this  discovery,  gave  his  arm  to  Lord  Mar, 
while  Kirkpatrick  led  forward  the  agitated  countess.  At  this 
moment  the  sun  rose  behind  the  purple  summit  of  Ben 
Lomond. 

When  they  approached  the  citadel,  Wallace  and  Sir  Alex- 
ander Scrymgeour  had  just  gained  its  summit.  The  standard 
of  Edward  was  yet  flying.  Wallace  looked  at  it  for  a  moment, 
then  laying  his  hand  on  the  staff,  "  Down,  thou  red  dragon," 
cried  he,  "  and  learn  to  bow  before  the  Giver  of  all  victory !  " 
Even  while  speaking  he  rent  it  from  the  roof,  and  casting  it 
over  the  battlements,  planted  the  Lion  of  Scotland  in  its 
stead. 

As  its  vast  evolvements  floated  on  the  air,  the  cry  of  triumph, 
the  loud  clarion  of  honest  triumph,  burst  from  every  heart, 
horn,  and  trumpet  below.  It  was  a  shout  that  pierced  the 
skies  and  entered  the  soul  of  Wallace  with  a  bliss  which 
seemed  a  promise  of  immortality. 


THE    GREAT    TOWER.  165 

"  0  God  !  "  cried  he,  still  grasping  the  staff  and  looking  up 
to  heaven,  "  we  got  not  this  in  possession  through  our  own 
might,  but  thy  right  hand  and  the  light  of  thy  countenance 
overthrew  the  enemy  !  Thine  the  conquest,  thine  the  glory  ! " 

"  Thus  we  consecrate  the  day  to  thee,  Power  of  heaven  ! " 
rejoined  Scrymgeour;  "and  let  this  standard  be  thine  own, 
and  whithersoever  we  bear  it,  may  we  ever  find  it  as  the  ark  of 
our  God." 

Wallace,  feeling  as  if  no  eye  looked  on  them  but  that  of 
Heaven,  dropped  on  his  knee,  and  rising  again,  took  Sir  Alex- 
ander by  the  hand.  "  My  brave  friend,"  said  he,  "  we  have 
here  planted  the  tree  of  freedom  in  Scotland.  Should  I  die  in 
its  defence,  swear  to  bury  me  under  its  branches;  swear  that 
no  enslaved  ground  shall  cover  my  remains." 

"  I  swear,"  cried  Scrymgeour,  laying  his  crossed  hands  upon 
the  arm  of  Wallace,  — "  I  swear  with  a  double  vow :  by  the  blood 
of  my  brave  ancestors,  whose  valor  gave  me  the  name  I  bear; 
by  the  cross  of  Saint  Andrew,  and  by  your  valiant  self,  never 
to  sheathe  my  sword,  while  I  have  life  in  my  body,  until 
Scotland  be  entirely  free  !  " 

The  colors  fixed,  Wallace  and  his  brave  colleague  descended 
the  tower,  and  perceiving  the  earl  and  countess,  who  sat  on  a 
stone  bench  at  the  end  of  a  platform,  approached  them.  The 
countess  rose  as  the  chiefs  drew  near.  Lord  Mar  took  his 
friend  by  the  hand,  with  a  gratulation  in  his  eyes  that  was 
unutterable ;  his  lady  spoke,  hardly  conscious  of  what  she  said ; 
and  Wallace,  after  a  few  minutes'  discourse,  proposed  to  the 
earl  to  retire  with  Lady  Mar  into  the  citadel,  where  she  would 
be  more  suitably  lodged  than  in  their  late  prison.  Lord  Mar 
was- obeying  this  movement,  when,  suddenly  stopping,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  But  where  is  that  wondrous  boy  —  your  pilot  over 
these  perilous  rocks  ?  Let  me  give  him  a  soldier's  thanks." 

Happy  at  so  grateful  a  demand,  Wallace  beckoned  Edwin, 
who,  just  relieved  from  his  guard,  was  standing  at  some  dis- 
tance. "Here,"  said  he,  "is  my  knight  of  fifteen,  for  last 
night  he  proved  himself  more  worthy  of  his  spurs  than  many 
a  man  who  has  received  them  from  a  king." 

"  He  shall  wear  those  of  a  king,"  rejoined  the  Lord  Mar, 
unbuckling  from  his  feet  a  pair  of  golden  spurs.  "  These  were 
fastened  on  my  heels  by  our  great  King  Alexander,  at  the 
battle  of  Largs.  I  had  intended  them  for  my  only  son ;  but 
the  first  knight  in  the  cause  of  rescued  Scotland  is  the  son  of 
iny  heart  and  soul." 

As  he  spoke  he  would  have  pressed  the  young  hero  to  his 


166  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

breast,  but  Edwin,  trembling  with  emotion,  slid  down  upon  his 
knees,  and  clasping  the  earl's  hand,  said  in  a  hardly  audible 
voice,  "  Receive  and  pardon  the  truant  son  of  your  sister 
Kuthven." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  veteran,  "  is  it  Edward  Ruthven 
that  has  brought  me  this  weight  of  honor  ?  Come  to  my  arms, 
thou  dearest  child  of  my  dearest  Janet ! " 

The  uncle  and  nephew  were  folded  in  each  other's  embrace. 
Lady  Mar  wept,  and  Wallace,  unable  to  bear  the  remembrance 
which  such  a  scene  pressed  upon  his  heart,  turned  away 
towards  the  battlements.  Edwin  murmured  a  short  explana- 
tion in  the  ear  of  his  uncle,  and  then  rising  from  his  arms, 
with  his  beautiful  face  glittering  like  an  April  day  in  tears, 
allowed  his  gay  cousin  Murray  to  buckle  the  royal  spurs  on  his 
feet.  The  rite  over,  he  kissed  Lord  Andrew's  hand,  in  token 
of  acknowledgment,  and  called  on  Sir  William  Wallace  to  bless 
the  new  honors  conferred  on  his  knight. 

Wallace  turned  towards  Edwin  with  a  smile  which  partook 
more  of  heaven  than  earth.  "Have  we  not  performed  our 
mutual  promises  ? "  said  he.  "  I  brought  you  to  the  spot 
where  you  were  to  reveal  your  name,  and  you  have  declared  it 
to  me  by  the  voice  of  glory.  Come,  then,  my  brother,  let  us 
leave  your  uncle  awhile  to  seek  his  repose." 

As  he  spoke  he  bowed  to  the  countess,  and  Edwin  joyfully 
receiving  his  arm,  they  walked  together  towards  the  eastern 
postern. 

Agitated  with  the  delightful  surprise  of  thus  meeting  his 
favorite  sister's  son  (whom  he  had  never  seen  since  his  in- 
fancy), and  exhausted  by  the  variety  of  his  late  emotions,  the 
earl  readily  acquiesced  in  a  proposal  for  rest,  and  leaning  on 
Lord  Andrew  proceeded  to  the  citadel. 

The  countess  had  other  attractions  :  lingering  at  the  side  of 
the  rough  knight  of  Torthorald,  she  looked  back,  and  when  she 
saw  the  object  of  her  gaze  disappear  through  the  gates,  she 
sighed ;  and  turning  to  her  conductor  walked  by  him  in  silence, 
till  they  joined  her  husband  in  the  hall  of  the  keep.  Murray 
led  the  way  into  the  apartments  lately  occupied  by  De  Valence. 
They  were  furnished  with  all  the  luxury  of  a  Southron  noble- 
man. Lady  Mar  cast  her  eyes  around  the  splendid  chamber, 
and  seated  herself  on  one  of  its  tapestried  couches.  The  earl, 
not  marking  whether  it  were  silk  or  rushes,  placed  himself 
beside  her.  Murray  drew  a  stool  towards  them,  while  Kirk- 
patrick,  tired  of  his  gallant  duty,  abruptly  took  his  leave. 

"My  dear  Andrew,"  said  the  earl,  "in  the  midst  of  this 


THE    GREAT    TOWER.  167 

proud  rejoicing  there  is  yet  a  canker  at  my  heart.  Tell  me 
that  when  my  beloved  Helen  disappeared  in  the  tumult  at 
Both  well  she  was  under  your  protection  ?  " 

"She  was,"  replied  Murray,  "and  I  thank  the  holy  Saint 
Fillan  she  is  now  in  the  sanctuary  of  his  church." 

Murray  then  recounted  to  his  relieved  uncle  every  event, 
from  the  moment  of  his  withdrawing  behind  the  arras  to  that 
of  his  confiding  the  English  soldier  with  the  iron  box  to  the 
care  of  the  prior.  Lord  Mar  sighed  heavily  when  he  spoke  of 
that  mysterious  casket.  "  Whatever  it  contain,"  said  he,  "  it 
has  drawn  after  it  much  evil  and  much  good.  The  domestic 
peace  of  Wallace  was  ruined  by  it,  and  the  spirit  which  now 
restores  Scotland  to  herself  was  raised  by  his  wrongs." 

"  But  tell  me,"  added  he,  u  do  you  think  my  daughter  safe 
so  near  a  garrison  of  the  enemy  ?  " 

"  Surely,  my  lord,"  cried  the  countess,  too  well  remember- 
ing the  enthusiasm  with  which  Helen  had  regarded  even  the 
unknown  Wallace,  —  "  surely  you  would  not  bring  that  tender 
child  into  a  scene  like  this.  Rather  send  a  messenger  to  con- 
vey her  secretly  to  Thirlestan ; .  at  that  distance  she  will  be 
safe,  and  under  the  powerful  protection  of  her  grandfather." 

The  earl  acquiesced  in  her  opinion,  and  saying  he  would 
consult  with  Wallace  about  the  securest  mode  of  travel  for  his 
daughter,  again  turned  to  Lord  Andrew  to  learn  further  of 
their  late  proceedings.  But  the  countess,  still  uneasy,  once 
more  interrupted  him. 

"  Alas !  my  lord,  what  would  you  do  ?  His  generous  zeal 
will  offer  to  go  in  person  for  your  daughter.  We  know  not 
what  dangers  he  might  then  incur,  and  surely  the  champion  of 
Scotland  is  not  to  be  thrown  into  peril  for  any  domestic  con- 
cern. If  you  really  feel  the  weight  of  the  evils  into  which  you 
have  plunged  Sir  William  Wallace,  do  not  increase  it  by  even 
'hinting  to  him  the  present  subject  of  your  anxiety." 

"  My  aunt  is  an  oracle,"  resumed  Murray.  "  Allow  me  to 
be  the  happy  knight  that  is  to  bear  the  surrender  of  Dumbar- 
ton to  my  sweet  cousin.  Prevail  on  Wallace  to  remain  in  this 
garrison  till  I  return,  and  then  full  tilt  for  the  walls  of  old 
Stirling  and  the  downfall  of  Hughie  Cressingham  ! " 

Both  the  countess  and  the  earl  were  pleased  with  this  ar- 
rangement. The  latter,  by  the  persuasions  of  his  nephew, 
retired  into  an  inner  chamber  to  repose,  and  the  former 
desired  Lord  Andrew  to  inform  Wallace  that  she  should 
expect  to  be  honored  with  his  presence  at  noon  to  partake  of 
such  fare  as  the  garrison  afforded. 


168  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

On  Murray's  coming  from  the  citadel  he  learnt  that  Wallace 
was  gone  towards  the  great  tower.  He  followed  him  thither, 
and  on  issuing  from  the  postern  which  led  to  that  part  of  the 
rock  saw  the  chief  standing  with  his  helmet  off  in  the  midst 
of  the  slain. 

"  This  is  a  sorry  sight,"  said  he  to  Murray  as  he  approached ; 
"but  it  shall  not  long  lie  thus  exposed.  I  have  just  ordered 
that  these  sad  wrecks  of  human  strife  may  be  lowered  into  the 
Clyde,  its  rushing  stream  will  soon  carry  them  to  a  quiet 
grave  beneath  yon  peaceful  sea.'7  His  own  dead,  amounting 
to  no  more  than  fifteen,  were  to  be  buried  at  the  foot  of  the 
rock,  a  prisoner  in  the  castle  having  described  steps  in  the 
cliff  by  which  the  solemnity  should  easily  be  performed. 

"  But  why,  my  dear  commander,"  cried  Lord  Andrew, — "  why 
do  you  take  any  thought  about  our  enemies?  Leave  them 
where  they  are,  and  the  eagles  of  our  mountains  will  soon  find 
them  graves." 

"  For  shame,  Murray  ! "  was  the  reply  of  Wallace  ;  "  they 
are  dead,  and  our  enemies  no  more.  They  are  men  like  our- 
selves, and  shall  we  deny  them  a  place  in  that  earth  whence 
we  all  sprung  ?  We  war  not  with  human  nature  j  are  we  not 
rather  the  assertors  of  her  rights  ?  " 

"  I  know,"  replied  Lord  Andrew,  blushing,  "  that  I  am 
often  the  assertor  of  my  own  folly,  and  I  do  not  know  how 
you  will  forgive  my  inconsiderate  impertinence." 

"  Because  it  was  inconsiderate,"  replied  Wallace.  "  In- 
humanity is  too  stern  a  guest  to  live  in  such  a  breast  as 
yours." 

"  If  I  ever  give  her  quarters,"  replied  Murray,  "  I  should 
most  wofully  disgrace  the  companion  she  would  meet  there. 
Next  to  the  honor  of  fair  Scotland,  my  cousin  Helen  is  the 

foddess  of  my  idolatry,  and  she  would  forswear  my  love  and 
indred  could  she  believe  me  capable  of  feeling  otherwise 
than  in  unison  with  Sir  William  Wallace." 

Wallace  looked  towards  him  with  a  benign  pleasure  in  his 
countenance.  "  Your  fair  cousin  does  me  honor." 

"  Ah,  my  noble  friend!  "  cried  Murray,  lowering  his  gay  tone 
to  one  of  softer  expression ;  "  if  you  knew  all  the  goodness, 
all  the  nobleness  that  dwells  in  her  gentle  heart,  you  would 
indeed  esteem  her  —  you  would  love  her  as  I  do." 

The  blood  fled  from  the  cheek  of  Wallace.  "  Not  as  you 
do,  Murray ;  I  can  no  more  love  woman  as  you  love  her.  Such 
scenes  as  these,"  cried  he,  turning  to  the  mangled  bodies 
which  the  men  were  now  carrying  away  to  the  precipice  of 


THE    GREAT    TOWER.  169 

the  Clyde,  "  have  divorced  woman's  love  from  my  heart.  I 
am  all  my  country's,  or  I  am  nothing." 

"  Nothing !  "  reiterated  Murray,  laying  his  hand  upon  that 
of  Wallace,  as  it  rested  upon  the  hilt  of  the  sword  on  which 
he  leaned  ;  "is  the  friend  of  mankind,  the  champion  of  Scot- 
land, the  beloved  of  a  thousand  valuable  hearts,  nothing  ? 
Nay,  art  thou  not  the  agent  of  Heaven  to  be  the  scourge  of  a 
tyrant  ?  Art  thou  not  the  deliverer  of  thy  country  ?  " 

Wallace  turned  his  bright  eye  upon  Murray  with  an  ex- 
pression of  mingled  feelings.  "  May  I  be  all  this,  my  friend, 
and  Wallace  must  yet  be  happy  !  But  speak  not  to  me  of 
love  and  woman ;  tell  me  not  of  those  endearing  qualities  I 
have  prized  too  tenderly,  and  which  are  now  buried  to  me 
forever  beneath  the  ashes  of  Ellerslie." 

"Not  under  the  ashes  of  Ellerslie,"  cried  Murray,  "sleep 
the  remains  of  your  lovely  wife."  Wallace's  penetrating 
eye  turned  quick  upon  him.  Murray  continued :  "  My  cousin's 
pitying  soul  stretched  itself  towards  them;  by  her  directions 
they  were  brought  from  your  oratory  in  the  rock  and  de- 
posited with  all  holy  rites  in  the  cemetery  at  Bothwell." 

The  glow  that  now  animated  the  before  chilled  heart  of 
Wallace  overspread  his  face.  His  eyes  spoke  volumes  of 
gratitude,  his  lips  moved,  but  his  feelings  were  too  big  for 
utterance,  and,  fervently  pressing  the  hand  of  Murray,  to 
conceal  emotions  ready  to  shake  his  manhood,  he  turned  away 
and  walked  towards  the  cliff. 

When  all  the  slain  were  lowered  to  their  last  beds,  a 
young  priest,  who  came  in  the  company  of  Scrymgeour,  gave 
the  funeral  benediction,  both  to  the  departed  in  the  waves 
and  those  whom  the  shore  had  received.  The  rites  over, 
Murray  again  drew  near  to  Wallace  and  delivered  his  aunt's 
message.  "  I  shall  obey  her  commands,"  returned  he  ;  "  but 
first  we  must  visit  our  wounded  prisoners  in  the  tower." 

Above  three  hundred  of  them  had  been  discovered  amongst 
the  dead. 

Murray  gladly  obeyed  the  impulse  of  his  leader's  arm,  and, 
followed  by  the  chieftains  returned  from  the  late  solemn  duty, 
they  entered  the  tower.  Ireland  welcomed  Wallace  with  the 
intelligence  that  he  hoped  he  had  succored  friends  instead  of 
foes ;  for  that  most  of  the  prisoners  were  poor  Welsh  peas- 
ants whom  Edward  had  torn  from  their  mountains  to  serve  in 
his  legions,  and  a  few  Irish,  who  in  heat  of  blood  and  eager- 
ness for  adventure  had  enlisted  in  his  ranks.  "  I  have  shown 
to  them,"  continued  Ireland,  "  what  fools  they  are  to  injure 


170  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

themselves  in  us.  I  told  the  Welsh  they  were  clinching  their 
own  chains  by  assisting  to  extend  the  dominion  of  their  con- 
queror, and  I  have  convinced  the  Irish  they  were  forging 
fetters  for  themselves  by  lending  their  help  to  enslave  their 
brother  nation,  the  free-born  Scots.  They  only  require  your 
presence,  my  lord,  to  forswear  their  former  leaders  and  to 
enlist  under  Scottish  banners." 

"  Thou  art  an  able  orator,  my  good  Stephen,"  returned  Wal- 
lace ;  "  and  whatever  promises  thou  hast  made  to  honest  men 
in  the  name  of  Scotland,  we  are  ready  to  ratify  them.  Is  it 
not  so  ?  "  added  he,  turning  to  Kirkpatrick  and  Scrymgeour. 

"  All  as  you  will,"  replied  they  in  one  voice.  "  Yes,"  added 
Kirkpatrick,  "  you  were  the  first  to  rise  for  Scotland,  and  who 
but  you  has  a  right  to  command  her  ?  " 

Ireland  threw  open  the  door  which  led  into  the  hall,  and 
there,  on  the  ground,  on  pallets  of  straw,  lay  most  of  the  wounded 
Southrons.  Some  of  their  dimmed  eyes  had  discerned  their 
preserver  when  he  discovered  them  expiring  on  the  rock,  and 
on  sight  of  him  now  they  uttered  such  a  piercing  cry  of  grati- 
tude, that,  surprised,  he  stood  for  a  moment.  In  that  moment 
five  or  six  of  the  poor  wounded  wretches  crawled  to  his  feet. 
"  Our  enemy  !  our  preserver  !  "  burst  from  their  lips  as  they 
kissed  the  edge  of  his  plaid. 

"Not  to  me,  not  to  me  ! " exclaimed  Wallace ;  " I  am  a  soldier 
like  yourselves.  I  have  only  acted  a  soldier's  part :  but  I  am 
a  soldier  of  freedom;  you,  of  a  tyrant  who  seeks  to  enslave  the 
world.  This  makes  the  difference  between  us ;  this  lays  you  at 
my  feet,  when  I  would  more  willingly  receive  you  to  my  arms 
as  brothers  in  one  generous  cause." 

"  We  are  yours,"  was  the  answering  exclamation  of  those 
who  knelt  and  of  those  who  raised  their  feebler  voices  from 
their  beds  of  straw.  A  few  only  remained  silent.  With  many 
kind  expressions  of  acceptance,  Wallace  disengaged  himself 
from  those  who  clung  around  him,  and  then  moved  towards 
the  sick,  who  seemed  too  ill  to  speak.  While  repeating  the 
same  consolatory  language  to  them,  he  particularly  observed 
an  old  man,  who  was  lying  between  two  young  ones,  and  still 
kept  a  profound  silence.  His  rough  features  were  marked 
with  many  a  scar,  but  there  was  a  meek  resignation  in  his 
face  that  powerfully  struck  Wallace.  When  tjie  chief  drew 
near,  the  veteran  raised  himself  on  his  arm  and  bowed  his 
head  with  a  respectful  air.  Wallace  stopped.  "  You  are  an 
Englishman  ?  " 
;  "I  am,  sir,  and  I  have  no  services  to  offer  you.  These  two 


THE    GREAT    TOWER.  171 

young  men  on  each  side  of  me  are  my  sons.  Their  brother  1 
lost  last  night  in  the  conflict.  To-day,  by  your  mercy,  not 
only  my  life  is  preserved,  but  my  two  remaining  children  also. 
Yet  I  am  an  Englishman,  and  I  cannot  be  grateful  at  the  ex- 
pense of  my  allegiance." 

"Nor  would  I  require  it  of  you,"  returned  Wallace.  "These 
brave  Welsh  and  Irish  were  brought  hither  by  the  invader  who 
subjugates  their  countries ;  they  owe  him  no  duty.  But  you 
are  a  free  subject  of  England.  He  that  is  a  tyrant  over  others 
can  only  be  a  king  to  you  —  he  must  be  the  guardian  of  your 
laws,  the  defender  of  your  liberties,  or  his  sceptre  falls. 
Having  sworn  to  follow  a  sovereign  so  plighted,  I  am  not 
severe  enough  to  condemn  you,  because,  misled  by  that  phan- 
tom which  he  calls  glory,  you  have  suffered  him  to  betray  you 
into  unjust  conquests." 

"  Once  I  have  been  so  misled,"  returned  the  old  man,  "  but  I 
never  will  again.  Fifty  years  I  have  fought  under  the  British 
standard  in  Normandy  and  in  Palestine  ;  and  now  in  my  old 
age,  with  four  sons,  I  followed  the  armies  of  my  sovereign  into 
Scotland.  My  eldest  I  lost  in  the  plains  of  Dunbar.  My 
second  fell  last  night,  and  my  two  youngest  are  now  by  my 
side.  You  have  saved  them  and  me.  What  can  I  do  ?  Not, 
as  your  noble  self  says,  forswear  my  country ;  but  this  I  swear, 
and  in  the  oath  do  you,  my  sons,  join  (as  he  spoke  they  laid 
their  crossed  hands  upon  his  in  token  of  assent),  never  to  raise 
our  swords  against  England ;  and  with  like  faith  never  to  lift 
an  arm  against  Sir  William  Wallace  or  the  cause  of  injured 
Scotland." 

"  To  this  we  also  subjoin,"  cried  several  other  men,  who  com- 
prised the  whole  of  the  English  prisoners. 

"  Noble  people,"  cried  Wallace,  "  why  have  you  not  a  king 
worthy  of  you  !  " 

"  And  yet,"  observed  Kirkpatrick,  in  a  surly  tone,  "  Hesel- 
rigge  was  one  of  these  people."  Wallace  turned  upon  him 
with  a  look  of  so  tremendous  a  meaning,  that,  awed  by  an  ex- 
pression too  mighty  for  him  to  comprehend,  he  fell  back  a  few 
paces  muttering  curses,  but  on  whom  could  not  be  heard. 

"  That  man  would  arouse  the  tiger  in  our  lion-hearted  chief," 
whispered  Scrymgeour  to  Murray. 

"Ay,"  returned  Lord  Andrew;  "but  the  royal  spirit  keeps 
the  beast  in  awe,  —  see  how  coweringly  that  bold  brow  now 
bows  before  it." 

Wallace  marked  the  impression  his  glance  had  made,  but 
where  he  had  struck,  being  unwilling  to  pierce  also,  he  dis- 


172  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

pelled  the  thunder  from  his  countenance,  and  once  more  look- 
ing on  Sir  Roger  with  a  frank  serenity,  "  Come,"  said  he,  "my 
good  knight,  you  must  not  be  more  tenacious  for  William  Wal- 
lace than  he  is  for  himself.  While  he  possesses  such  a  zealous 
friend  as  Kirkpatrick,  of  Torthorald,  he  need  not  now  fear  the 
arms  of  a  thousand  Heselrigges." 

"  No,  nor  of  Edwards  either/7  cried  Kirkpatrick,  once  more 
looking  boldly  up  and  shaking  his  broad  claymore.  "My 
thistle  has  a  point  to  sting  all  to  the  death  who  would  pass  be- 
tween this  arm  and  my  leader's  breast." 

"  May  Heaven  long  preserve  the  valiant  Wallace  !  "  was  the 
prayer  of  every  feeble  voice,  as  he  left  the  hall  to  visit  his  own 
wounded  in  an  upper  chamber.  The  interview  was  short  and 
satisfactory.  "  Ah,  sir,"  cried  one  of  them,  "  I  cannot  tell  how 
it  is,  but  when  I  see  you  I  feel  as  if  I  beheld  the  very  soul  of 
my  country,  or  its  guardian  angel,  standing  before  me  ;  a 
something  I  cannot  describe,  but  it  fills  me  with  courage  and 
comfort." 

"  You  see  an  honest  Scot  standing  before  you,  my  good  Dun- 
can," replied  Wallace  ;  "  and  that  is  no  mean  personage,  for  it 
is  one  who  knows  no  use  of  his  life  but  as  it  fulfils  his  duty 
to  his  country."  l 

"  Oh  that  the  sound  of  that  voice  could  penetrate  to  every 
ear  in  Scotland  !  "  rejoined  the  soldier  ;  "  it  would  be  more 
than  the  call  of  the  trumpet  to  bring  them  to  the  field." 

"  And  from  the  summit  of  this  rock  many  have  already  heard 
•  it,  and  more  shall  be  so  aroused,"  cried  Murray,  returning  from 
the  door,  to  which  one  of  his  men  had  beckoned  him.  "Here  is 
a  man  come  to  announce  that  Malcolm,  Earl  of  Lennox,  passing 
by  the  foot  of  this  rock,  saw  the  Scottish  standard  flying  from 
its  citadel;  and  as  overjoyed  as  amazed  at  the  sight,  he  sends 
to  request  the  confidence  of  being  admitted." 

"Let  me  bring  him  hither,"  interrupted  Kirkpatrick;  "he 
is  brave  as  the  day,  and  will  be  a  noble  auxiliary." 

"  Every  true  Scot  must  be  welcome  to  these  walls,"  returned 
Wallace. 

Kirkpatrick  hastened  from  the  tower  to  the  northern  side  of 
the  rock,  at  the  foot  of  which  stood  the  earl  and  his  train. 
With  all  the  pride  of  a  freeman  and  a  victor  Sir  Roger  de- 
scended the  height.  Lennox  advanced  to  meet  him.  "  What 
Is  it  I  see  ?  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick  master  of  this  citadel,  and 


aNow  that  he  is  no  more  in  this  world,  and  as  truth  cannot  now  be  misapprehended 
us  the  language  of  adulation,  even  from  friend  to  friend,  the  writer  will  not  forbear  here 
owning  that  this  sentiment  she  learnt  from  the  lips  of  the  late  Sir  Sidney  Smith,  whose 
life  proved  its  practice.  —  (1840.) 


THE    GREAT    TOWER.  173 

our  king's  colors  flying  from  its  towers  !  Where  is  Earl  de 
Valence  ?  Where  the  English  garrison  ?  " 

"  The  English  garrison/'  replied  Kirkpatrick,  "  are  now 
twelve  hundred  men  beneath  the  waters  of  the  Clyde.  De 
Valence  is  fled;  and  this  fortress,  manned  with  a  few  hardy 
Scots,  shall  sink  into  yon  waves  ere  it  again  bear  the  English 
dragon  on  its  walls." 

"  And  you,  noble  knight,"  cried  Lennox,  "  have  achieved-  all 
this  !  You  are  the  dawn  to  a  blessed  day  for  Scotland." 

"  No,"  replied  Kirkpatrick ;  "  I  am  but  a  follower  of  the  man 
who  has  struck  the  blow.  Sir  William  Wallace,  of  Ellerslie,  is 
our  chief ;  and  with  the  power  of  his  virtues  he  subdues  not 
only  friends  but  enemies  to  his  command." 

He  then  exultingly  narrated  the  happy  events  of  the  last 
four  and  twenty  hours.  The  earl  listened  with  wonder  and 
joy.  "  What ! "  cried  he,  "  so  noble  a  plan  for  Scotland  and  I 
ignorant  of  it  ?  I,  that  have  not  waked  day  nor  night  for 
many  a  month  without  thinking  or  dreaming  of  some  enter- 
prise to  free  my  country,  and  -behold  it  is.  achieved  in  a 
moment !  I  see  the  stroke  as  a  bolt  from  heaven,  and  I  pray 
Heaven  it  may  light  the  sacrifice  throughout  the  nation." 

"  Lead  me,  worthy  knight,  —  lead  me  to  your  chief,  for  he 
shall  be  mine  too ;  he  shall  command  Malcolm  Lennox  and  all 
his  clan." 

Kirkpatrick  gladly  turned  to  obey  him,  and  they  mounted 
the  ascent  together.  Within  the  barbican  gate  stood  Wallace, 
with  Scrymgeour  and  Murray.  The  earl  knew  Scrymgeour 
well,  having  often  seen  him  in  the  field  as  hereditary  standard- 
bearer  of  the  kingdom ;  of  the  persons  of  the  others  he  was 
ignorant. 

"  There  is  Wallace  !  "  exclaimed  Kirkpatrick. 

"  Not  one  of  those  very  young  men  ?  "  interrogated  the  earl. 

"  Even  so,"  was  the  answer  of  the  knight ;  "  but  his  is  the 
youth  of  the  brave  son  of  Ammon ;  gray  beards  are  glad  to  bow 
before  his  golden  locks,  for  beneath  them  is  wisdom." 

As  he  spoke  they  entered  the  barbican,  and  Wallace,  whom 
the  penetrating  eye  of  Lennox  had  already  singled  out  for  the 
chief,  advanced  to  meet  his  guest. 

"  Earl,"  said  he,  "  you  are  welcome  to  Dumbarton  castle." 

"  Bravest  of  my  countrymen  !  "  returned  Lennox,  clasping 
him  in  his  arms,  "  receive  a  soldier's  embrace ;  receive  the  grati- 
tude of  a  loyal  heart ;  accept  my  services,  my  arms,  my  men ; 
my  all  I  devote  to  Scotland  and  the  great  cause." 

Wallace  for  a  moment  did  not  answer,  but  warmly  straining 


174  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  earl  to  his  breast,  said,  as  he  released  him,  "  Such  support 
will  giva  sinews  to  our  power.  A  few  months,  and  with  the 
blessing  of  that  arm  which  has  already  mowed  down  the  ranks 
which  opposed  us  we  shall  see  Scotland  at  liberty." 

"  And  may  Heaven,  brave  Wallace,"  exclaimed  Lennox, 
"  grant  us  thine  arm  to  wield  its  scythe  !  But  how  have  you 
accomplished  this  ?  How  have  your  few  overthrown  this  Eng- 
lish host?" 

"He  strikes  home  when  right  points  his  sword,"  replied 
Wallace  ;  "the  injuries  of  Scotland  were  my  guide,  and  justice 
my  companion.  We  feared  nothing,  for  God  was  with  us  ;  we 
feared  nothing,  and  in  his  might  we  conquered." 

"And  shall  yet  conquer,"  cried  Lennox,  kindling  with  the 
enthusiasm  that  blazed  from  the  eyes  of  Wallace ;  "I  feel  the 
strength  of  our  cause,  and  from  this  hour  I  devote  myself  to 
assert  it  or  to  die." 

"  Not  to  die,  my  noble  lord,"  said  Murray ;  "  we  have  yet 
many  an  eve  to  dance  over  the  buried  fetters  of  Scotland.  And 
as  a  beginning  of  our  jollities,  I  must  remind  our  leader  that 
my  aunt's  board  awaits  him." 

Lord  Lennox  understood  from  this  address  it  was  the  brave 
Murray  who  spoke  to  him,  for  he  had  heard  sufficient  from  Sir 
Roger  Kirkpatrick  to  explain  how  the  Countess  of  Mar  and 
her  patriot  husband  came  within  those  walls. 

The  countess,  having  arrayed  herself  with  all  her  powers  to 
receive  her  deliverer,  awaited  the  hour  of  his  arrival  with  an 
emotion  at  her  heart  which  made  it  bound  against  her  bosom 
when  she  saw  the  object  of  her  splendid  toil  advancing  along 
the  court-yard.  All  others  were  lost  to  her  impatient  eyes, 
and  hastily  rising  from  the  window  as  the  chiefs  entered  the 
porch  she  crossed  the  room  to  meet  them  at  the  door. 

The  Earl  of  Lennox  stood  amazed  at  sight  of  so  much  beauty 
and  splendor  in  such  a  scene.  Lady  Mar  had  hardly  attained 
her  thirty-fifth  year,  but  from  the  graces  of  her  person  and 
the  address  with  which  she  set  forth  all  her  charms,  the  en- 
chanted gazer  found  it  impossible  to  suppose  her  more  than 
three  or  four  and  twenty.  Thus  happily  formed  by  nature, 
and  habited  in  a  suit  of  velvet  overlaid  with  cyprus-work  of 
gold,  blazing  with  jewels  about  her  head,  and  her  feet  clad  in 
silver-fretted  sandals,  Lennox  thought  she  looked  more  like 
some  triumphant  queen  than  a  wife  who  had  so  lately  shared 
captivity  with  an  outlawed  husband.1  Murray  started  at  such 

1  This  was  the  style  for  state  dress  worn  by  noble  ladies  in  the  thirteenth  century,  the 
Crusades  having  introduced  much  gorgeous  apparel.  —  (1809.) 


THE    GREAT    TOWER.  175 

unexpected  magnificence  in  his  aunt;  but  Wallace  scarcely 
observed  it  was  anything  unusual,  and  bowing  to  her  presented 
the  Earl  of  Lennox.  She  smiled,  and  saying  a  few  words  of 
welcome  to  the  earl,  gave  her  hand  to  Wallace  to  lead  her  back 
into  the  chamber. 

Lord  Mar  had  risen  from  his  seat,  and  leaning  on  his  sword, 
for  his  warlike  arm  refused  any  other  staff,  stood  up  on  theii 
entrance.  At  sight  of  Lord  Lennox  he  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  glad  surprise.  Lennox  embraced  him.  "I  too  am  come 
to  enlist  under  the  banners  of  this  young  Leonidas." 

"  God  armeth  the  patriot,"  was  all  the  reply  that  Mar  made, 
while  the  big  tears  rolled  over  his  cheek  and  he  shook  him  by 
the  hand. 

"I  have  four  hundred  stout  Lennoxmen,"  continued  the 
earl,  "who  by  to-morrow's  eve  shall  be  ready  to  follow  our 
leader  to  the  very  borders." 

"Not  so  soon,"  interrupted  the  countess;  "our  deliverer 
needs  repose." 

"  I  thank  your  benevolence,  Lady  Mar,"  returned  Wallace ; 
"but  the  issue  of  last  night,  and  the  sight  of  Lord  Lennox  this 
day  with  the  promise  of  so  great  a  support,  are  such  aliments 
that  —  we  must  go  forward." 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure,"  joined  Kirkpatrick,  "  Dumbarton  was  not 
taken  during  our  sleep  ;  and  if  we  stay  loitering  here,  the  devil 
that  holds  Stirling  castle  may  follow  the  scent  of  De  Valence, 
and  so  I  lose  my  prey." 

"What!"  cried  the  countess,  "and  is  my,  lord  to  be  left 
again  to  his  enemies  ?  Sir  William  Wallace,  I  should  have 
thought " — 

"Everything,  madam,"  rejoined  he,  "that  is  demonstrative 
of  my  devotion  to  your  venerable  lord.  But  with  a  brave 
garrison  I  hope  you  will  consider  him  safe  here  until  a  wider 
range  of  security  be  won  to  enable  you  to  retire  to  Braemar.1 

As  the  apostrophe  to  Wallace  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
countess'  speech  had  been  addressed  to  himself  in  rather  a 
low  voice,  his  reply  was  made  in  a  similar  tone,  so  that  Lord 
Mar  did  not  hear  any  part  of  the  answer  except  the  conclud- 
ing words.  But  then  he  exclaimed,  "Nay,  my  ever-fearful 
Joanna,  art  thou  making  objections  to  keeping  garrison 
here  ?  " 

"  I  confess,"  replied  Wallace,  "  that  an  armed  citadel  is  not 
the  most  pleasant  abode  for  a  lady ;  but  at  present,  excepting 
perhaps  the  church,  it  is  the  safest ;  and  I  would  not  advise 

»  A  castle  of  the  Earl  of  Mar's. 


176  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

your  lady  to  remove  hence  until  the  plain  be  made  as  free  as 
this  mountain." 

The  sewer  now  announced  the  board  in  the  hall,  and  the 
countess,  leading  the  way,  reluctantly  gave  her  hand  to  the 
Earl  of  Lennox.  Lord  Mar  leaned  on  the  arm  of  Wallace,  who 
was  followed  by  Edwin  and  the  other  chieftains. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 


THE    CITADEL. 

DURING  the  repast  the  countess  often  fixed  her  unrestrained 
gaze  on  the  manly,  yet  youthful  countenance  of  the  heroic 
Wallace.  His  plumed  helmet  was  now  laid  aside,  and  the 
heavy  corselet  unbuckled  from  his  breast,  disclosing  the  sym- 
metry of  his  fine  form,  left  its  graceful  movements  to  be  dis- 
played with  advantage  by  the  flexible  folds  of  his  simple  tartan 
vest.  Was  it  the  formidable  Wallace  she  looked  on  —  bathed 
in  the  blood  of  Heselrigge,  and  breathing  vengeance  against 
the  adherents  of  the  tyrant  Edward  ?  It  was,  then,  the  enemy 
of  her  kinsmen  of  the  House  of  Cummin.  It  was  the  man  for 
whom  her  husband  had  embraced  so  many  dangers ;  it  was  the 
man  whom  she  had  denounced  to  one  of  those  kinsmen,  and 
whom  she  had  betrayed  to  the  hazard  of  an  ignominious  death. 
But  where  now  was  the  fierce  rebel,  the  miner  of  her  peace, 
the  outlaw  whom  she  had  wished  in  his  grave  ? 

The  last  idea  was  distraction.  She  could  have  fallen  at  his 
feet  and,  bathing  them  with  her  tears,  have  implored  his  pity 
and  forgiveness.  Even  as  the  wish  sprung  in  her  mind,  she 
asked  herself,  "  Did  he  know  all,  could  he  pardon  such  a  weight 
of  injuries  ?  "  She  cast  her  eyes  with  a  wild  expression  upon 
his  face.  The  mildness  of  heaven  was  there,  and  the  peace, 
too,  she  might  have  thought,  had  not  his  eye  carried  a  chastened 
sadness  in  its  look,  which  told  that  something  dire  and  sorrdw 
ful  was  buried  deep  within.  It  was  a  look  that  dissolved  the 
soul  which  gazed  on  it.  The  countess  felt  her  heart  throb 
violently.  At  that  moment  Waftace  addressed  a  few  words  to 
her,  but  she  knew  not  what  they  were ;  her  soul  was  in  tumults, 
and  a  mist  passed  over  her  sight,  which,  for  a  moment,  seemed 
to  wrap  all  her  senses  in  a  trance. 

The  unconscious  object  of  these  emotions  bowed  to  her  in- 


THE    CITADEL.  177 

articulate  reply,  supposing  that  the  mingling  voices  of  others 
had  made  him  hear  hers  indistinctly. 

Lady  Mar  found  her  situation  so  strange,  and  her  agitation 
so  inexplicable,  that  feeling  it  impossible  to  remain  longer  with- 
out giving  way  to  a  burst  of  tears,  she  rose  from  her  seat,  and 
forcing  a  smile  with  her  curtsey  to  the  company,  left  the  room. 

On  gaining  the  upper  apartment  she  threw  herself  along  the 
nearest  couch,  and  striking  her  breast,  exclaimed,  "What  is^ 
this  within  me  ?  How  does  my  soul  seem  to  pour  itself  out  to 
this  man  !  Oh,  how  does  it  extend  itself,  as  if  it  would  absorb 
his,  even  at  my  eyes !  Only  twelve  hours  —  hardly  twelve 
hours,  have  I  seen  this  William  Wallace,  and  yet  my  very 
being  is  now  lost  in  his  !  " 

While  thus  speaking,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hand- 
kerchief, but  no  tears  now  started  to  be  wiped  away.  The  fire 
in  her  veins  dried  their  source,  and  with  burning  blushes  she 
rose  from  her  seat.  "  Fatal,  fatal  hour !  Why  didst  thou 
come  here,  too  infatuating  Wallace,  to  rob  me  of  my  peace  ? 
Oh,  why  did  I  ever  look  at  that  face  ?  or  rather,  blessed 
saints  ! "  cried  she,  clasping  her  hands  in  wild  passion,  "  why 
did  I  ever  shackle  this  hand  ?  why  did  I  ever  render  such  a 
sacrifice  necessary?  Wallace  is  now  free  ;  had  I  been  free  — 
But,  wretch,  wretch,  wretch  !  I  could  tear  out  this  betrayed 
heart !  I  could  trample  on  that  of  the  infatuating  husband 
that  made  me  such  a  slave !  "  She  gasped  for  breath,  and  again 
seating  herself,  reclined  her  beating  temples  against  the  couch. 

She  was  now  silent ;  but  thoughts  not  less  intense,  not  less 
fraught  with  self-reproach  and  anguish,  occupied  her  mind. 
Should  this  god  of  her  idolatry  ever  discover  that  it  was  her 
information  which  had  sent  Earl  de  Valence's  men  to  surround 
him  in  the  mountains ;  should  he  ever  learn  that  at  Bothwell 
she  had  betrayed  the  cause  on  which  he  had  set  his  life,  -«-she 
felt  that  moment  would  be  her  last.  For  now,  to  sate  her  eyes 
with  gazing  on  him,  to  hear  the  sound  of  his  voice,  to  receive 
his  smiles,  seemed  to  her  a  joy  she  could  only  surrender  with 
her  existence.  What,  then,  was  the  prospect  of  so  soon  losing 
him,  even  to  crown  himself  with  honor,  but  to  her  a  living 
death  ? 

To  defer  his  departure  was  all  her  study,  all  her  hope ;  and 
fearful  that  his  restless  valor  might  urge  him  to  accompany  Mur- 
ray in  his  intended  convoy  of  Helen  to  the  Tweed,  she  deter- 
mined to  persuade  her  nephew  to  set  off  without  the  knowledge 
af  his  general.  She  did  not  allow  that  it  was  the  youthful  beauty 
and  more  lovely  mind  of  her  daughter-in-law  which  she  feared. 

VOL.  I.  — 12 


178  THE   SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Even  to  herself  she  cloaked  her  alarm  under  the  plausible  ex- 
cuse of  care  for  the  chieftain's  safety.  Composed  by  this 
mental  arrangement,  her  disturbed  features  became  smooth, 
and  with  even  a  sedate  air  she  received  her  lord  and  his  brave 
friends  when  they  soon  after  entered  the  chamber. 

But  the  object  of  her  wishes  did  not  appear.  Wallace  had 
taken  Lord  Lennox  to  view  the  dispositions  of  the  fortress. 
Jll  satisfied  as  she  was  with  his  prolonged  absence,  she  did  not 
fail  to  turn  it  to  advantage  j  and  while  her  lord  and  his  friends 
were  examining  a  draft  of  Scotland,  which  Wallace  had 
sketched  after  she  left  the  banqueting-room,  she  took  Lord 
Andrew  aside  to  converse  with  him  on  the  subject  now  nearest 
to  her  heart. 

"  It  certainly  belongs  to  me  alone,  her  kinsman  and  friend, 
to  protect  Helen  to  the  Tweed,  if  there  she  must  go,"  returned 
Murray ;  "  but,  my  good  lady,  I  cannot  comprehend  why  I  am 
to  lead  my  fair  cousin  such  a  pilgrimage.  She  is  not  afraid  of 
heroes ;  you  are  safe  in  Dumbarton,  and  why  not  bring  her  here 
also  ?  " 

"  Not  for  worlds  ! "  exclaimed  the  countess,  thrown  off  her 
guard.  Murray  looked  at  her  with  surprise.  It  recalled  her 
to  self-possession,  and  she  resumed.  "  So  lovely  a  creature  in 
this  castle  would  be  a  dangerous  magnet.  You  must  have 
known  that  it  was  the  hope  of  obtaining  her  which  attracted 
the  Lord  Soulis  and  Earl  de  Valence  to  Bothwell.  The  whole 
castle  rung  with  the  quarrel  of  these  two  lords  upon  her  ac- 
count, when  you  so  fortunately  effected  her  escape.  Should  it 
be  known  that  she  is  here,  the  same  fierce  desire  of  obtaining 
her  would  give  double  excitement  to  De  Valence  to  recover  the 
place ;  and  the  consequences,  who  can  answer  for  ?  " 

By  this  argument  Murray  was  persuaded  to  relinquish  the 
idea  of  conveying  Helen  to  Dumbarton;  but  remembering  what 
Wallace  had  said  respecting  the  safety  of  a  religious  sanctu- 
ary, he  advised  that  she  should  be  left  at  St.  Fillan's  till  the 
cause  of  Scotland  might  be  more  firmly  established.  "  Send 
a  messenger  to  inform  her  of  the  rescue  of  Dumbarton,  and 
of  your  and  my  uncle's  health,"  continued  he,  "  and  that  will 
be  sufficient  to  make  her  happy." 

That  she  was  not  to  be  thrown  in  Wallace's  way,  satis- 
fied Lady  Mar,  and  indifferent  whether  Helen's  seclusion 
were  under  the  Eildon  tree1  or  the  Holyrood,  she  approved 

1  The  Eildon  tree  is  famous  in  tradition.  It  stood  near  Learmont  tower,  on  the  Leedet, 
the  seat  of  Thomas,  the  sage  or  prophet  of  Ercildown.  It  was  reported  that  he  here 
met  a  fairy  who  endowed  him  with  many  supernatural  gifts,  and  that  from  this  spot  he 
generally  uttered  his  predictions.  The  tree  no  longer  exists,  but  the  place  where  it 
stood  is  marked  by  a  large  etoue  called  the  Eildon-tree  stone.  —  (1809.) 


THE    CITADEL.  179 

Murray's  "decision.  Eelieved  from  apprehension,  her  face  be- 
came again  dressed  in  smiles,  and  with  a  bounding  step  she 
rose  to  welcome  the  reentrance  of  Wallace  with  the  Earl  of 
Lennox. 

Absorbed  in  one  thought,  every  charm  she  possessed  was 
directed  to  the  same  point.  She  played  finely  on  the  lute, 
and  sung  with  all  the  grace  of  her  country.  What  gentle 
heart  was  not  to  be  affected  by  music  ?  She  determined  it 
should  be  one  of  the  spells  by  which  she  meant  to  attract 
Wallace.  She  took  up  one  of  the  lutes,  which  with  other 
musical  instruments  decorated  the  apartments  of  the  lux- 
urious De  Valence,  and  touching  it  with  exquisite  delicacy, 
breathed  the  most  pathetic  air  her  memory  could  dictate : 

• 

If  on  the  heath  she  moved,  her  breast  was  whiter  than  the  down  of  Cana; 
If  on  the  sea-beat  shore,  than  the  foam  of  the  rolling  ocean. 
Her  eyes  were  two  stars  of  light ;  her  face  was  heaven's  bow  in  shower ; 
Her  dark  hair  flowed  around  it  like  the  streaming  clouds. 
Thou  wert  the  dweller  of  souls,  white-handed  Strinadona. 

Wallace  rose  from  his  chair  which  had  been  placed  near 
her.  She  had  designed  that  these  tender  words  of  the  bard 
of  Morven  should  suggest  to  her  hearer  the  observation  of 
her  own  resembling  beauties.  But  he  saw  in  them  only  the 
lovely  dweller  of  his  own  soul,  and  walking  towards  a  window, 
stood  there  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  descending  sun.  "  So 
have  set  all  my  joys.  So  is  life  to  me,  a  world  without  a  sun, 
—  cold,  cold,  and  charmless." 

The  countess  vainly  believed  that  some  sensibility  advan- 
tageous to  her  new  passion  had  caused  the  agitation  with 
which  she  saw  him  depart  from  her  side,  and,  intoxicated 
with  the  idea,  she  ran  through  many  a  melodious  descant,  till 
touching  on  the  first  strains  of  Thusa  ha  measg  no,  reultan 
mor,  she  saw  Wallace  start  from  his  contemplative  position 
and  with  a  pale  countenance  leave  the  room.  There  was 
something  in  his  abruptness  which  excited  the  alarm  of  the 
Earl  of  Lennox,  who  had  also  been  listening  to  the  songs ;  he 
rose  instantly,  and  overtaking  the  chief  at  the  threshold,  in- 
quired what  was  the  matter.  "  Nothing,"  answered  Wallace, 
forcing  a  smile  in  which  the  agony  of  his  mind  was  too  truly 
imprinted  ;•"  but  music  displeases  me."  With  this  reply  he 
disappeared.  The  excuse  seemed  strange,  but  it.  was  true,  for 
she  whose  notes  were  to  him  sweeter  than  the  thrush,  whose 
angel  strains  used  to  greet  his  morning  and  evening  hours, 
was  silent  in  the  grave.  He  should  no  more  see  her  white 


180  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

hand  upon  the  lute ;  he  should  no  more  behold  that  bosom, 
brighter  than  foam  upon  the  wave,  heave  in  tender  transport 
at  his  applause.  What,  then,  was  music  to  him  ?  A  soulless 
sound  or  a  direful  knell,  to  recall  the  remembrance  of  all  he 
had  lost. 

Such  were  his  thoughts  when  the  words  of  Thusa  ha  measg 
rung  from  Lady  Mar's  voice.  Those  were  the  strains  which 
Halbert  used  to  breathe  from  his  harp  to  call  his  Marion  to  her 
nightly  slumbers;  those  were  the  strains  with  which  that 
faithful  servant  had  announced  that  she  slept  to  wake  no 
more. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  Wallace  fled  from  the  apartment 
and  buried  himself  and  his  aroused  grief  amid  the  distant  soli- 
tudes of  the  beacon-hill. 

While  looking  over  the  shoulder  of  his  uncle,  on  the  station 
which  Stirling  held  amid  the  Ochil  hills,  Edwin  had  at  inter- 
vals cast  a  sidelong  glance  upon  the  changing  complexion  of 
his  commander ;  and  no  sooner  did  he  see  him  hurry  from  the 
room,  than  fearful  of  some  disaster  having  befallen  the  garrison, 
which  Wallace  did  not  choose  immediately  to  mention,  he 
also  stole  out  of  the  apartment. 

After  seeking  the  object  of  his  anxiety  for  a  long  time  with- 
out avail,  he  was  returning  on  his  steps,  when,  attracted  by  the 
splendor  of  the  moon  silvering  the  beacon-hill,  he  ascended,  to 
tread,  once  at  least,  that  acclivity  in  light  which  he  had  so 
miraculously  passed  in  darkness.  Scarce  a  zephyr  fanned  the 
sleeping  air.  He  moved  on  with  a  flying  step  till  a  deep  sigh 
arrested  him.  He  stopped  and  listened.  It  was  repeated 
again  and  again.  He  gently  drew  nearer  and  saw  a  human 
figure  reclining  on  the  ground.  The  head  of  the  apparent 
mourner  was  unbonneted,  and  the  brightness  of  the  moon 
shone  on  his  polished  forehead.  Edwin  thought  the  sound  of 
those  sighs  was  the  same  he  had  often  heard  from  the  breast 
of  Wallace,  and  he  no  longer  doubted  having  found  the  object 
of  his  search.  He  walked  forward.  Again  the  figure  sighed, 
but  with  a  depth  so  full  of  piercing  woe  that  Edwin  hesitated. 

A  cloud  had  passed  over  the  moon,  but  sailing  off  again, 
displayed  to  the  anxious  boy  that  he  had  indeed  drawn  very 
near  his  friend.  "  Who  goes  there  ? "  exclaimed  Wallace, 
starting  on  his  feet. 

"Your  Edwin,"  returned  the  youth.  "I  feared  something 
wrong  had  happened  when  I  saw  you  look  so  sad  and  leave 
the  room  abruptly." 

Wallace  pressed  his  hand  in  silence.     "  Then  some  evil  has 


THE    CITADEL.  181 

befallen  you  ?  "  inquired  Edwin,  in  an  agitated  voice ;  "  you  do 
not  speak." 

Wallace  seated  himself  on  a  stone  and  leaned  his  head  upon 
the  hilt  of  his  sword.  "  No  new  evil  has  befallen  me,  Edwin  ; 
but  there  is  such  a  thing  as  remembrance,  that  stabs  deeper 
than  the  dagger's  point." 

"  What  remembrance  can  wound  you,  my  general  ?  The 
Abbot  of  St.  Columba  has  often  told  me  that  memory  is  a 
balm  to  every  ill  with  the  good ;  and  have  not  you  bee'n  good 
to  all  ?  The  benefactor,  the  preserver  of  thousands  ?  Surely  9 
if  man  can  be  happy,  it  must  be  Sir  William  Wallace." 

"And  so  I  am,  my  Edwin,  when  I  contemplate  the  end. 
But  in  the  interval,  with  all  thy  sweet  philosophy,  is  it  not 
written  here  '  that  man  was  made  to  mourn '  ?  "  He  put  his 
hand  on  his  heart ;  and  then,  after  a  short  pause,  resumed : 
"  Doubly  I  mourn,  doubly  am  I  bereaved,  for  'had  it  not  been 
for  an  enemy  more  fell  than  he  which  beguiled  Adam  of 
paradise,  I  might  have  been  a  father ;  I  mighb  have  lived  to 
have  gloried  in  a  son  like  thee  ;  I  might  have  seen  my  wedded 
angel  clasp  such  a  blessing  to  her  bosom ;  but  now,  both  are 
cold  in  clay.  These  are  the  recollections  which  sometimes 
draw  tears  down  thy  leader's  cheeks.  And  do  not  believe, 
brother  of  my  soul,"  said  he,  pressing  the  now  weeping  Edwin 
to  his  breast,  "  that  they  disgrace  his  manhood.  The  Son  of 
God  wept  over  the  tomb  of  his  friend ;  and  shall  I  deny  a  few 
tears,  dropped  in  stealth,  over  the  grave  of  my  wife  and  child  ?  " 

Edwin  sobbed  aloud.  "  No  son  could  love  you  dearer  than  I 
do.  Ah !  let  my  duty,  my  affection,  teach  you  to  forget  you 
have  lost  a  child.  I  will  replace  all  to  you  but  your  Marion, 
and  she  the  pitying  Son  of  Mary  will  restore  to  you  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven." 

Wallace  looked  steadfastly  at  the  young  preacher.  " '  Out 
of  the  mouths  of  babes  we  shall  hear  wisdom.'  Thine,  dear 
Edwin,  I  will  lay  to  heart.  Thou  shalt  comfort  me  when  my 
hermit-soul  shuts  out  all  the  world  besides." 

"  Then  I  am  indeed  your  brother ! "  cried  the  happy  youth ; 
"  admit  me  but  to  your  heart,  and  no  fraternal,  no  filial  tie 
shall  be  more  strongly  linked  than  mine." 

"  What  tender  affections  I  can  spare  from  those  resplendent 
regions,"  answered  Wallace,  pointing  to  the  skies,  "  are  thine. 
The  fervors  of  my  once  ardent  soul  are  Scotland's,  or  1  die. 
But  thou  are  too  young,  my  brother,"  added  he,  interrupting 
himself,  "to  understand  all  the  feelings,  all  the  seeming 
contradictions,  of  my  contending  heart." 


182  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  Not  so,"  answered  Edwin,  with  a  modest  blush ;  "  what  wag 
Lady  Marion's  you  now  devote  to  Scotland.  The  blaze  of 
those  affections  which  were  hers  would  consume  your  being 
did  you  not  pour  it  forth  on  your  country.  Were  you  not  a 
patriot,  grief  would  prey  upon  your  life." 

"  You  have  read  me,  Edwin,"  replied  Wallace ;  "  and  that 
you  may  never  love  to  idolatry,  learn  this  also:  Though 
Scotland  lay  in  ruin,'  I  was  happy.  I  felt  no  captivity  while 
in  Marion's  arms ;  even  oppression  was  forgotten,  when  she 
made  the  sufferer's  tears  cease  to  flow.  She  absorbed  my 
wishes,  my  thoughts,  my  life,  and  she  was  wrested  from  me, 
that  I  might  feel  myself  a  slave,  that  the  iron  might  enter  into 
my  soul  with  which  I  was  to  pull  down  tyranny  and  free  my 
country.  Mark  the  sacrifice,  young  man,"  cried  Wallace, 
starting  on  his  feet ;  "  it  even  now  smokes,  and  the  flames  are 
here  inextinguishable."  He  struck  his  hand  upon  his  breast. 
"  Never  love  as  I  have  loved,  and  you  will  be  a  patriot  without 
needing  to  taste  my  bitter  cup." 

Edwin  trembled  ;  his  tears  were  checked.  "  I  can  love  no 
one  better  than  I  do  you,  my  general,  and  is  there  any  crime  in 
that  ?  " 

Wallace  in  a  moment  recovered  from  the  transient  wildness 
which  had  possessed  him.  "None,  my  Edwin,"  replied  he; 
"  the  affections  are  never  criminal  but  when  by  their  excess 
they  blind  us  to  other  duties.  The  offence  of  mine  is  judged, 
and  I  bow  to  the  penalty.  When  that  is  paid,  then  may  my 
ashes  sleep  in  rescued  Scotland.  Then  may  the  God  of  vic- 
tory and  of  mercy  grant  that  the  seraph  spirits  of  my  wife 
and  infant  may  meet  my  pardoned  soul  in  paradise."  Edwin 
wept  afresh.  "  Cease,  dear  boy  !  "  said  he,  "  these  presages 
are  very  comforting  ;  they  whisper  that  the -path  of  glory  leads 
thy  brother  to  his  home."  As  he  spoke  he  took  the  arm  of  the 
silent  Edwin,  whose  sensibility  locked  up  the  powers  of 
speech,  and  putting  it  through  his,  they  descended  the  hill 
together. 

On  the  open  ground  before  the  great  tower  they  were  met 
by  Murray.  "  I  come  to  seek  you,"  cried  he ;  "  we  have  had 
woe  on  woe  in  the  citadel  since  you  left  it." 

"  Nothing  very  calamitous,"  returned  Wallace,  "  if  we  may 
guess  by  the  merry  aspect  of  the  messenger." 

"  Only  a  little  whirlwind  of  my  aunt's,  in  which  we  have 
had  airs  and  showers  enough  to  wet  us  through  and  blow  us 
dry  again." 

The  conduct  of  the  lady  had  been  even  more  extravagant 


THE    CITADEL.  183 

than  her  nephew  chose  to  describe.  After  the  knight's  de- 
parture, when  the  chiefs  entered  into  conversation  respecting 
his  future  plans,  and  Lennox  mentioned  that  when  his  mei? 
should  arrive,  for  whom  he  had  that  evening  despatched  Ker, 
it  was  Wallace's  intention  to  march  immediately  for  Stirling, 
whither  it  could  hardly  be  doubted  Aymer  de  Valence  had 
fled.  "I  shall  be  left  "he  re,"  continued  the  earl,  "  to  assist 
you,  Lord  Mar,  in  the  severer  duties  attendant  on  being  gov- 
ernor of  this  place." 

No  sooner  did  these  words  reach  the  ear  of  the  countess 
than,  struck  with  despair,  she  hastened  toward  her  husband 
and  earnestly  exclaimed,  "  You  will  not  suffer  this  ?  " 

"  No,"  returned  the  earl,  mistaking  her  meaning ;  "  not  being 
able  to  perform  the  duties  attendant  on  the  responsible  station 
with  which  Wallace  would  honor  me,  I  shall  relinquish  it  alto- 
gether to  Lord  Lennox,  and  be  amply  satisfied  in  finding  my- 
self under  his  protection." 

"  Ah,  where  is  protection  without  Sir  William  Wallace  ?  " 
cried  she.  "  If  he  go,  our  enemies  will  return.  Who  then 
will  repel  them  from  these  walls  ?  Who  will  defend  your 
wife  and  only  son  from  falling  again  into  the  hands  of  our 
doubly  incensed  foes  ?  " 

Mar  observed  Lord  Lennox  color  at  this  imputation  on  his 
bravery,  and,  shocked  at  the  affront  which  his  unreflecting 
wife  seemed  to  give  so  gallant  a  chief,  he  hastily  replied, 
"  Though  this  wounded  arm  cannot  boast,  yet  the  Earl  of  Len- 
nox is  an  able  representative  of  our  commander." 

"  I  will  die,  madam,"  interrupted  Lennox,  "  before  anything 
hostile  approaches  you  or  your  children." 

She  attended  slightly  to  this  pledge,  and  again  addressed 
her  lord  with  fresh  arguments  for  the  detention  of  Wallace. 
Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  impatient  under  all  this  foolery,  as  h£ 
justly  deemed  it,  abruptly  said,  "  Be  assured,  fair  lady,  Israel's 
Samson  was  not  brought  into  the  world  to  keep  guard  over 
women ;  and  I  hope  our  champion  will  know  his  duty  better 
than  to  allow  himself  to  be  tied  to  any  nursery  girdle  in  Chris- 
tendom." 

The  brave  old  earl  was  offended  with  this  roughness  ;  but 
ere  he  could  so  express  himself,  its  object  darted  her  own 
severe  retort  on  Kirkpatrick,  and  then  turning  to  her  husband, 
with  a  hysterical  sob,  exclaimed,  "  It  is  well  seen  what  will  be 
my  fate  when  Wallace  is  gone  !  Would  he  have  stood  by  and 
beheld  me  thus  insulted  ?  " 

Distressed  with  shame  at  her  conduct,  and  anxious  to  remove 


184  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

her  fears,  Lord  Mar  softly  whispered  her,  and  threw  his  arm 
about  her  waist.  She  thrust  him  from  her.  "  You  care  not  what 
may  become  of  me,  and  my  heart  disdains  your  blandishments." 

Lennox  rose  in  silence  and  walked  to  the  other  end  of  the 
chamber.  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick  followed  him,  muttering 
pretty  audibly  his  thanks  to  St.  Andrew  that  he  had  never 
been  yoked  with  a  wife.  Scrymgeour  and  Murray  tried  to 
allay  the  storm  in  her  bosom  by  circumstantially  detailing  how 
the  fortress  must  be  equally  safe  under  the  care  of  Lennox 
as  of  Wallace.  But  they  discoursed  in  vain.  She  was  ob- 
stinate, and  at  last  left  the  room  in  a  passion  of  tears. 

On  the  return  of  Wallace,  Lord  Lennox  advanced  to  meet 
him.  "  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  said  he.  "  Without  you  have  the 
witchcraft  of  Hercules,  and  can  be  in  two  places  at  once,  I  fear 
we  must  either  leave  the  rest  of  Scotland  to  fight  for  itself,  or 
never  restore  peace  to  this  castle." 

Wallace  smiled  ;  but  before  he  could  answer,  Lady  Mar,  hav- 
ing heard  his  voice  ascending  the  stairs,  suddenly  entered  the 
room.  She  held  her  infant  in  her  arms.  Her  air  was  com- 
posed, but  her  eyes  yet  shone  with  tears.  At  this  sight  Lord 
Lennox,  sufficiently  disgusted  with  the  lady,  taking  Murray  by 
the  arm  withdrew  with  him  out  of  the  apartment. 

She  approached  Wallace.  "  You  are  come,  my  deliverer,  to 
speak  comfort  to  the  mother  of  this  poor  babe.  My  cruel  lord 
here,  and  the  Earl  of  Lennox,  say  you  mean  to  abandon  us  in 
this  castle." 

"  It  cannot  be  abandoned,"  returned  the  chief,  "  while  they 
are  in  it.  But  if  so  warlike  a  scene  alarms  you,  would  not  a 
religious  sanctuary  "  — 

"  Not  for  worlds  !  "  cried  she,  interrupting  him  ;  "  what  altar 
is  held  sacred  by  the  enemies  of  our  country  ?  Oh,  wonder  not., 
then,"  added  she,  putting  her  face  to  that  of  her  child,  "  that  I 
should  wish  this  innocent  babe  never  to  be  from  under  the 
wing  of  such  a  protector  !  " 

"  But  that  is  impossible,  Joanna,"  rejoined  the  earl.  "  Sir 
William  Wallace  has  duties  to  perform  superior  to  that  of  keep- 
ing watch  over  any  private  family.  His  presence  is  wanted  in 
the  field,  and  we  should  be  traitors  to  the  cause  did  we  detain 
him." 

"  Unfeeling  Mar,"  cried  she,  bursting  into  tears,  "  thus  to 
echo  the  words  of  the  barbarian  Kirkpatrick,  thus  to  condemn 
us  to  die.  You  will  see  another  tragedy :  your  own  wife  and 
child  seized  by  the  returning  Southrons  and  laid  bleeding  at 
your  feet." 


THE    CITADEL.  185 

Wallace  walked  from  her  much  agitated. 

"  Rather  inhuman,  Joanna,"  whispered  Lord  Mar  to  her  in 
an  angry  voice,  "  to  make  such  a  reference  in  the  presence  of 
our  protector.  I  cannot  stay  to  listen  to  a  pertinacity  as  in- 
sulting to  the  rest  of  our  brave  leaders  as  it  is  oppressive  to 
Sir  William  Wallace.  Edwin,  you  will  come  for  me  when 
your  aunt  consents  to  be  guided  by  right  reason. "  While  yet 
speaking  he  entered  the  passage  that  led  to  his  own  apartment. 

Lady  Mar  sat  a  few  minutes  silent.  She  was  not  to  be 
warned  from  her  determination  by  the  displeasure  of  a  husband 
whom  she  now  regarded  with  the  impatience  of  a  bondwoman 
towards  her  taskmaster ;  and,  only  solicitous  to  compass  the 
detention  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  she  resolved,  if  he  would 
not  remain  at  the  castle,  to  persuade  him  to  conduct  her  him- 
self to  her  husband's  territories  in  the  Isle  of  Bute.  She  could 
contrive  to  make  the  journey  occupy  more  than  one  day,  and 
for  holding  him  longer  she  would  trust  to  chance  and  her  own 
inventions.  With  these  resolutions  she  looked  up.  Edwin  was 
speaking  to  Wallace.  "What  does  he  tell  you,"  said  she; 
"  that  my  lord  has  left  me  in  displeasure  ?  Alas  !  he  compre- 
hends not  a  mother's  anxiety  for  her  sole  remaining  child.  One 
of  my  sweet  twins,  my  dear  daughter,  died  on  my  being  brought 
a  prisoner  to  this  horrid  fortress ;  and  to  lose  this  also  would 
be  more  than  I  could  bear.  Look  at  this  babe,"  cried  she,  hold- 
ing it  up  to  him ;  "  let  it  plead  to  you  for  its  life  !  Guard  it, 
noble  Wallace,  whatever  may  become  of  me." 

The  appeal  of  a  mother  made  instant  way  to  Sir  William's 
heart ;  even  her  weaknesses,  did  they  point  to  anxiety  respect- 
ing her  offspring,  were  sacred  to  him.  "What  would  you  have 
me  do,  madam  ?  If  you  fear  to  remain  here,  tell  me  where 
you  think  you  would  be  safer,  and  I  will  be  your  conductor.* 

She  paused  to  repress  the  triumph  with  which  this  proposal 
filled  her,  and  then  with  downcast  eyes  replied,  "  In  the  sea- 
girt Bute  stands  Rothsay,  a  rude  but  strong  castle  of  my 
lord's.  It  possesses  nothing  to  attract  the  notice  of  the  enemy, 
and  there  I  might  remain  in  perfect  safety.  Lord  Mar  may 
keep  his  station  here  until  a  general  victory  sends  you,  noble 
Wallace,  to  restore  my  child  to  its  father." 

Wallace  bowed  his  consent  to  her  proposal,  and  Edwin,  re- 
membering the  earl's  injunction,  inquired  if  he  might  inform 
him  of  what  was  decided.  When  he  left  the  room,  Lady  Mar 
rose,  and  suddenly  putting  her  son  into  the  arms  of  Wallace, 
"  Let  his  sweet  caresses  thank  you."  Wallace  trembled  as  she 
pressed  his  little  mouth  to  his,  and,  mistranslating  this  emotion, 


186  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

she  dropped  her  face  upon  the  infant's,  and,  in  affecting  to  kiss 
it,  rested  her  head  upon  the  bosom  of  the  chief.  There  was 
something  in  this  action  more  than  maternal ;  it  surprised  and 
disconcerted  Wallace.  "  Madam,"  said  he,  drawing  back  and 
relinquishing  the  child,  "  I  do  not  require  any  thanks  for  serv- 
ing the  wife  and  son  of  Lord  Mar." 

At  that  moment  the  earl  entered.  Lady  Mar  flattered  her- 
self that  the  repelling  action  of  Wallace  and  his  cold  answer 
had  arisen  from  the  expectation  of  this  entrance ;  yet,  blushing 
with  something  like  disappointment,  she  hastily  uttered  a  few 
agitated  words,  to  inform  her  husband  that  Bute  was  to  be  her 
future  sanctuary. 

Lord  Mar  approved  it,  and  declared  his  determination  to  ac- 
company her.  "  In  my  state,  I  can  be  of  little  use  here,"  said 
he  ;  "  my  family  will  require  protection  even  in  that  seclusion, 
and  therefore,  leaving  Lord  Lennox  sole  governor  of  Dumbar- 
ton, I  shall  unquestionably  attend  them  to  Rothsay  myself." 

This  arrangement  would  break  in  upon  the  lonely  conversa- 
tions she  had  meditated  to  have  with  Wallace,  and  therefore 
the  countess  objected  to  the  proposal.  But  none  of  her  argu- 
ments being  admitted  by  her  lord,  and  as  Wallace  did  not 
support  them  by  a  word,  she  was  obliged  to  make  a  merit  of 
necessity,  and  consent  to  her  husband  being  their  companion. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

RENFREWSHIRE. 

TOWARDS  evening  the  next  day  Ker  not  only  returned  with 
the  Earl  of  Lennox's  men,  but  brought  with  them  Sir  Eustace 
Maxwell,  of  Carlaveroch.  That  brave  knight  happened  to  be 
in  the  neighborhood  the  very  same  night  in  which  De  Valence 
fled  before  the  arms  of  Wallace  across  the  Clyde,  and  he  no 
sooner  saw  the  Scottish  colors  on  the  walls  of  Dumbarton,  than, 
finding  out  who  was  their  planter,  his  soul  took  fire,  and  stung 
with  a  generous  ambition  of  equalling  in  glory  his  equal  in 
years,  he  determined  to  assist,  while  he  emulated  the  victor. 

To  this  end  he  traversed  the  adjoining  country,  striving  to 
enlighten  the  understandings  of  the  stupidly  satisfied,  and  to 
excite  the  discontented  to  revolt.  With  most  he  failed.  Some 
took  upon  them  to  lecture  him  on  "  fishing  in  troubled  waters," 


RENFREWSHIRE.  187 

and  warned  him,  if  he  would  keep  his  head  on  his  shoulders,  to 
wear  his  yoke  in  peace.  Others  thought  the  project  too  ardu- 
ous for  men  of  small  means  ;  they  wished  well  to  the  arms  of 
Sir  William  Wallace,  and  should  he  continue  successful  would 
watch  the  moment  to  aid  him  with  all  their  little  power.  Those 
who  had  much  property  feared  to  risk  its  loss  by  embracing  a 
doubtful  struggle.  Some  were  too  great  cowards  to  fight  for 
the  rights  they  would  gladly  regain  by  the  exertions  of  others. 
And  others  again  who  had  families  shrunk  from  taking  part 
in  a  cause  which,  should  it  fail,  would  not  only  put  their  lives 
in  danger,  but  expose  their  offspring  to  the  revenge  of  a  resent- 
ful enemy.  This  was  the  best  apology  of  any  that  had  been 
offered ;  natural  affection  was  the  pleader ;  and  though  blinded 
to  its  true  interest,  such  weakness  had  an  amiable  source,  and 
so  Avas  pardoned.  But  the  other  pleas  were  so  basely  selfish, 
so  undeserving  of  anything  but  scorn,  that  Sir  Eustace  Max- 
well could  not  forbear  expressing  it.  "  When  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace is  entering  full  sail,  you  will  send  your  birlings  to  tow  him 
in ;  bu.t  if  a  plank  could  save  him  now,  you  would  not  throw  it 
to  him.  I  understand  you,  sirs,  and  shall  trouble  your  patriot- 
ism no  more." 

In  short,  none  but  about  a  hundred  poor  fellows  whom  out- 
rages had  rendered  desperate,  and  a  few  brave  spirits  who 
would  put  all  to  the  hazard  for  so  good  a  cause,  could  be  pre- 
vailed on  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  obey  Sir  Eustace 
when  he  should  see  the  moment  to  conduct  them  to  Sir  Wiliam 
Wallace.  He  was  trying  his  eloquence  amongst  the  clan  of 
Lennox,  when  Ker  arriving,  stamped  his  persuasions  with 
truth,  and  above  five  hundred  men  arranged  themselves  under 
their  lord's  standard.  Maxwell  gladly  explained  himself  to 
Wallace's  lieutenant,  and,  summoning  his  little  reserve,  they 
marched  with  flying  pennons  through  the  town  of  Dumbarton. 
At  sight  of  so  much  larger  a  power  than  they  expected  would 
venture  to  appear  in  arms,  and  sanctioned  by  the  example  of 
the  Earl  of  Lennox,  whose  name  held  a  great  influence  in  those 
parts,  several  who  had  before  held  back,  from  doubting  their 
own  judgment,  now  came  forward,  and  nearly  eight  hundred 
well-appointed  men  marched  into  the  fortress. 

So  large  a  reinforcement  was  gratefully  received  by  Wallace, 

and  he  welcomed  Maxwell  with  a  cordiality  which  inspired  that 

young  knight  with  an  affection  equal  to  his  zeal. 

-      A  council  being  held  respecting  the  disposal  of  the  new 

I  troops,  it  was  decided  that  the  Lennox  men  must  remain  with 

their  eai-1  in  garrison,  while  those  brought  by  Maxwell,  and 


188  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

under  his  command,  should  follow  Wallace  in  the  prosecution 
of  his  conquests  along  with  his  own  especial  people. 

These  preliminaries  being  arranged,  the  remainder  of  the 
day  was  dedicated  to  more  mature  deliberations,  to  the  unfold- 
ing of  the  plan  of  warfare  which  Wallace  had  conceived.  As 
he  first  sketched  the  general  outline  of  his  design,  and  then 
proceeded  to  the  particulars  of  each  military  movement,  he 
displayed  such  comprehensiveness  of  mind,  such  depth  of  pene- 
tration, clearness  of  apprehension,  facility  in  expedients, 
promptitude  in  perceiving,  and  fixing  on  the  most  favorable 
points  of  attack,  explaining  their  bearings  upon  the  power  of 
the  enemy,  and  where  the  possession  of  such  a  castle  would 
compel  the  neighboring  ones  to  surrender,  and  where  occupying 
the  hills  with  a  band  of  resolute  Scots  would  be  a  more  efficient 
bulwark  than  a  thousand  towers,  that  Maxwell  gazed  on  him 
with  admiration  and  Lennox  with  wonder. 

Mar  had  seen  the  power  of  his  arms,  Murray  had  already 
drunk  the  experience  of  a  veteran  from  his  genius,  hence  they 
were  not  surprised  on  hearing  that  which  filled  strangers  with 
amazement. 

Lennox  gazed  on  his  leader's  youthful  countenance,  doubting 
whether  he  really  were  listening  to  military  plans  great  as  gen- 
eral ever  formed,  or  were  visited,  in  vision,  by  some  heroic 
shade  who  offered  to  his  sleeping  fancy  designs  far  vaster  than 
his  waking  faculties  could  have  conceived.  He  had  thought 
that  the  younger  Wallace  might  have  won  Dumbarton  by  a 
bold  stroke,  and  that,  when  his  invincible  courage  should  be 
steered  by  graver  heads,  every  success  might  be  expected  from 
his  arms ;  but  now  that  he  had  heard  him  informing  veterans 
on  the  art  of  war,  and  saw  that  when  turned  to  any  cause  or 
policy,  "  the  Gordian  knot  of  it  he  did  unloose,  familiar  as  his 
garter,"  he  marvelled,  and  said  within  himself,  "  Surely  this 
man  is  born  to  be  a  sovereign." 

Maxwell,  though  equally  astonished,  was  not  so  rapt.  "  You 
have  made  arms  the  study  of  your  life  ?  "  inquired  he. 

"  It  was  the  study  of  my  earliest  days,"  returned  Wallace. 
"  But  when  Scotland  lost  her  freedom,  as  the  sword  was  hot 
drawn  in  her  defence,  I  looked  not  where  it  lay.  I  then  studied 
the  arts  of  peace ;  that  is  over,  and  now  the  passion  of  my  soul 
revives.  When  the  mind  is  bent  on  one  object  only,  all  becomes 
clear  that  leads  to  it,  —  zeal  in  such  cases  is  almost  genius." 

Soon  after  these  observations  it  was  admitted  that  Wallace 
might  attend  Lord  Mar  and  his  family  on  the  morrow  to  the 
Isle  of  Bute. 


RENFREWSHIRE.  189 

When  the  dawn  broke  he  arose  from  his  heather-bed  in  the 
great  tower,  and  having  called  forth  twenty  of  the  Bothwell 
men  to  escort  their  lord,  he  told  Ireland  he  should  expect  to 
have  a  cheering  account  of  the  wounded  on  his  return. 

"  But  to  assure  the  poor  fellows,"  rejoined  the  honest  sol- 
dier, "  that  something  of  yourself  still  keeps  watch  over  them, 
I  pray  you  leave  me  the  sturdy  sword  with  which  you  won  Dum- 
barton. It  shall  be  hung  up  in  their  sight,1  and  a  good  sol- 
dier's wounds  will  heal  by  looking  on  it." 

Wallace  smiled.  "  Were  it  our  holy  King  David's  we  might 
expect  such  a  miracle.  But  you  are  welcome  to  it,  and  here 
let  it  remain  till  I  take  it  hence.  Meanwhile  lend  me  yours, 
Stephen,  for  a  truer  never  fought  for  Scotland." 

A  glow  of  conscious  valor  flushed  the  cheek  of  the  veteran. 
"  There,  my  dear  lord,"  said  he,  presenting  it ;  "  it  will  not  dis- 
honor your  hand,  for  it  cut  down  many  a  proud  Norwegian  on 
the  field  of  Largs." 

Wallace  took  the  sword  and  turned  to  meet  Murray  with 
Edwin  in  the  portal.  When  they  reached  the  citadel,  Lennox 
and  all  the  officers  in  the  garrison  were  assembled  to  bid  their 
chief  a  short  adieu.  Wallace  spoke  to  each  separately,  and 
then  approaching  the  countess,  led  her  down  the  rock  to  the 
horses  which  were  to  convey  them  to  the  Frith. of  Clyde.  Lord 
Mar,  between  Murray  and  Edwin,  followed ;  and  the  servants 
and  guard  completed  the  suite. 

Being  well  mounted,  they  pleasantly  pursued  their  way, 
avoiding  all  inhabited  places,  and  resting  in  the  deepest  recesses 
of  the  hills.  Lord  Mar  had  proposed  travelling  all  night; 
but  at  the  close  of  the  evening  his  countess  complained  of 
fatigue,  declaring  she  could  not  advance  farther  than  the  east- 
ern bank  of  the  river  Cart.  No  shelter  appeared  in  sight  ex- 
cepting a  thick  and  extensive  wood  of  hazels  ;  but  the  air  being 
mild,  and  the  lady  declaring  her  inability  of  moving  on,  Lord 
Mar  at  last  became  reconciled  to  his  wife  and  son  passing  the 
night  with  no  other  canopy  than  the  trees.  Wallace  ordered 
cloaks  to  be  spread  on  the  ground  for  the  countess  and  her 
women,  and  seeing  them  laid  to  rest,  planted  his  men  to  keep 
guard  around  the  circle. 

1  This  tower  within  the  fortress  of  Dumbarton  is  still  called  Wallace's  tower,  and  a 
sword  is  shown  there  as  the  one  that  belonged  to  Wallace.  This  sword  was  brought  to 
the  Tower  of  London  a  few  years  ago  by  the  desire  of  our  late  King  George  IV.,  to  be 
kept  there  along  with  other  esteemed  British  relics.  But  the  Scottish  nation,  with  a  jeal- 
ous pride  in  their  champion's  weapon  of  victory  worthy  of  them,  became  discontented 
at  its  removal  ;  the  lower  orders,  particularly,  murmured  at  its  being  given  to  a  place 
where  his  life  had  been  taken  from  him,  and  our  gracious  monarch  commanded  that  it 
should  be  restored.  The  traveller  may  therefore  see  it  at  Dumbarton  still.  —  (1840.) 


190  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

The  moon  had  sunk  in  the  west  before  the  whole  of  his  little 
camp  were  asleep.  But  when  all  seemed  composed  he  wan- 
dered forth  by  the  dim  light  of  the  stars  to  view  the  surround- 
ing country,  —  a  country  he  had  so  often  traversed  in  his  boyish 
days.  A  little  onwards  in  green  Renfrewshire  lay  the  lands 
of  his  father  ;  but  that  Ellerslie  of  his  ancestors,  like  his  own 
Ellerslie  of  Clydesdale,  his  country's  enemies  had  levelled  with 
the  ground.  He  turned  in  anguish  of  heart  towards  the  south, 
for  there  less  racking  remembrances  hovered  over  the  distant 
hills. 

Leaning  on  the  shattered  stump  of  an  old  tree,  he  fixed 
his  eyes  on  the  far-stretching  plain,  which  alone  seemed 
to  divide  him  from  the  venerable  Sir  Eonald  Crawford  and 
his  youthful  haunts  at  Ayr.  Full  of  thoughts  of  her  who 
used  to  share  those  happy  scenes,  he  heard  a  sigh  behind 
him.  He  turned  round  and  beheld  a  female  figure  disap- 
pear amongst  the  trees.  He  stood  motionless ;  again  it  met 
his  view ;  it  seemed  to  approach.  A  strange  emotion  stirred 
within  him.  When  he  last  passed  these  borders  he  was 
bringing  his  bride  from  Ayr.  What,  then,  was  this  ethereal 
visitant  ?  The  silver  light  of  the  stars  was  not  brighter 
than  its  airy  robes  which  floated  in  the  wind.  His  heart 
paused ;  it  beat  violently.;  still  the  figure  advanced.  Lost 
in  the  wildness  of  his  imagination,  he  exclaimed,  "  Marion ! " 
and  darted  forwards,  as  if  to  rush  into  her  embrace.  But 
it  fled,  and  again  vanished.  He  dropped  upon  the  ground 
in  speechless  disappointment. 

"  'T  is  false ! "  cried  he,  recovering  from  his  first  expec- 
tation ;  "  7t  is  a  phantom  of  my  own  creating.  The  pure  spirit 
of  Marion  would  never  fly  me;  I  loved  her  too  well.  She 
would  not  thus  redouble  my  grief.  But  I  shall  go  to  thee, 
wife  of  my  soul ! "  cried  he ;  "  and  that  is  comfort.  Balm, 
indeed,  is  the  Christian's  hope  ! " 

Such  were  his  words,  such  were  his  thoughts,  till  the 
coldness  of  the  hour  and  the  exhaustion  of  nature  putting 
a  friendly  seal  upon  his  senses,  he  sunk  upon  the  bank 
and  fell  into  profound  sleep. 

When  he  awoke,  the  lark  was  carolling  above  his  head, 
and  to  his  surprise  he  found  that  a  plaid  was  laid  over 
him.  He  threw  it  off,  and  beheld  Edwin  seated  at  his 
feet.  "  This  has  been  your  doing,  my  kind  brother,"  said 
he;  "but  how  come  you  to  discover  rne  ?  " 

"  I  missed  you  when  the  dawn  broke,  and  at  last  found 
you  here,  sleeping  under  the  dew." 


THE    FIRTH    OF    CLYDE.  191 

"  And  has  none  else  been  astir  ? "  inquired  Wallace, 
thinking  of  the  figure  he  had  seen. 

"  None  that  I  know  of.  All  were  fast  asleep  when  I  left 
the  party." 

Wallace  began  to  fancy  that  he  had  been  laboring  under 
the  impressions  of  some  powerful  dream,  and  saying  no  more, 
he  returned  to  the  wood.  Finding  everybody  ready;  he  took 
his  station,  and  setting  forth,  all  proceeded  cheerfully, 
though  slowly,  through  the  delightful  valleys  of  Barochan. 
By  sunset  they  arrived  at  the  point  of  embarkation.  The 
journey  ought  to  have  been^  performed  in  half  the  time ;  but 
the  countess  petitioned  for  long  rests,  a  compliance  with 
which  the  younger  part  of  the  cavalcade  conceded  with 
reluctance. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    FIRTH    OF    CLYDE. 

AT  G-ourock  Murray  engaged  two  small  vessels,  one  for 
the  earl  and  countess,  with  Wallace  as  their  escort,'  the 
other  for  himself  and  Edwin,  to  follow  with  a  few  of  the 
men. 

It  was  a  fine  evening,  and  they  embarked  with  everything 
in  their  favor.  The  boatmen  calculated  on  reaching  Bute 
in  a  few  hours ;  but  ere  they  had  been  half  an  hour  at  sea, 
the  wind  veering  about,  obliged  them  to  woo  its  breezes 
by  a  traversing  motion,  which,  though  it  lengthened  their 
voyage,  increased  its  pleasantness,  by  carrying  them  often 
within  near  views  of  the  ever-varying  shores.  Sailing  under 
a  side  wind,  they  beheld  the  huge  irregular  rocks  of  Dunoon 
overhanging  the  ocean,  while  from  their  projecting  brows 
hung  every  shrub  which  can  live  in  that  saline  atmosphere. 

"There,"  whispered  Lady  Mar,  gently  inclining  towards 
Wallace,  "  might  the  beautiful  mermaid  of  Corie  Vrekin  *  keep 
her  court.  Observe  how  magnificently  those  arching  cliffs 
overhang  the  hollows,  and  how  richly  they  are  studded  with 
shells  and  sea-flowers." 

1  The  dangerous  gulf  of  Corie  Vrekin  lies  between  the  shores  of  Jura  and  Scarba.  Su- 
perstition  has  tenanted  its  shelves  and  eddies  with  every  fabulous  demon  of  the  ocean, 
and  amongst  tho  rest,  tells  a  thousand  wild  legends  of  a  beautiful  mermaid  who  holds 
her  marine  court  beneath  its  whirlpool.  Mr.  j.  Leyden  has  written  a  fine  ballad  on  this 
subject.  It  was  first  brought  to  my  delighted  notice  by  Mr.  Ilarral  a  brother  poet  of 
Doble  thoughts  and  sweet,  elegiac  pathos.  —  (1840.) 


192  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

No  flower  of  the  field  or  of  the  ocean  that  came  within  the 
ken  of  Wallace  wasted  its  sweetness  unadmired.  He  assented 
to  the  remarks  of  Lady  Mar,  who  continued  to  expatiate  on 
the  beanties  of  the  shore  which  they  passed ;  and  thus  the 
hours  fled  pleasantly  away,  till  turning  the  southern  point  of 
the  Cowal  mountains  the  scene  suddenly  changed.  The  wind, 
which  had  gradually  been  rising,  blew  a  violent  gale  from  that 
part  of  the  coast,  and  the  sea,  being  pent  between  the  rocks 
which  skirt  the  continent  and  the  northern  side  of  Bute,  be- 
came so  boisterous  that  the  boatmen  began  to  think  they  should 
be  driven  upon  the  rocks  of  the  island  instead  of  reaching  its 
bay.  Wallace  tore  down  the  sails,  and,  laying  his  nervous  arm 
to  the  oar,  assisted  to  keep  the  vessel  off  the  breakers  against 
which  the  waves  were  driving  her.  The  sky  collected  into  a 
gloom,  and  while  the  teeming  clouds  seemed  descending,  even 
to  rest  upon  the  cracking  masts,  the  swelling  of  the  ocean 
threatened  to  heave  her  up  into  their  very  bosoms. 

Lady  Mar  looked  with  affright  at  the  gathering  tempest,  and 
with  difficulty  was  persuaded  to  retire  under  the  shelter  of  a 
little  awning.  The  earl  forgot  his  debility  in  the  general 
terror,  and  tried  to  reassure  the  boatmen  ;  but  a  tremendous 
sweep  of  the  gale,  driving  the  vessel  far  across  the  head  of 
Bute,  shot  her  past  the  head  of  Loch  Fyne  towards  the  peril- 
ous rocks  of  Arran.  "  Here  our  destruction  is  certain,"  cried 
the  master  of  the  bark,  at  the  same  time  confessing  his  igno- 
rance of  the  navigation  on  this  side  of  the  island.  Lord  Mar, 
seizing  the  helm  from  the  stupefied  master,  called  to  Wallace, 
"  While  you  keep  the  men  to  their  duty,"  cried  he,  "  I  will 
steer." 

The  earl  being  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  coast,  Wal- 
lace gladly  saw  the  helm  in  his  hand ;  but  he  had  scarcely 
stepped  forward  himself  to  give  some  necessary  directions, 
when  a  heavy  sea  breaking  over  the  deck  carried  two  of  the 
poor  mariners  overboard.  Wallace  instantly  threw  out  a 
couple  of  ropes.  Then,  amidst  a  spray  so  blinding  that  the  ves- 
sel appeared  in  a  cloud,  and  while  buffeted  on  each  side  by  the 
raging  of  waves  which  seemed  contending  to  tear  her  to  pieces, 
she  lay-to  for  a  few  minutes  to  rescue  the  men  from  the  yawn- 
ing gulf ;  one  caught  a  rope  and  was  saved,  but  the  other  was 
seen  no  more. 

Again  the  bark  was  set  loose  to  the  current.  Wallace,  now 
with  two  rowers  only,  applied  his  whole  strength  to  their  aid. 
The  master  and  the  third  man  were  employed  in  the  unceasing 
toil  of  laving  out  the  accumulating  water. 


THE    FIRTH    OF    CLYDE.  198 

While  the  anxious  chief  tugged  at  the  oar  and  watched  the 
thousand  embattled  cliffs  which  threatened  destruction,  his  eye 
looked  for  the  vessel  that  contained  his  friends ;  but  the  liquid 
mountains  which  rolled  around  him  prevented  all  view,  and 
with  hardly  a  hope  of  seeing  them  again,  he  pursued  his  at- 
tempt to  preserve  the  lives  of  those  committed  to  his  care. 

All  this  while  Lady  Mar  lay  in  a  state  of  stupefaction.-  Hav- 
ing fainted  at  the  first  alarm  of  danger,  she  had  fallen  from 
swoon  to  swoon,  and  now  remained  almost  insensible  upon  the 
bosoms  of  her  maids.  In  a  moment  the  vessel  struck  with  a 
great  shock,  and  the  next  instant  it  seemed  to  move  with  a 
velocity  incredible.  "  The  whirlpool !  the  whirlpool !  "  re- 
sounded from  every  lip.  But  again  the  rapid  motion  was  sud- 
denly checked,  and  the  women,  fancying  they  had  struck  on 
the  Vrekin  rock,  shrieked  aloud.  The  cry,  and  the  terrified 
words  which  accompanied  it,  aroused  Lady  Mar.  She  started 
from  her  trance,  and  while  the  confusion  redoubled,  rushed 
toward  the  dreadful  scene. 

The  mountainous  waves  and  lowering  clouds,  borne  forward 
by  the  blast,  anticipated  the  dreariness  of  night.  The  last  rays 
of  the  setting  sun  had  long  passed  away,  and  the  deep  shadows 
of  the  driving  heavens  cast  the  whole  into  a  gloom  even  more 
terrific  than  absolute  darkness,  while  the  high  and  beetling 
rocks,  towering  aloft  in  precipitous  walls,  mocked  the  hopes  of 
the  sea-beaten  mariner,  should  he  even  buffet  the  waters  to 
reach  their  base  ;  and  the  jagged  shingles,  deeply  shelving  be- 
neath the  waves  or  projecting  their  pointed  summits  upward, 
showed  the  crew  where  the  rugged  death  would  meet  them. 

A  little  onward,  a  thousand  massy  fragments,  rent  by  former 
tempests  from  their  parent  cliffs,  lay  at  the  foundations  of  the 
immense  acclivities  which  faced  the  cause  of  their  present 
alarm  —  a  whirlpool  almost  as  terrific  as  that  of  Scarba.  The 
moment  the  powerful  blast  drove  the  vessel  within  the  influ- 
ence of  the  outward  edge  of  the  first  circle  of  the  vortex,  Wal- 
lace leaped  from  the  deck  on  the  rocks,  and  with  the  same 
rope  in  his  hand  with  which  he  had  saved  the  life  of  the  sea- 
man, he  called  to  the  two  men  to  follow  him,  who  yet  held 
similar  ropes,  fastened  like  his  own  to  the  prow  of  the  vessel ; 
and  being  obeyed,  they  strove,  by  towing  it  along,  to  stem  the 
suction  of  the  current. 

It  was  at  this  instant  that  Lady  Mar  rushed  forward  upon 
deck.  "  In,  for  your  life,  Joanna  !  "  exclaimed  the  earl.  She 
answered  him  not,  but  looked  wildly  around  her.  Nowhere 
could  she  see  Wallace. 

VOL.  I.  — 13 


194  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  Have  I  drowned  him  ?  "  cried  she  in  a  voice  of  frenzy,  and 
striking  the  women  from  her  who  would  have  held  her  back. 
"  Let  me  clasp  him,  even  in  the  deep  waters  !  " 

Happily  the  earl  lost  the  last  sentence  in  the  roaring  of  the 
storm. 

"  Wallace !  Wallace  ! "  cried  she,  wringing  her  hands  and  still 
struggling  with  her  women.  At  that  moment  a  huge  wave 
sinking  before  her  discovered  the  object  of  her  fears  straining 
along  the  surface  of  a  rock  and  followed  by  the  men  in  the 
same  laborious  task,  tugging  forward  the  ropes  to  which  the 
bark  was  attached.  She  gazed  at  them  with  wonder  and  af- 
fright ;  for  notwithstanding  the  beating  of  the  elements,  which 
seemed  to  find  their  breasts  of  iron,  and  their  feet  armed  with 
some  preternatural  adhesion  to  the  cliff,  they  continued  to 
bear  resolutely  onward.  Fortunately  they  did  not  now  labor 
against  the  wind.  Sometimes  they  pressed  forward  on  the 
level  edge  of  the  rock,  then  a  yawning  chasm  forced  them  to 
leap  from  cliff  to  cliff,  or  to  spring  on  some  more  elevated  pro- 
jection. Thus,  contending  with  the  vortex  and  the  storm,  they  at 
last  arrived  at  the  doubling  of  Cuthonrock,1  the  point  that 
was  to  clear  them  of  this  minor  Corie  Vrekin.  "Rut  at  that 
crisis  the  rope  which  Wallace  held  broke,  and  with  ^Iie  shock 
he  fell  backwards  into  the  sea.  The  foremost  man  uttered  a 
dreadful  cry,  but  ere  it  could  be  echoed  by  his  fellows  Wal- 
lace had  risen  above  the  waves,  and  beating  their  whelming 
waters  with  his  invincible  arm,  soon  gained  the  vessel  and 
jumped  upon  the  deck.  The  point  was  doubled  ;  but  the  next 
moment  the  vessel  struck,  and  in  a  manner  that  left  no  hope 
of  getting  her  off.  All  must  take  to  the  water  or  perish,  for 
the  second  shock  would  scatter  her  piecemeal. 

Again  Lady  Mar  appeared.  At  sight  of  Wallace  she 
forgot  everything  but  him,  and  perhaps  would  have  thrown 
herself  into  his  arms  had  not  the  anxious  earl  caught  her 
in  his  own. 

"Are  we  to  die?"  cried  she  to  Wallace,  in  a  voice  of 
horror. 

"  I  trust  that  God  has  decreed  otherwise,"  was  his  reply. 
"Compose  yourself,  all  may  yet  be  well." 

Lord  Mar,  from  his  yet  unhealed  wounds,  could  not 
swim;  Wallace  therefore  tore  up  the  benches  of  the  rowers, 
and  binding  them  into  the  form  of  a  small  raft,  made  it  the 
vehicle  for  the  earl  and  countess,  with  her  two  maids  and 
the  child.  While  the  men  were  towing  it  and  buffeting 

1  Cuthon  means  the  mournful  sound  of  waves. 


THE    FIRTH    OF    CLYDE.  195 

with  it  through  the  breakers,  he  too  threw  himself  into  the 
sea  to  swim  by  its  side,  and  be  in  readiness  in  case  of 
accident. 

Having  gained  the  shore,  or  rather  the  broken  rocks  that 
lie  at  the  foot  of  the  stupendous  craigs  which  surround  the 
Isle  of  Arran,  Wallace  and  his  sturdy  assistants  conveyed 
the  countess  and  her  terrified  women  up  their  acclivities. 
Fortunately  for  the  shipwrecked  voyagers,  though  the  wind 
raged,  its  violence  was  of  some  advantage,  for  it  nearly 
cleared  the  heavens  of  clouds,  and  allowed  the  moon  to 
send  forth  her  guiding  light.  By  her  lamp,  one  of  the 
men  discovered  the  mouth  of  a  cavern,  where  Wallace 
gladly  sheltered  his  dripping  charges. 

The  child,  whom  he  had  guarded  in  his  own  arms  during 
the  difficult  ascent,  he  now  laid  on  the  bosom  of  its  mother. 
Lady  Mar  kissed  the  hand  that  relinquished  it,  and  gave 
way  to  a  flood  of  grateful  tears. 

The  earl,  as  he  sank  almost  powerless  against  the  side 
of  the  cave,  yet  had  strength  enough  to  press  Wallace  to 
his  heart.  "  Ever  preserver  of  me  and  mine ! "  cried  he, 
"  how  must  I  bless  thee  ?  My  wife,  my  child  "  — 

"  Have  been  saved  to  you,  my  friend,"  interrupted  Wallace, 
"by  the  presiding  care  of  Him  who  walked  the  waves. 
Without  His  special  arm  we  must  all  have  perished  in  this 
awful  night,  therefore  let  our  thanksgivings  be  directed  to 
Him  alone." 

"So  be  it!"  returned  the  earl;  and  dropping  on  his 
knees  he  breathed  forth  so  pathetic  and  sublime  a  prayer 
of  thanks,  that  the  countess  trembled  and  bent  her  head 
upon  the  bosom  of  her  child.  She  could  not  utter  the 
solemn  Amen  that  was  repeated  by  every  voice  in  the  cave. 
Her  unhappy  infatuation  saw  no  higher  power  in  this  great 
preservation  than  the  hand  of  the  man  she  adored.  She 
felt  that  guilt  was  cherished  in  her  heart,  and  she  could  not 
lift  her  eyes  to  join  with  those  who,  with  the  boldness  of  inno- 
cence, called  on  Heaven  to  attest  the  sanctity  of  their  vows. 

Sleep  soon  sealed  every  weary  eye  excepting  those  of 
Wallace.  A  racking  anxiety  respecting  the  fate  of  the 
other  vessel,  in  which  were  the  brave  men  of  Bothwell,  and 
his  two  dear  friends,  tilled  his  mind  with  dreadful  fore- 
bodings that  they  had  not  outlived  the  storm.  Sometimes, 
when- wearied  nature  for  a  few  minutes  sunk  into  slumber, 
he  would  start,  grief-struck,  from  the  body  of  Edwin  floating 
on  the  briny  flood,  and  as  he  awoke  a  cold  despondence 


196  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

would  tell  him  that  his  dream  was  perhaps  too  true.  "  Oh, 
I  love  thee,  Edwin !  "  exclaimed  he  to  himself ;  "  and  if  my 
devoted  heart  was  to  be  separated  from  all  but  a  patriot's 
love  !  Why  did  I  think  of  loving  thee  ?  Must  thou  too  die, 
that  Scotland  may  have  no  rival,  that  Wallace  may  feel 
himself  quite  alone  ?  " 

Thus  he  sat  musing,  and  listening  with  many  a  sigh 
to  the  yelling  gusts  of  wind  and  louder  roaring  of  the 
water.  At  last  the  former  gradually  subsided,  and  the  latter, 
obeying  the  retreating  tide,  rolled  away  in  hoarse  murmurs. 

Morning  began  to  dawn,  and  spreading  upon  the  moun- 
tains of  the  opposite  shore,  shed  a  soft  light  over  their 
misty  sides.  All  was  tranquil  and  full  of  beauty.  That 
element,  which  so  lately  in  its  rage  had  threatened  to  engulf 
them  all,  now  flowed  by  the  rocks  at  the  foot  of  the  cave  in 
gentle  undulations ;  and  where  the  spiral  cliffs  gave  a  little 
resistance  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun,  striking  on  the  bursting 
waves,  turned  their  vapory  showers  into  dropping  gems. 

While  his  companions  were  still  wrapped  in  sleep,  Wallace 
stole  away  to  seek  some  knowledge  respecting  the  part  of  the 
Isle  of  Arran  on  which  they  were  cast.  Close  by  the  mouth 
of  the  cave  he  discovered  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  into  which  he 
turned,  and  finding  the  upward  footing  sufficiently  secure, 
clambered  to  the  summit.  Looking  around  he  found  himself 
at  the  skirt  of  a  chain  of  high  hills  which  seemed  to  stretch 
from  side  to  side  over  the  island,  while  their  tops,  in  alpine 
succession,  rose  in  a  thousand  grotesque  and  pinnacled  forms. 
The  ptarmigan  and  capperkaily  were  screaming  from  those 
upper  regions,  and  the  nimble  roes,  with  their  fawns,  bound- 
ing through  the  green  defiles  below.  No  trace  of  human 
habitation  appeared ;  but  from  the  size  and  known  population 
of  the  island,  he  knew  he  could  not  be  far  from  inhabitants, 
and  thinking  it  best  to  send  the  boatmen  in  search  of  them, 
he  retraced  his  steps.  The  morning  vapors  were  fast  rolling 
their  snowy  wreaths  down  the  opposite  mountains,  whose 
heads,  shining  in  resplendent  purple,  seemed  to  view  them- 
selves in  the  bright  reflections  of  the  now  smooth  sea. 
Nature,  like  a  proud  conqueror,  appeared  to  have  put  on  a 
triumphal  garb  in  exultation  of  the  devastation  she  had 
committed  the  night  before.  Wallace  shuddered  as  the 
parallel  occurred  to  his  mind,  and  turned  from  the  scene. 

On  reentering  the  cave  he  despatched  the  seamen,  and 
disposed  himself  to  watch  by  the  sides  of  his  still  sleep- 
ing friends.  An  hour  hardly  had  elapsed  before  the  men 


THE    FIRTH    OF    CLYDE.  197 

returned,  bringing  with  them  a  large  boat  and  its  proprietor. 
But,  alas!  no  tidings  of  Murray  and  Edwin,  whom  he  had 
hoped  might  have  been  driven  somewhere  on  the  island. 
In  bringing  the  boat  round  to  the  creek  under  the  rock, 
the  men  discovered  that  the  sea  had  driven  their  wreck 
between  two  projecting  rocks,  where  it  now  lay  wedged. 
Though  ruined  as  a  vessel,  sufficient  held  together  to  warrant 
their  exertions  to  save  the  property.  Accordingly  they  en- 
tered it,  and  drew  thence  most  of  the  valuables  which 
belonged  to  Lord  Mar. 

While  this  was  doing,  Wallace  reascended  to  the  cave,  and 
finding  the  earl  awake,  told  him  a  boat  was  ready  for  their 
reeinbarkation.  "  But  where,  my  friend,  are  my  nephews  ?  " 
inquired  he.  "  Alas !  has  this  fatal  expedition  robbed  me  of 
them  ?  " 

Wallace  tried  to  inspire  him  with  a  hope  he  scarcely 
dared  credit  himself,  that  they  had  been  saved  on  some 
more  distant  shore.  The  voices  of  the  chiefs  awakened  the 
women,  but  the  countess  still  slept.  Aware  that  she •» would 
resist  trusting  herself  to  the  waves  again,  Lord  Mar  desired 
that  she  might  be  moved  on  board  without  disturbing  her. 
This  was  readily  done,  the  men  having  only  to  take  up  the 
extremities  of  the  plaid  on  which  she  lay,  and  so  carry 
her,  with  an  imperceptible  motion,  to  the  boat.  The  earl 
received  her  head  on  his  bosom.  All  were  then  on  board; 
the  rowers  struck  their  oars,  and  once  more  the  little  party 
found  themselves  launched  upon  the  sea. 

While  they  were  yet  midway  between  the  isles,  with  a 
bright  sun  playing  its  sparkling  beams  upon  the  gently 
rippling  waves,  the  countess,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  slowly 
opened  her  eyes.  All  around  glared  with  the  light  of  day ; 
she  felt  the  motion  of  the  boat,  and  raising  her  head,  saw 
that  she  was  again  embarked  on  the  treacherous  element 
on  which  she  had  lately  experienced  so  many  terrors.  She 
grew  deadly  pale,  and  grasped  her  husband's  hand.  "My 
dear  Joanna,"  cried  he,  "  be  not  alarmed,  we  are  all  safe." 

"  And  Sir  William  Wallace  has  left  us  ?  "  demanded  she. 

"  No,  madam,"  answered  a  voice  from  the  steerage ;  "  not  till 
this  party  be  safe  at  Bute  do  I  quit  it." 

She  looked  round  with  a  grateful  smile.  "  Ever  generous ! 
How  could  I  for  a  moment  doubt  our  preserver  ?  " 

Wallace  bowed,  but  remained  silent,  and  they  passed  calmly 
along  till  the  vessel  came  in  sight  of  a  birling,1  which,  bound- 

1  Birling  is  a  small  boat  generally  used  by  fishers. 


198  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

ing  over  the  waves,  was  presently  so  near  the  earl's  that  the 
figures  in  each  could  be  distinctly  seen.  In  it,  the  chiefs,  to 
their  rapturous  surprise,  beheld  Murray  and  Edwin.  The  lat- 
ter, with  a  cry  of  joy,  leaped  into  the  sea  ;  the  next  instant  he 
was  over  the  boat's  side  and  clasped  in  the  arms  of  Wallace. 
Real  transport,  true  happiness,  now  dilated  the  heart  of  the 
before  despondent  chief.  He  pressed  the  dear  boy  again  and 
again  to  his  bosom,  and  kissed  his  white  forehead  with  all  the 
rapture  of  the  fondest  brother.  "  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !  " 
was  all  that  Edwin  could  say,  while  at  every  effort  to  tear  him- 
self from  Wallace,  to  congratulate  his  uncle  on  his  safety,  his 
heart  overflowing  towards  his  friend,  opened  afresh,  and  he 
clung  the  closer  to  his  breast,  till  at  last,  exhausted  with  happi- 
ness, the  little  hero  of  Dumbarton  gave  way  to  the  sensibility 
of  his  tender  age,  and  the  chief  felt  his  bosom  wet  with  the 
joy-drawn  tears  of  his  youthful  banneret. 

While  this  was  passing,  the  biiiing  had  drawn  close  to  the 
boat,  and  Murray,  shaking  hands  with  his  uncle  and  aunt,  ex- 
claimed to  Wallace,  "  That  urchin  is  such  a  monopolizer,  I  see  you 
have  not  a  greeting  for  any  one  else."  On  this  Edwin  raised 
his  face  and  turned  to  the  affectionate  welcomes  of  Lord  Mar. 
Wallace  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  ever-gay  Lord  Andrew, 
and,  inviting  him  into  the  boat,  soon  learnt  that  on  the  portent- 
ous beginning  of  the  storm  Murray's  company  made  direct  to 
the  nearest  creek  in  Bute,  being  better  seamen  than  Wallace's 
helmsman,  who,  until  danger  stopped  him,  had  foolishly  con- 
tinued to  aim  for  Rothsay.  By  this  prudence,  without  having 
been  in  much  peril  or  sustained  any  fatigue,  Murray's  party 
had  landed  safely.  The  night  came  on  dark  and  tremendous,  but 
not  doubting  that  the  earl's  rowers  had  carried  him  into  a 
similar  haven,  the  young  chief  and  his  companion  kept  them- 
selves very  easy  in  a  fisher's  hut  till  morning.  At  an  early 
hour  they  then  put  themselves  at  the  head  of  the  Bothwell  men, 
and,  expecting  they  should  come  up  with  Wallace  and  his  party 
at  Rothsay,  walked  over  to  the  castle.  Their  consternation 
was  unutterable  when  they  found  that  Lord  Mar  was  not  there, 
neither  had  he  been  heard  of.  Full  of  terror,  Murray  and  Ed- 
win threw  themselves  into  a  oirling  to  seek  their  friends  upon 
the  seas,  and  when  they  did  espy  them,  the  joy  of  Edwin 
was  so  great  that  not  even  the  unfathomable  gulf  could  stop 
him  from  flying  to  the  embrace  of  his  friend. 

While  mutual  felicitations  passed,  the  boats,  now  nearly  side 
by  side,  reached  the  shore,  and  the  seamen  jumping  on  the 
rocks,  moored  their  vessels  under  the  projecting  towers  of 


THE    FIRTH    OF    CLYDE.  199 

Rothsay.  The  old  steward  hastened  to  receive  a  master  who 
had  not  blessed  his  aged  eyes  for  many  a  year,  and  when  he 
took  the  infant  in  his  arms  that  was  to  be  the  future  represent- 
ative of  the  house  of  Mar,  he  wept  aloud.  The  earl  spoke  to 
him  affectionately,  and  then  walked  on  with  Edwin,  whom  he 
called  to  support  him  up  the  bank.  Murray  led  the  countess 
out  of  the  boat,  while  the  Bothwell  men  so  thronged  about 
Wallace,  congratulating  themselves  on  his  safety,  that  she  saw 
there  was  no  hope  of  his  arm  being  then  offered  to  her. 

Having  entered  the  castle,  the  steward  led  them  into  a  room 
in  which  he  had  spread  a  plentiful  repast.  Here  Murray,  hav- 
ing recounted  the  adventures  of  his  voyage,  called  for  a  history 
of  what  had  befallen  his  friends.  The  earl  gladly  took  up  the 
tale,  and,  with  many  a  glance  of  gratitude  to  Wallace,  narrated 
the  perilous  events  of  their  shipwreck  and  providential  preser- 
vation on  the  Isle  of  Arran. 

Happiness  now  seemed  to  have  shed  her  heavenly  influence . 
over  every  bosom.  All  hearts  owned  the  grateful  effects  of 
the  late  rescue.  The  rapturous  joy  of  Edwin  burst  into  a 
thousand  sallies  of  ardent  and  luxuriant  imagination.  The 
high  spirits  of  Murray  turned  every  transient  subject  into  a 
"  mirth-moving  jest."  The  veteran  earl  seemed  restored  to 
health  and  to  youth,  and  Wallace  felt  the  sun  of  consolation 
expanding  in  his  bosom.  He  had  met  a  heart,  though  a  young 
one,  on  which  his  soul  might  repose ;  that  dear  selected  brother 
of  his  affection  was  saved  from  the  whelming  waves,  and  all  his 
superstitious  dreams  of  a  mysterious  doom  vanished  before  this 
manifestation  of  heavenly  goodness.  His  friend,  too,  the  gal- 
lant Murray,  was  spared.  How  many  subjects  had  he  for  un- 
murmuring gratitude  !  And  with  an  unclouded  brow  and  a 
happy  spirit  he  yielded  to  the  impulse  of  the  scene.  He 
smiled,  and  with  an  endearing  graciousness  listened  to  every 
'fond  speaker,  while  his  own  ingenuous  replies  bespoke  the 
treasures  of  love  w,hich  sorrow  in  her  cruelest  aspect  had 
locked  within  his  heart. 

The  complacency  with  which  he  regarded  every  one,  the 
pouring  out  of  his  beneficent  spirit,  which^seemed  to  embrace 
all,  like  his  dearest  kindred,  turned  every  eye  and  heart 
towards  him  as  to  the  source  of  every  bliss,  as  to  a  being  who 
seemed  made  to  love  and  be  beloved  by  every  one.  Lady 
Mar  looked  at  him,  listened  to  him,  with  her  rapt  soul  seated 
in  her  eye.  In  his  presence  all  was  transport. 

But  when  he  withdrew  for  the  night,  what  was  then  the 
state  of  her  feelings  ?  The  overflowing  of  heart  he  felt  for  all, 


200  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

she  appropriated  solely  to  herself.  The  sweetness  of  his  voice, 
the  unutterable  expression  of  his  countenance,  while,  as  he 
spoke,  he  veiled  his  eyes  under  their  long,  brown  lashes,  had 
raised  such  vague  hopes  in  her  bosom,  that,  he  being  gone, 
she  hastened  her  adieus  to  the  rest,  eager  to  retire  to  bed,  and 
there  uninterruptedly  muse  on  the  happiness  of  having  at  last 
touched  the  heart  of  a  man  for  whom  she  would  resign  the 
world. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

ISLE    OF    BUTE. 

THE  morning  would  have  brought  annihilation  to  the 
countess's  new-fledged  hopes  had  not  Murray  been  the  first  to 
meet  her  as  she  came  from  her  chamber. 

While  walking  on  the  cliffs  at  some  distance  from  the  castle 
to  observe  the  weather,  he  met  Wallace  and  Edwin.  They  had 
already  been  across  the  valley  to  the  haven  and  ordered  a 
boat  round  to  convey  them  back  to  Gourock.  "  Postpone  your 
flight,  for  pity's  sake ! "  cried  Murray,  "  if  you  would  not  by 
discourtesy  destroy  what  your  gallantry  has  preserved."  He 
then  told  them  that  Lady  Mar  was  preparing  a  feast  in  the 
glen  behind  the  castle ;  "  and  if  we  do  not  stay  to  partake  it," 
added  he,  "  we  may  expect  all  the  witches  in  the  isle  will  be 
bribed  to  sink  us  before  we  reach  the  shore." 

After  this  the  general  meeting  of  the  morning  was  not  less 
cordial  than  the  separation  of  the  night  before  ;  and  when  Lady 
Mar  withdrew  to  give  orders  for  her  rural  banquet,  that  time 
was  seized  by  the  earl  for  the  arrangement  of  matters  of  more 
consequence.  In  a  private  conversation  with  Murray  the  pre- 
ceding evening  he  had  learnt  that  just  before  the  party  left 
Dumbarton  a  letter  had  been  sent  to  Helen  at  St.  Fillan's,  in- 
forming her  of  the  taking  of  the  castle  and  of  the  safety  of  her 
friends.  This  having  satisfied  the  earl,  he  did  not  advert  to 
her  at  all  in  his  present  discourse  with  Wallace,  but  rather 
avoided  encumbering  his  occupied  mind  with  anything  but  the 
one  great  theme. 

While  the  earl  and  his  friends  were  marshalling  armies,  tak- 
ing towns  and  storming  castles,  the  countess,  intent  on  other 
conquests,  was  meaning  to  beguile  and  destroy  that  manly 
spirit  by  soft  delights,  which  a  continuance  in  war's  rugged 
scenes,  she  thought,  was  too  likely  to  render  invulnerable. 


ISLE    OF   BUTE.  201 

When  her  lord  and  his  guests  were  summoned  to  the  feast 
she  met  them  at  the  mouth  of  the  glen.  Having  tried  the  effect 
of  splendor,  she  now  left  all  to  the  power  of  her  natural  charms, 
and  appeared  simply  clad  in  her  favorite  green.1  Moraig,  the 

Eretty  grandchild  of  the  steward,  walked  beside  her  like  the 
dry  queen  of  the  scene,  so  gayly  was  she  decorated  in  all  the 
flowers  of  spring.  "  Here  is  the  lady  of  my  elfin  revels,  hold- 
ing her  little  king  in  her  arms."  As  the  countess  spoke  Moraig 
held  up  the  infant  of  Lady  Mar,  dressed  like  herself  in  a  tissue 
gathered  from  the  field.  The  sweet  babe  laughed  and  crowed 
and  made  a  spring  to  leap  into  Wallace's  arms.  The  chief 
took  him,  and  with  an  affectionate  smile  pressed  his  little  cheek 
to  his. 

Though  he  had  felt  the  repugnance  of  a  delicate  mind,  and 
the  shuddering  of  a  man  who  held  his  person  consecrated  to 
the  memory  of  the  only  woman  he  had  ever  loved ;  though  he 
had  felt  these  sentiments  mingle  into  an  abhorrence  of  the 
countess  when  she  allowed  her  head  to  drop  on  his  breast  in 
the  citadel;  and  though,  while  he  remained  at  Dumbarton 
(without  absolutely  charging  her  to  himself  with  anything  de- 
signedly immodest),  he  had  certainly  avoided  her:  yet,  since 
the  wreck,  the  danger  she  had  escaped,  the  general  joy  of  all 
meeting  again,  had  wiped  away  even  the  remembrance  of  his 
former  cause  of  dislike,  and  he  now  sat  by  her  as  by  a  sister 
fondling  her  child,  although  at  every  sweet  caress  it  reminded 
him  of  what  might  have  been  his,  —  of  hopes  lost  to  him  for- 
ever. 

The  repast  over,  the  piper  of  the  adjacent  cottages  appeared, 
and  placing  himself  on  a  projecting  rock,  at  the  carol  of  his 
merry  instrument  the  young  peasants  of  both  sexes  jocundly 
came  forward  and  began  to  dance.  At  this  sight  Edwin  seized 
the  little  hand  of  Moraig,  while  Lord  Andrew  called  a  pretty- 
lass  from  amongst  the  rustics  and  joined  the  group.  The 
happy  earl,  with  many  a  hearty  laugh,  enjoyed  the  jollity  of 
his  people ;  and  while  the  steward  stood  at  his  lord's  back,  de- 
scribing whose  sons  and  daughters  passed  before  him  on  the 
reel,  Mar  remembered  their  parents ;  their  fathers,  once  his 
companions  in  the  chase  or  on  the  wave,  and  their  mothers, 
the  pretty  maidens  fre  used  to  pursue  over  the  hills  in  the 
merry  time  of  shealiuig.2  * 

Lady  Mar  watched  the  countenance  of  Wallace  as  he  looked 
upon  the  joyous  group.  It  was  placid,  and  a  soft  complacency 

1  Green  was  the  color  most  worn  by  the  ladies  in  the  early  ages  of  Scotland. 
*  Shealing,  the  festival  of  the  shepherds,  when  they  went  into  the  mountains  at  a 
certain  time  of  the  year  to  feed  their  docks. 


202  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

illumined  his  eye.  How  different  was  the  expression  in  hers, 
had  he  marked  it !  All  within  her  was  in  tumults,  and  the 
characters  were  but  too  legibly  imprinted  on  her  face.  But  he 
did  not  look  on  her,  for  the  child,  whom  the  perfume  of  the 
flowers  overpowered,  began  to  cry.  He  rose,  and  having  re^ 
signed  it  to  the  nurse,  turned  into  a  narrow  vista  of  trees, 
where  he  walked  slowly  on,  unconscious  whither  he  went. 

Lady  Mar,  with  an  eager,  though  almost  aimless  haste,  fol- 
lowed him  with  a  light  step  till  she  saw  him  turn  out  of  the 
vista,  and  then  she  lost  sight  of  him.  To  walk  with  him  un- 
disturbed in  so  deep  a  seclusion ;  to  improve  the  impression 
which  she  was  sure  she  had  made  upon  his  heart ;  to  teach  him 
to  forget  his  Marion  in  the  hope  of  one  day  possessing  her. 
All  these  thoughts  ran  in  this  vain  woman's  head;  and  in- 
wardly rejoicing  that  the  shattered  health  of  her  husband  prom- 
ised her  a  ready  freedom  to  become  the  wife  of  the  man  to 
whom  she  would  gladly  belong,  in  honor  or  in  dishonor,  she 
hastened  forward,  as  if  the  accomplishment  of  her  wishes  de- 
pended on  this  meeting.  Peeping  through  the  trees  she  saw 
him  standing  with  folded  arms,  looking  intently  into  the  bosom 
of  a  large  lake,  but  the  place  was  so  thickly  surrounded  with 
willows  she  could  only  perceive  him  at  intervals  when  the  wind 
tossed  aside  the  branches. 

Having  stood  for  some  time,  he  walked  on.  Several  times 
she  essayed  to  emerge  and  join  him,  but  a  sudden  awe  of  him, 
a  conviction  of  that  saintly  purity  which  would  shrink  from 
the  guilty  vows  she  was  meditating  to  pour  into  his  ear,  a  rec- 
ollection of  the  ejaculation  with  which  he  had  accosted  her 
before-hovering  figure  when  she  haunted  his  footsteps  on  the 
banks  of  the  Cart  —  these  thoughts  made  her  pause.  He  might 
again  mistake  her  for  the  same  dear  object.  This  image  it  was 
not  her  interest  to  recall.  And  to  approach  him  near,  to  unveil 
her  heart  to  him,  and  to  be  repulsed,  there  was  madness  in  the 
idea,  and  she  retreated. 

She  had  no  sooner  returned  to  the  scene  of  festivity  than  she 
repented  having  allowed  what  she  deemed  an  idle  alarm  of 
overstrained  delicacy  to  drive  her  from  the  lake.  She  would 
have  hastened  back,  had  not  two  or  three  aged  female  peasants 
almost  instantly  engaged  her,  in  spite  of  her  struggles  for  ex- 
trication, to  listen  to  long  stoftes  respecting  her  lord's  youth. 
She  remained  thus  an  unwilling  auditor,  and  by  the  side  of  the 
dancers,  for  nearly  an  hour  before  Wallace  reappeared.  But 
then  she  sprang  towards  him  as  if  a  spell  were  broken 
"  Where,  truant,  have  you  been  ?  " 


ISLE    OF    BUTE.  203 

"In  a  beautiful  solitude,"  returned  he,  "  amongst  a  luxuriant 
grove  of  willows." 

"  Ay,"  cried  she,  "  it  is  called  Grlenshealeach ; '  and  a  sad 
scene  was  acted  there.  About  ten  years  ago  a  lady  of  this  isl- 
and drowned  herself  in  the  lake  they  hang  over,  because  the 
man  she  loved  —  despised  her." 

"  Unhappy  woman ! "  observed  Wallace. 

u  Then  you  would  have  pitied  her  ?  "  rejoined  Lady  Mar. 

"  He  cannot  be  a  man  that  would  not  pity  a  woman  under 
such  circumstances." 

"  Then  you  would  not  have  consigned  her  to  such  a  fate  ?  " 

Wallace  was  startled  by  the  peculiar  tone  in  which  this  sim- 
ple question  was  asked.  It  recalled  the  action  in  the  citadel, 
and  unconsciously  turning  a  penetrating  look  on  her,  his  eyes 
met  hers.  He  need  not  have  heard  further  to  have  learnt 
more.  She  hastily  looked  down  and  colored,  and  he,  wishing 
to  misunderstand  a  language  so  disgraceful  to  herself,  so  dishon- 
oring to  her  husband,  gave  some  trifling  answer ;  then,  mak- 
ing a  slight  observation  about  the  earl,  he  advanced  to  him. 
Lord  Mar  was  become  tired  with  so  gala  a  scene,  and  taking 
the  arm  of  Wallace  they  returned  together  into  the  house. 

Edwin  soon  followed  with  Murray,  gladly  arriving  time 
enough  to  see  their  little  pinnace  draw  up  under  the  castle 
and  throw  out  her  moorings.  The  countess,  too,  descried  its 
streamers,  and  hastening  into  the  room  where  she  knew  the 
chiefs  were  yet  assembled,  though  the  wearied  earl  had  retired 
to  repose,  inquired  the  reason  of  that  boat  having  drawn  so 
near  the  castle. 

"  That  it  may  take  us  from  it,  fair  aunt,"  replied  Murray. 

The  countess  fixed  her  eyes  with  an  unequivocal  expression 
upon  Wallace.  "  My  gratitude  is  ever  due  to  your  kindness, 
noble  lady,"  said  he,  still  wishing  to  be  blind  to  what  he  could 
not  but  perceive,  "  and  that  we  may  ever  deserve  it,  we  go  to 
keep  the  enemy  from  your  doors." ' 

"  Yes/'  added  Murray,  "  and  to  keep  a  more  insidious  foe 
from  our  own.  Edwin  and  I  feel  it  rather  dangerous  to  bask 
too  long  in  these  sunny  bowers." 

"  But  surely  your  chief  is  not  afraid  ?  "  said  she,  casting  a 
soft  glance  at  Wallace. 

"  Yet,  nevertheless,  I  must  fly,"  returned  he,  bowing  to  her. 

"  That  you  positively  shall  not,"  added  she,  with  a  fluttering 
joy  at  her  heart,  thinking  she  was  about  to  succeed;  "you  stir 
not  this  night,  else  I  shall  brand  you  all  as  a  band  of  cowards." 

1  Glens healeach  means  valley  of  willows. 


204  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  Call  us  by  every  name  in  the  poltroon's  calendar,"  cried 
Murray,  seeing  by  the  countenance  of  Wallace  that  his  resolu- 
tion was  not  to  be  moved ;  "  yet  I  must  gallop  off  from  your 
black-eyed  Judith  as  if  chased  by  the  ghost  of  Holofernes  him- 
self." 

"  So,  dear  aunt,"  rejoined  Edwin,  smiling,  "  if  you  do  not 
mean  to  play  Circe  to  our  Ulysses,  give  us  leave  to  go." 

Lady  Mar  started,  confused,  she  knew  not  how,  as  he  inno- 
cently uttered  these  words.  The  animated  boy  snatched  a  kiss 
from  her  hand  when  he  ceased  speaking,  and  darted  after 
Murray,  who  had  disappeared  to  give  some  speeding  directions 
respecting  the  boat. 

Left  thus  alone  with  the  object  of  her  every  wish,  in  the 
moment  when  she  thought  she  was  going  to  lose  him  perhaps 
forever,  she  forgot  all  prudence,  all  reserve,  and  laying  her 
hand  on  his  arm,  as  with  a  respectful  bow  he  was  also  moving 
away,  she  arrested  his  steps.  She  held  him  fast;  but  agitation 
preventing  her  speaking,  she  trembled  violently,  and,  weeping, 
dropped  her  head  upon  his  shoulder.  He  was  motionless. 
Her  tears  redoubled.  He  felt  the  embarrassment  of  his  situ- 
ation ;  and  at  last,  extricating  his  tongue,  which  surprise 
and  shame  for  her  had  chained,  in  a  gentle  voice  he  inquired 
the  cause  of  her  uneasiness.  "If  for  the  safeties  of  your 
nephews " — 

"  No,  no,"  cried  she,  interrupting  him ;  "  read  my  fate  in  that 
of  the  Lady  of  Glenshealeach." 

Again  he  was  silent;  astonished,  fearful  of  too  promptly 
understanding  so  disgraceful  a  truth,  he  found  no  words  in 
which  to  answer  her,  and  her  emotions  became  so  uncontrolled 
that  he  expected  she  would  swoon  in  his  arms. 

"Cruel,  cruel  Wallace  !"  at  last  cried  she,  clinging  to  him, 
for  he  had  once  or  twice  attempted  to  disengage  himself  and 
reseat  her  on  the  bench,  "  your  heart  is  steeled,  or  it  would 
understand  mine.  It  would  at  least  pity  the  wretchedness  it 
has  created.  But  I  am  despised,  —  and  I  can  yet  find  the 
watery  grave  from  which  you  rescued  me." 

To  dissemble  longer  would  have  been  folly.  Wallace,  now 
resolutely  seating  her,  though  with  gentleness,  addressed  her: 
"  Your  husband,  Lady  Mar,  is  my  friend ;  had  I  even  a  heart 
to  give  to  woman,  not  one  sigh  should  arise  in  it  to  his  dis- 
honor. But  I  am  lost  to  all  warmer  affections  than  that  of 
friendship.  I  may  regard  man  as  my  brother,  woman  as  my 
sister,  but  never  more  can  I  look  on  female  form  with  love.''* 

Lady  Mar's  tears  now  flowed  in  a  more  tempered  current. 


ISLE    OF   BUTE.  205 

"But  were  it  otherwise,"  cried  she,  "only  tell  me  that  had 
I  not  been  bound  with  chains  which  my  kinsmen  forced  upon 
me;  had  I  not  been  made  the  property  of  a  man  who, 
however  estimable,  was  of  too  paternal  years  for  me  to  love ; 
ah !  tell  me  if  these  tears  should  now  flow  in  vain  ?  " 

Wallace  seemed  to  hesitate  what  to  answer. 

Wrought  up  to  agony,  she  threw  herself  on  his  breast, 
exclaiming,  "  Answer  !  but  drive  me  not  to  despair.  I  never 
loved  man  before  —  and  now  to  be  scorned !  Oh,  kill  me, 
too  dear  Wallace,  but  tell  me  not  that  you  never  could 
have  loved  me  ! " 

Wallace  was  alarmed  at  her  vehemence.  "  Lady  Mar," 
returned  he,  "I  am  incapable  of  saying  anything  to  you 
that  is  inimical  to  your  duty  to  the  best  of  men.  I  will 
even  forget  this  distressing  conversation,  and  continue  through 
life  to  revere,  equal  with  himself,  the  wife  of  my  friend." 

"  And  I  am  to  be  stabbed  with  this  ? "  replied  she,  in  a 
voice  of  indignant  anguish. 

"You  are  to  be  healed  with  it,  Lady  Mar,"  returned 
he,  "for  it  i«  not  a  man  like  the  rest  of  his  sex  that 
now  addresses  you,  but  a  being  whose  heart  is  petrified  to 
marble.  I  could  feel  no  throb  of  yours,  I  should  be  insensi- 
ble to  all  your  charms,  were  I  even  vile  enough  to  see  no  evil 
in  trampling  upon  your  husband's  rights.  Yes,  were  virtue 
lost  to  me,  still  memory  would  speak,  still  would  she  urge 
that  the  chaste  and  last  kiss  imprinted  by  my  wife  on  these 
lips  should  live  there  in  unblemished  sanctity  till  I  again 
.meet  her  angel  embraces  in  the  world  to  come." 

The  countess,  awed  by  his  solemnity,  but  not  put  from 
her  suit,  exclaimed,  "What  she  was  I  would  be  to  thee 
—  thy  consoler,  thine  adorer.  Time  may  set  me  free.  Oh ! 
till  then,  only  give  me  leave  to  love  thee,  and  I  shall  be 


rou  dishonor  yourself,  lady,"  returned  he,  "by  these 
petitions  ;  and  for  what  ?  You  plunge  your  soul  in  guilty 
wishes  —  you  sacrifice  your  peace  and  your  self-esteem  to  a 
phantom ;  for,  I  repeat,  I  am  dead  to  woman ;  and  the  voice 
of  love  sounds  like  the  funeral  knell  of  her  who  will  never 
breathe  it  to  me  again."  He  rose  as  he  spoke,  and  the 
countess,  pierced  to  the  heart  and  almost  despairing  of  now 
retaining  any  part  in  his  esteem,  was  devising  what  next  to 
say,  when  Murray  came  into  the  room. 

Wallace    instantly    observed    that    his    countenance    was 
troubled.     "  What  has  happened  ?  "  inquired  he. 


206  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"A  messenger  from  the  mainland  with  bad  news  from 
Ayr." 

"  Of  private  or  public  import  ?  "  rejoined  Wallace. 

"  Of  both.  There  has  been  a  horrid  massacre,  in  which 
the  heads  of  many  noble  families  have  fallen."  As  he  spoke, 
the  paleness  of  his  countenance  revealed  to  his  friend  that 
part  of  the  information  he  had  found  himself  unable  to 
communicate. 

"  I  comprehend  my  loss,"  cried  Wallace.  "  Sir  Ronald 
Crawford  is  sacrificed !  Bring  the  messenger  in." 

Murray  withdrew,  and  Wallace,  seating  himself,  remained, 
with  a  fixed  and  stern  countenance,  gazing  on  the  ground. 
Lady  Mar  durst  not  breathe  for  fear  of  disturbing  the  horrid 
stillness  which  seemed  to  lock  up  grief  and  indignation. 

Lord  Andrew  reentered  with  a  stranger.  Wallace  rose  to 
meet  him,  and  seeing  Lady  Mar,  "  Countess,"  said  he,  "  these 
bloody  recitals '  are  not  for  your  ears ; "  and  waving  her  to 
withdraw,  she  left  the  room. 

"This  gallant  stranger,"  said  Murray,  "is  Sir  John  Gra- 
ham. He  has  just  left  that  new  theatre  of  Southron  perfidy." 

"  I  have  hastened  hither,"  cried  the  knight,  "  to  call  your 
victorious  arm  to  take  a  signal  vengeance  on  the  murderers  of 
your  grandfather.  He  and  eighteen  other  Scottish  chiefs  have 
been  treacherously  put  to  death  in  the  Barns  of  Ayr."  l 

Graham  then  gave  a  brief  narration  of  the  direful  circum- 
stance. He  and  his  father,  Lord  Dundaff,  having  crossed  the 
south  coast  of  Scotland  in  their  way  homeward,  stopped  to  rest 
at  Ayr.  They  arrived  there  the  very  day  that  Lord  Aymer  de 
Valence  had  entered  it  a  fugitive  from  Dumbarton  castle.  Much 
as  that  earl  wished  to  keep  the  success  of  Wallace  a  secret 
from  the  inhabitants  of  Ayr,  he  found  it  impossible.  Two  or 
three  fugitive  soldiers  whispered  the  hard  fighting  they  had 
endured,  and  in  half  an  hour  after  the  arrival  of  the  English 
earl,  every  soul  knew  that  the  recovery  of  Scotland  was  begun. 
Elated  with  this  intelligence,  the  Scots  went,  under  night,  from 
house  to  house,  congratulating  each  other  on  so  miraculous  an 
interference  in  their  favor  ;  and  many  stole  to  Sir  Ronald  Craw- 
ford to  felicitate  the  venerable  knight  on  his  glorious  grandson. 
The  good  old  man  listened  with  meek  joy  to  their  animated 
eulogiums  on  Wallace ;  and  when  Lord  Dundaff,  in  offering  his 
congratulations  with  the  rest,  said,  "  But  while  all  Scotland  lay 
in  vassalage,  where  did  he  imbibe  this  spirit  to  tread  down 

i  The  Barns  of  Ayr  were  the  barracks,  or  palaces,  built  in  that  town  by  King  Edward 
for  the  occasional  residence  of  his  viceroy,  the  Lord  Warden.  —  (1809.) 


ISLE    OF   BUTE.  207 

tyrants  ?  "  The  venerable  patriarch  replied,  "  He  was  always 
a  noble  boy.  In  infancy  he  became  the  defender  of  every  child 
he  saw  oppressed  by  boys  of  greater  power ;  he  was  even  the 
champion  of  the  brute  creation,  and  no  poor  animal  was  ever 
attempted  to  be  tortured  near  him.  The  old  looked  on  him 
for  comfort,  the  young  for  protection.  From  infancy  to  man- 
hood he  has  been  a  benefactor,  and,  though  the  cruelty  of  our 
enemies  have  widowed  his  youthful  years,  though  he  should 
go  childless  to  the  grave,  the  brightness  of  his  virtues  will  now 
spread  more  glories  round  the  name  of  Wallace  than  a  thousand 
posterities."  Other  ears  than  those  of  Dundaff  heard  this  hon- 
est exultation. 

The  next  morning  this  venerable  old  man  and  other  chiefs 
of  similar  consequence  were  summoned  by  Sir  Richard  Arnulf, 
the  governor,  to  his  palace,  there  to  deliver  in  a  schedule  of 
their  estates ;  "  that  quiet  possession,"  the  governor  said, 
"  might  be  granted  to  them  under  the  geat  seal  of  Lord  Aymer 
de  Valence,  the  deputy-warden  of  Scotland." 

The  gray-headed  knight,  not  being  so  active  as  his  compeers  of 
more  juvenile  years,  happened  to  be  the  last  who  went  to  this 
tiger's  den.  Wrapped  in  his  plaid,1  his  silver  hair  covered 
with  a  blue  bonnet,  and  leaning  on  his  staff,  he  was  walking 
along,  attended  by  two  domestics,  when  Sir  John  Graham  met 
him  at  the  gate  of  the  palace.  He  smiled  on  him  as  he  passed, 
and  whispered,  "  It  will  not  be  long  before  my  Wallace 
makes  even  the  forms  of  vassalage  unnecessary  ;  and  then  these 
failing  limbs  may  sit  undisturbed  at  home  under  the  fig-tree 
and  vine  of  his  planting." 

"  God  grant  it !  "  returned  Graham  ;  and  he  saw  Sir  Ronald 
admitted  within  the  interior  gate.  The  servants  were  ordered 
to  remain  without.  Sir  John  walked  there  some  time,  expect- 
ing the  reappearance  of  the  knight  whom  he  intended  to  assist 
in  leading  home ;  but  after  an  hour,  finding  no  signs  of  regress 
from  the  palace,  and  thinking  his  father  might  be  wondering 
at  his  delay,  he  turned  his  steps  towards  his  own  lodgings. 
While  passing  along,  he  met  several  Southron  detachments 
hurrying  across  the  streets.  In  the  midst  of  some  of  these 
companies  he  saw  one  or  two  Scottish  men  of  rank,  strangers 
to  him,  but  who,  by  certain  indications,  seemed  to  be  prisoners. 
He  did  not  go  far  before  he  met  a  chieftain  in  these  painful 
circumstances  whom  he  knew  ;  but  as  he  was  hastening  towards 
him,  the  noble  Scot  raised  his  manacled  hand,  and  turned  away 

1  In  the  Appendix  there  will  be  a  note  descriptive  of  the  plaids,  or  tartans,  of  Scotland. 


208  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

his  head.  This  was  a  warning  to  the  young  knight,  who  darted 
into  an  obscure  alley  which  led  to  the  gardens  of  his  father's 
lodgings,  and  was  hurrying  forward  when  he  met  one  of  his 
own  servants  running  in  quest  of  him. 

Panting  with  haste,  he  informed  his  master  that  a  party 
of  armed  men  had  come,  under  De  Valence's  warrant,  to 
seize  Lord  Dundaff  and  bear  him  to  prison,  to  lie  there  with 
others  who  were  charged  with  having  taken  part  in  a  con- 
spiracy with  the  grandfather  of  the  insurgent  Wallace. 

The  officer  of  the  band  who  took  Lord  Dundaff  told 
hl.n  in  the  most  insulting  language  that  "  Sir  Ronald,  his 
ringleader,  with  eighteen  nobles,  his  accomplices,  had  already 
suffered  the  punishment  of  their  crime,  and  were  lying, 
headless  trunks,  in  the  judgment-hall." 

"Haste,  therefore,"  repeated  the  man;  "my  lord  bids 
you  haste  to  Sir  William  Wallace  and  require  his  hand  to 
avenge  his  kinsman's  blood  and  to  free  his  countrymen  from 
prison.  These  are  your  father's  commands ;  he  directed  me 
to  seek  you  and  give  them  to  you." 

Alarmed  for  the  life  of  his  father,  Graham  hesitated  how 
to  act  on  the  moment.  To  leave  him,  seemed  to  abandon  him 
to  the  death  the  others  had  received ;  and  yet,  only  by  obeying 
him  could  he  have  any  hopes  of  averting  his  threatened  fate. 
Once  seeing  the  path  he  ought  to  pursue,  he  struck  im- 
mediately into  it,  and  giving  his  signet  to  the  servant,  to  assure 
Lord  Dundaff  of  his  obedience,  he  mounted  a  horse  which 
had  been  brought  to  the  town  end  for  that  purpose,  and  set- 
ting off  full  speed,  allowed  nothing  to  stay  him  till  he  reached 
Dumbarton  castle.  There,  hearing  that  Wallace  was  gone  to 
Bute,  he  threw  himself  into  a  boat,  and  plying  every  oar, 
reached  that  island  in  a  shorter  space  of  time  than  the  voyage 
had  ever  before  been  completed. 

Being  now  conducted  into  the  presence  of  the  chief,  he 
narrated  his  dismal  tale  with  a  simplicity  and  pathos  which 
would  have  instantly  drawn  the  retributive  sword  of  Wallace 
had  he  had  no  kinsman  to  avenge,  no  friend  to  release 
from  the  Southron  dungeons.  But  as  the  case  stood,  his  bleed- 
ing grandfather  lay  before  his  eyes,  and  the  axe  hung  over 
the  heads  of  the  most  virtuous  nobles  of  his  country. 

He  heard  the  chieftain  to  an  end  without  speaking  or 
altering  the  stern  attention  of  his  countenance.  But  at 
the  close,  with  an  augmented  suffusion  of  blood  in  his  face, 
and  his  brows  denouncing  some  tremendous  fate,  he  rose. 
"  Sir  John  Graham,"  said  he,  "  I  attend  you." 


THE    BARNS    OF   AYR.  209 

"  Whither  ?  "  demanded  Murray. 

"  To  Ayr,"  answered  Wallace.  "  This  moment  I  will  set  out 
for  Dumbarton,  to  bring  away  the  sinews  of  my  strength. 
God  will  be  our  speed !  and  then  this  arm  shall  show  how  I 
loved  that  good  old  man." 

"  Your  men,"  interrupted  Graham,  "  are  already  awaiting 
you  on  the  opposite  shore.  I  presumed  to  command  for  you. 
For  on  entering  Dumbarton,  and  finding  you  were  absent, 
after  having  briefly  recounted  my  errand  to  Lord  Lennox, 
I  dared  to  interpret  your  mind,  and  to  order  Sir  Alexander 
Scrymgeour  and  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  with  all  your  OWE 
force,  to  follow  me  to  the  coast  of  Kenfrew." 

"  Thank  you,  my  friend, "  cried  Wallace,  grasping  his 
hand ;  "  may  I  ever  have  such  interpreters.  I  cannot  stay  to 
bid  your  uncle  farewell,"  said  he  to  Lord  Andrew.  "Remain 
to  tell  him  to  bless  me  with  his  prayers,  and  then,,  dear 
Murray,  follow  me  to  Ayr." 

Ignorant  of  what  the  stranger  had  imparted,  at  the  sight  of 
the  chiefs  approaching  from  the  castle  gate  Edwin  hastened 
with  the  news  that  all  was  ready  for  embarkation.  He  was 
hurrying  out  his  information  when  the  altered  countenance  of 
his  general  checked  him.  He  looked  at  the  stranger.  His  face 
was  agitated  and  severe.  He  turned  towards  his  cousin.  All 
there  was  grave  and  distressed.  Again  he  glanced  at  Wallace. 
No  word  was  spoken,  but  every  look  threatened ;  and  Edwin  saw 
him  leap  into  the  boat  followed  by  the  stranger.  The  aston- 
ished boy,  though  unnoticed,  would  not  be  left  behind,  and  step- 
ping in  also,  sat  down  beside  his  chief. 

"  I  shall  follow  you  in  an  hour,"  exclaimed  Murray.  The 
seamen  pushed  off ;  then  giving  loose  to  their  swelling  sail,  in 
less  than  ten  minutes  the  light  vessel  was  wafted  out  of  the 
little  harbor,  and  turning  a  point,  those  in  the  castle  saw  it  no 
more. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    BARNS    OF    AYR. 

WHILE  the  little  bark  bounded  over  the  waves  towards  the 
mainland,  the  poor  pilgrims  of  earth  who  were  its  freightage, 
with  heavy  hearts  bent  towards  each  other,  intent  on  the  fur- 
ther information  they  were  to  receive. 

"Here  is  the  list  of  the  murdered  chiefs,  and  of  those  who 

VOL.  I.  — 14 


210  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

are  in  the  dungeons  expecting  the  like  treatment,"  continued 
Graham,  holding  out  a  parchment ;  "  it  was  given  to  me  by  my 
faithful  servant."  Wallace  took  it,  but  seeing  his  grandfather's 
name  at  the  top  he  could  look  no  farther ;  closing  the  scroll, 
"  Gallant  Graham,"  said  he,  "  I  want  no  stimulus  to  urge  me 
to  the  extirpation  I  meditate.  If  the  sword  of  Heaven  be  with 
us,  not  one  perpetrator  of  this  horrid  massacre  shall  be  alive  to- 
morrow to  repeat  the  deed." 

"  What  massacre  ?  "  Edwin  ventured  to  inquire.  Wallace 
put  the  parchment  into  his  hand.  Edwin  opened  the  roll,  and 
on  seeing  the  words,  "  A  list  of  the  Scottish  chiefs  murdered 
on  the  18th  of  June,  1297,  in  the  judgment-hall  of  the  English 
barons  at  Ayr,"  his  cheek,  paled  by  the  suspense  of  his  mind, 
now  reddened  with  the  hue  of  indignation ;  but  when  the  ven- 
erated name  of  his  general's  grandfather  met  his  sight,  his 
horror-struck  eye  sought  the  face  of  Wallace ;  it  was  dark  as 
before,  and  he  was  now  in  earnest  discourse  with  Graham. 

Forbearing  to  interrupt  him,  Edwin  continued  to  read  over 
the  blood-registered  names.1  In  turning  the  page  his  eye 
glanced  to  the  opposite  side,  and  he  saw  at  the  head  of  "  A  list 
of  prisoners  in  the  dungeons  of  Ayr,"  the  name  of  Lord  Dun- 
dan0,  and  immediately  after  it  that  of  Lord  Ruthven.  He 
uttered  a  piercing  cry,  and  extending  his  arms  to  Wallace,  who 
turned  round  at  so  unusual  a  sound,  the  terror-struck  boy  ex- 
claimed, "  My  father  is  in  their  hands  !  Oh  !  if  you  are  indeed 
my  brother,  fly  to  Ayr  and  save  him  ! " 

Wallace  took  up  the  open  list  which  Edwin  had  dropped.  He 
saw  the  name  of  Lord  Ruthven  amongst  the  prisoners,  and 
folding  his  arms  round  this  affectionate  son,  "  Compose  your- 
self," said  he,  "  it  is  to  Ayr  I  am  going,  and  if  the  God  of  jus- 
tice be  our  speed,  your  father  and  Lord  Dundaff  shall  not  see 
another  day  in  prison." 

Edwin  threw  himself  on  the  neck  of  his  friend.  "  My  bene- 
factor !  "  was  all  he  could  utter.  Wallace  pressed  him  silently 
to  his  bosom. 

"  Who  is  this  youth  ?  "  inquired  Graham.  "  To  which  of  the 
noble  companions  of  my  captive  father  is  he  son  ?  " 

"  To  William  Ruthven,"  *  answered  Wallace,  "  the  valiant 

1  Many  of  the  first  names  in  Scotland  fill  the  list  which  the  poet  Harrie  gives  of  this 
horrid  massacre.  —  (1809.) 

*  This  William  Ruthven,  Baron  of  Ruthven  on  the  Spey,  and  Lord  of  the  castle  of 
Hunting-tower,  which  stands  on  the  Tay,  two  miles  from  Perth,  was  the  ancestor  of  the 
Earls  of  Gowrie,  and  of  the  renowned  Ruthven,  Earl  of  Forth  and  Brentford,  who  so 
greatly  signalized  himself  in  the  armies  of  Gustavus  Adolphus.  William  Lord  Ruthven, 
who  with  his  family  were  the  fast  friends  of  Wallace,  performed  services  to  Scotland 
more  numerous  than  the  disposition  of  this  volume  affords  room  to  recount.  And  to  pay 
this  tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  ancestors  of  two  brave  brothers,  right  worthy  of  their 


THE    BARNS    OF   AYR.  211 

Lord  of  the  Carse  of  Gowrie.  And  it  is  a  noble  scion  from  that 
glorious  root.  He  it  was  that  enabled  me  to  win  Dumbarton. 
Look  up,  my  brother !  "  cried  Wallace,  trying  to  regain  so  ten- 
der a  mind  from  the  paralyzing  terrors  which  had  seized  it,  — 
"  look  up,  and  hear  me  recount  the  first-fruits  of  your  maiden 
arms  to  our  gallant  friend." 

Covered  with  blushes  arising  from  anxious  emotion,  as  well 
as  from  a  happy  consciousness  of  having  won  the  praises  of  his 
general,  Edwin  rose  from  his  breast,  and  bowing  to  Sir  John, 
still  leaned  his  head  upon  the  shoulder  of  Wallace.  That  ami- 
able being,  who,  when  seeking  to  wipe  the  tear  of  affliction  from 
the  cheek  of  others,  minded  not  the  drops  of  blood  which  were 
distilling  in  secret  from  his  own  heart,  began  the  recital  of  his 
first  acquaintance  with  his  young  Sir  Edwin.  He  enumerated 
every  particular :  his  bringing  the  detachment  from  Bothwell 
through  the  enemy-encircled  mountains  to  Glenfinlass,  his  scal- 
ing the  walls  of  Dumbarton  to  make  the  way  smooth  to  the 
Scots  to  ascend,  and  his  after  prowess  in  that  well-defended 
fortress.  As  Wallace  proceeded,  the  wonder  of  Graham  was 
raised  to  a  pitch  only  to  be  equalled  by  his  admiration ;  and 
taking  the  hand  of  Edwin,  "  Receive  me,  brave  youth,"  said  he, 
"  as  your  second  brother ;  Sir  William  Wallace  is  your  first ; 
but  this  night  we  shall  fight  side  by  side  for  our  fathers,  and 
let  that  be  our  bond  of  kindred." 

Edwin  pressed  the  young  chief's  cheek  with  his  innocent  lips. 
"  Let  us  together  free  them/'  cried  he,  "  and  then  we  shall  be 
born  twins  in  happiness." 

"  So  be  it,"  cried  Graham,  "  and  Sir  William  Wallace  be  the 
sponsor  of  that  hour." 

Wallace  smiled  on  them,  and  turning  his  head  towards  the 
shore  when  the  vessel  doubled  a  certain  point,  he  saw  the 
beach  covered  with  armed  men.  To  be  sure  they  were  his  own, 
he  drew  his  sword  and  waved  it  in  the  air.  At  that  moment 
a  hundred  falchions  flashed  in  the  sunbeams,  and  the  shouts  of 
"  Wallace  ! "  came  loudly  on  the  breeze.  ' 

Graham  and  Edwin  started  on  their  feet ;  the  seamen  plied 
their  oars ;  the  boat  dashed  into  the  breakers,  and  Wallace, 
leaping  on  shore,  was  received  with  acclamations  by  his  eager 
soldiers. 

He  no  sooner  landed  than  he  commenced  his  march.  Murray 
joined  him  on  the  banks  of  the  Irwin,  and  as  Ayr  was  no  great 
distance  from  that  river,  at  two  hours  before  midnight  the 

origin,  —  once  the  dearest  friends  of  the  family  of  the  writer,  and  now  in  a  better  world, 
•—  embalms  the  tear  that  time  can  never  dry.  —  (1809.) 


212  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

little  army  entered  Laglane  wood,  where  they  halted,  while 
Wallace  with  his  chieftains  proceeded  to  reconnoitre  the  town. 
The  wind  swept  in  gusts  through  the  trees,  and  seemed  by  its 
dismal  yellings  to  utter  warnings  of  the  dreadful  retributions 
he  was  about  to  inflict.  He  had  already  declared  his  plan  of 
destruction,  and  Graham,  as  a  first  measure,  went  to  the  spot 
he  had  fixed  on  with  Macdougal,  his  servant,  as  a  place  of 
rendezvous.  He  returned  with  the  man,  who  informed  Wallace 
that  in  honor  of  the  sequestrated  lands  of  the  murdered  chiefs 
having  been  that  day  partitioned  by  De  Valence  amongst  certain 
Southron  lords,  a  grand  feast  was  going  on  in  the  governor's 
palace.  Under  the  very  roof  where  they  had  shed  the  blood  of 
the  trusting  Scots,  they  were  now  keeping  this  carousal. 

"  Now,  then,  is  our  time  to  strike ! "  cried  Wallace ;  and 
ordering  detachments  of  his  men  to  take  possession  of  the 
avenues  to  the  town,  he  set  forth  with  others  to  reach  the 
front  of  the  castle  gates  by  a  less  frequented  path  than 
the  main  street.  The  darkness  being  so  great  that  no  object 
could  be  distinctly  seen,  they  had  not  gone  far  before 
Macdougal,  who  had  undertaken  to  be  their  guide,  discovered 
by  the  projection  of  a  hill  on  the  right  that  he  had  lost 
the  road. 

"  Our  swords  will  find  one  ! "  exclaimed  Kirkpatrick. 

Unwilling  to  miss  any  advantage,  in  a  situation  where 
so  much  was  at  stake,  Wallace  gladly  hailed  a  twinkling 
light,  which  gleamed  from  what  he  supposed  the  window 
of  a  distant  cottage.  Kirpatrick,  with  Macdougal,  ottered 
to  go  forward  and  explore  what  it  might  be.  In  a  few 
minutes  they  arrived  at  a  thatched  building,  from  which, 
to  their  surprise,  issued  the  wailing  strains  of  the  coro- 
nach.1 Kirkpatrick  paused.  Its  melancholy  notes  were  sung 
by  female  voices.  Hence,  there  being  no  danger  in  apply- 
ing to  such  harmless  inhabitants  to  learn  the  way  to  the 
citadel,  he  proceeded  to  the  door,  when,  intending  to  knock, 
the  weight  of  his  mailed  arm  burst  open  its  slender  latch, 
and  discovered  two  poor  women,  in  an  inner  apartment, 
wringing  their  hands  over  a  shrouded  corse.  While  the 
chief  entered  his  friend  came  up.  Murray  and  Graham, 
struck  with  sounds  never  breathed  over  the  vulgar  dead, 
lingered  at  the  porch,  wondering  what  noble  Scot  could 
be  the  subject  of  lamentation  in  so  lowly  an  abode.  The 
stopping  of  these  two  chieftains  impeded  the  steps  of  Wallace, 
who  was  pressing  forward,  without  eye  or  ear  for  anything 

1  Coronach,  a  national  dirge  sung  over  the  body  of  a  dead  chief.  —  (T<JO&.) 


THE    BARNS    OF   AYR.  213 

but  the  object  of  his  march.  Kirkpatrick  at  that  moment 
appeared  on  the  threshold,  and  without  a  word,  putting 
forth  his  hand,  seized  the  arm  of  his  commander  and  pulled 
him  into  the  cottage.  Before  Wallace  could  ask  the  reason 
of  this,  he  saw  a  woman  run  forward  with  a  light  in  her  hand, 
the  beams  of  which  falling  on  the  face  of  the  knight  of 
Ellerslie,  with  a  shriek  of  joy  she  rushed  towards  him  and 
threw  herself  upon  his  neck. 

He  instantly  recognized  Elspa,  his  nurse,  the  faithful 
attendant  on  his  grandfather's  declining  years,  the  happy 
matron  who  had  decked  the  bridal  bed  of  his  Marion,  and 
'with  an  anguish  of  recollections  that  almost  unmanned  him, 
he  returned  her  affectionate  embrace. 

"  Here  he  lies  !  "  cried  the  old  woman,  drawing  him  towards 
the  rushy  bier ;  and  before  he  had  time  to  demand  "  Who  ?  " 
she  pulled  down  the  shroud  and  disclosed  the  body  of  Sir 
Konald  Crawford.  Wallace  gazed  on  it  with  a  look  of  such 
dreadful  import  that  Edwin,  whose  anxious  eyes  then  sought 
his  countenance,  trembled  with  a  nameless  horror.  "  Oh," 
thought  he,  "  to  what  is  this  noble  soul  reserved !  Is  he  alone 
doomed  to  extirpate  the  enemies  of  Scotland,  that  every  ill 
falls  direct  upon  his  head  ?  " 

"  Sorry,  sorry  bier  for  the  good  Lord  Ronald  ! "  cried  the  old 
woman ;  "  a  poor  wake  l  to  mourn  the  loss  of  him  who  was  the 
benefactor  of  all  the  country  round.  But  had  I  not  brought 
him  here  the  salt  sea  must  have  been  his  grave."  Here  sobs 
prevented  her  utterance,  but  after  a  short  pause,  with  many 
vehement  lamentations  over  the  virtues  of  the  dead  and  im- 
precations on  his  murderers,  she  related  that  as  soon  as  the 
wof  ul  tidings  were  brought  to  Monktown  kirk  (and  brought,  too, 
by  the  Southron  who  was  to  take  it  in  possession),  she  and  the 
clan's-folk  who  would  not  swear  fidelity  to  the  new  lord  were 
driven  from  the  house.  She  hastened  to  the  bloody  theatre  of 
massacre,  and  there  beheld  the  bodies  of  the  murdered  chiefs 
drawn  on  sledges  to  the  sea-shore.  Elspa  knew  that  of  her 
master  by  a  scar  on  his  breast  which  he  had  received  in  the 
battle  of  Largs.  When  she  saw  corpse  after  corpse  thrown  with 
a  careless  hand  into  the  waves,  and  the  man  approached  who 
was  to  cast  the  honored  chief  of  Monktown  to  the  same  unhal- 
lowed burial,  she  threw  herself  frantically  on  the  body,  and  so 
moved  the  man's  compassion,  that,  taking  advantage  of  the  time 

lWake  is  a  ceremony  still  used  by  the  friends  of  the  dead,  in  the  Highlands  of  Scot- 
land. They  sit  up  with  the  body  to  lament  over  it,  and  during  their  time  of  mourning 
regale  themselves  with  sumptuous  feasts. — (1809.) 


214  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

when  his  comrades  >vere  out  of  sight,  he  permitted  her  to  wrap 
the  dead  Sir  Ronald  in  her  plaid  and  so  carry  him  away  be- 
tween her  sister  and  herself.  But  era  she  had  raised  her 
sacred  burden  the  man  directed  her  to  seek  the  venerable  head 
from  amongst  the  others  which  lay  mingled  in  a  sack.  Drawing 
it  forth  she  placed  it  beside  the  body,  and  then  hastily  retired 
with  both  to  the  hovel  where  Wallace  had  found  her.  It  was 
a  shepherd's  hut,  from  which  the  desolation  of  the  l;mes  hav- 
ing long  ago  driven  away  its  former  inhabitant,  she  had  hoped 
that  in  so  lonely  an  obscurity  she  might  have  performed  with- 
out notice  a  chieftain's  rites  to  the  remains  of  the  murdered 
lord  of  the  very  lands  on  which  she  wept  him.  These  over, 
she  meant  he  should  be  interred  in  secret  by  the  fathers  of  a 
neighboring  church  which  he  had  once  richly  endowed.  With 
these  intentions  she  and  her  sister  were  chanting  over  him  the 
sad  dirge  of  their  country  when  Sir  Eoger  Kirkpatrick  burst 
open  the  door.  "Ah ! "  cried  she,  as  she  closed  the  dismal  nar- 
rative, "  though  two  lonely  women  were  all  they  had  left  of 
the  lately  thronged  household  of  Sir  Ronald  Crawford  to  raise 
the  last  lament  over  his  revered  body,  yet  in  that  sad  midnight 
hour  our  earthly  voices  were  not  alone  —  the  wakeful  spirits  of 
his  daughters  hovered  in  the  air  and  joined  the  deep  coronach." 

Wallace  sighed  heavily  as  he  looked  on  the  animated  face  of 
the  aged  mourner.  Attachment  to  the  venerable  dead  seemed 
to  have  inspired  her  with  thoughts  beyond  her  station  ;  but  the 
heart  is  an  able  teacher,  and  he  saw  that  true  affection  speaks 
but  one  language. 

As  her  ardent  eyes  withdrew  from  their  heavenward  gaze 
they  fell  upon  the  shrouded  face  of  her  master.  A  napkin  con- 
cealed the  wound  of  decapitation.  "Chiefs,"  cried  she,  in  a 
burst  of  recollection,  "  ye  have  not  seen  all  the  cruelty  of  these 
murderers."  At  these  words  she  suddenly  withdrew  the  linen, 
and  lifting  up  the  pale  head  held  it  wofully  towards  Wallace. 
"Here,"  cried  she,  "once  more  kiss  these  lips!  They  have 
often  kissed  yours  when  you  were  a  babe,  and  as  insensible  to 
his  love  as  he  is  now  to  your  sorrow." 

Wallace  received  the  head  in  his  arms ;  the  long  silver  beard 
thick  with  gouts  of  blood  hung  over  his  hands.  He  gazed  on 
it  intently  for  some  minutes.  An  awful  silence  per.vaded  the 
room  ;  every  eye  was  riveted  upon  him. 

Looking  round  on  his  friends  with  a  countenance  whose 
deadly  hue  gave  a  sepulchral  fire  to  the  gloomy  denunciation 
of  his  eyes,  "Was  it  necessary,"  said  he,  "to  turn  my  heart 
to  iron,  that  I  was  brought  to  see  this  sight  ?  "  All  the  tre- 


THE    BARNS    OF   AYR.  215 

mendous  purpose  of  his  soul  was  read  in  his  face  while  he  laid 
the  head  back  upon  the  bier.  His  lips  again  moved,  but  none 
heard  what  he  said.  He  rushed  from  the  hut,  and  with  rapid 
strides  proceeded  in  profound  silence  towards  the  palace.1 

He  well  knew  that  no  honest  Scot  could  be  under  that  roof. 
The  building,  though  magnificent,  was  altogether  a  structure  of 
wood ;  to  fire  it,  then,  was  his  determination.  To  destroy  all  at 
once  in  the  theatre  of  their  cruelty,  to  make  an  execution,  not 
engage  in  a  warfare  of  man  to  man,  was  his  resolution  ;  for  they 
were  not  soldiers  he  was  seeking,  but  assassins,  and  to  pitch 
his  brave  Scots  in  the  open  field  against  such  unmanly  wretches 
would  be  to  dishonor  his  men,  to  give  criminals  a  chance  for 
the  lives  they  had  forfeited. 

All  being  quiet  in  the  few  streets  through  which  he  passed, 
and  having  set  strong  bodies  of  men  at  the  mouth  of  every 
sally-port  of  the  citadel,  he  made  a  bold  attack  upon  the  guard 
at  the  barbican-gate,  and  ere  they  could  give  the  alarm,  all 
being  slain,  he  and  his  chosen  troop  entered  the  portal  and 
made  direct  to  the  palace.  The  lights  which  blazed  through 
the  windows  of  the  banqueting-hall  showed  him  the  spot ;  and 
having  detached  Graham  and  Edwin  to  storm  the  keep  where 
their  fathers  were  confined,  he  took  the  half-intoxicated  senti- 
nels at  the  palace-gates  by  surprise,  and  striking  them  into  a 
sleep  from  wljich  they  would  wake  no  more,  he  fastened  the 
doors  upon  the  assassins.  His  men  surrounded  the  building 
with  hurdles  filled  with  combustibles  which  they  had  prepared 
according  to  his  directions ;  and,  when  all  was  ready,  Wallace, 
with  a  mighty  spirit  of  retribution  nerving  every  limb,  mounted 
to  the  roof,  and  tearing  off  the  shingles,  with  a  flaming  brand 
in  his  hand,  showed  himself  to  the  affrighted  revellers  beneath, 
and  as  he  threw  it  blazing  amongst  them  he  cried  aloud,  "  The 
blood  of  the  murdered  calls  for  vengeance,  and  it  comes  ! " 

At  that  instant  the  matches  were  put  to  the  fagots  which 
surrounded  the  building,  and  the  party  within  springing  from 
their  seats  hastened  towards  the  doors.  All  were  fastened  on 
them,  and  retreating  into  the  midst  of  the  room  they  fearfully 
looked  towards  the  tremendous  figure  above,  which,  like  a  su- 
pernatural being,  seemed  indeed  come  to  rain  fire  upon  their 
guilty  heads.  Some  shook  with  superstitious  dread ;  others, 
driven  to  atheistical  despair,  with  horrible  execrations  again 
strove  to  force  a  passage  through  the  doors.  A  second  glance 

1  The  parallel  scene  to  this  in  Blind  Harrie's  poem  is  yet  more  horribly  described  ;  its 
painting  might  have  been  too  strong  for  a  work  of  this  kind,  but  the  simple  and  pathetic 
la1  ^ntations  of  the  nurs  in  the  old  poem  are  not  to  be  equalled  by  any  copy  iu  modern 
m  -..—  (1809.) 


216  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

told  De  Valence  whose  was  the  hand  which  had  launched  the 
thunderbolt  at  his  feet,  and,  turning  to  Sir  Richard  Arnulf. 
he  cried  in  a  voice  of  horror,  "  My  arch-enemy  is  there  !  " 

Thick  smoke  rising  from  within  and  without  the  building 
now  obscured  his  terrific  form.  The  shouts  of  the  Scots,  as  the 
fire  covered  its  walls,  and  the  streaming  flames  licking  the  win- 
dows and  pouring  into  every  opening  of  the  building,  raised 
suoh  a  terror  in  the  breasts  of  the  wretches  within,  that, 
with  the  most  horrible  cries,  they  again  and  again  flew  to  the 
doors  to  escape.  Not  an  avenue  appeared ;  almost  suffocated 
with  smoke  and  scorched  by  the  blazing  rafters  which  fell  from 
the  burning  roof,  they  at  last  made  a  desperate  attempt  to 
break  a  passage  through  the  great  portal.  Arnulf  was  at  their 
head,  and,  sunk  to  abjectness  by  his  despair,  in  a  voice  which 
terror  rendered  piercing  he  called  for  mercy.  The  words 
reached  the  ear  of  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  who  stood  nearest 
to  the  door.  In  a  voice  of  thunder  he  replied,  "  That  ye  gave, 
ye  shall  receive.  Where  was  mercy  when  our  fathers  and  our 
brothers  fell  beneath  your  murderous  axes  ?  " 

Aymer  de  Valence  came  up  at  this  moment  with  a  wooden 
pillar  which  he  and  the  strongest  men  in  the  company  had 
torn  from  under  the  gallery  that  surrounded  the  room,  and, 
with  all  their  strength  dashing  it  against  the  great  door,  they 
at  last  drove  it  from  its  bolts.  But  now  a  wall  of  men  opposed 
them.  Desperate  at  the  sight,  and  with  a  burning  furnace  in 
their  rear,  it  was  not  the  might  of  man  that  could  prevent  their 
escape  ;  and  with  the  determination  of  despair,  rushing  forward 
the  foremost  rank  of  the  Scots  fell.  But  ere  the  exulting 
Southrons  could  press  out  into  the  open  space,  Wallace  himself 
had  closed  upon  them,  and  Arnulf,  the  merciless  Arnulf,  whose 
voice  had  pronounced  the  sentence  of  death  upon  Sir  Ronald 
Crawford,  died  beneath  his  hand. 

Wallace  was  not  aware  that  he  had  killed  the  Governor  of 
Ayr  till  the  terror-striken  exclamations  of  his  enemies  informed 
him  that  the  ruthless  instigator  of  the  massacre  was  slain. 
This  event  was  welcome  news  to  the  Scots,  and  hoping  that  the 
next  death  would  be  that  of  De  Valence,  they  pressed  on  with 
redoubled  energy. 

Aroused  by  so  extraordinary  a  noise,  and  alarmed  by  the 
flames  of  the  palace,  the  soldiers  quartered  near  hastened  half- 
armed  to  the  spot.  But  their  presence  rather  added  to  the 
confusion  than  gave  assistance  to  the  besieged.  They  were 
without  leaders;  and  not  daring  to  put  themselves  to  action, 
for  fear  of  being  afterwards  punished,  in  the  case  of  a  mis- 


THE    BARNS    OF   AYR.  217 

chance,  for  having  presumed  to  move  without  their  officers, 
they  stood  dismayed  and  irresolute,  while  those  very  officers 
who  had  been  all  at  the  banquet  were  falling  in  heaps  under 
the  swords  of  the  exterminating  Scots. 

Meanwhile  the  men  who  guarded  the  prisoners  in  the  keep, 
having  their  commanders  with  them,  made  a  stout  resistance 
there.  And  one  of  the  officers,  seeing  a  possible  advantage, 
stole  out,  and  gathering  a  company  of  the  scattered  garrison, 
suddenly  taking  Graham  in  flank,  made  no  inconsiderable  havoc 
amongst  that  part  of  his  division.  Edwin  blew  the  signal  for 
assistance.  Wallace  heard  the  blast,  and  seeing  the  day  was 
won  at  the  palace,  he  left  the  finishing  of  the  affair  to  Kirk- 
patrick  and  Murray,  and,  drawing  off  a  small  party  to  reenforce 
Graham,  he  took  the  Southron  officer  by  surprise.  The  enemy's 
ranks  fell  around  him  like  corn  beneath  the  sickle  ;  and  grasp- 
ing a  huge  battering-ram,  which  his  men  had  found,  he  burst 
open  the  door  of  the  keep.  Graham  and  Edwin  rushed  in ;  and 
Wallace,  sounding  his  own  bugle  with  the  notes  of  victory,  his 
reserves,  whom  he  had  placed  at  the  ends  of  the  streets,  entered 
in  every  direction  and  received  the  flying  soldiers  of  De  Valence 
upon  their  pikes. 

Dreadful  was  now  the  carnage  ;  for  the  Southrons,  forgetting 
all  discipline,  fought  every  man  for  his  life ;  while  the  furious 
Scots,  driving  them  into  the  far-spreading  flames,  what  escaped 
the  sword  would  have  perished  in  the  fire  had  not  the  relenting 
heart  of  Wallace  pleaded  for  bleeding  humanity,  and  he  ordered 
the  trumpet  to  sound  a  parley.  He  was  obeyed ;  and,  standing 
on  an  adjacent  mound,  in  an  awful  voice  he  proclaimed  that 
"  whoever  had  not  been  accomplices  in  the  horrible  massacre 
of  the  Scottish  chiefs,  if  they  would  ground  their  arms,  and  take 
an  oath  never  to  serve  again  against  Scotland,  their  lives  should 
be  spared." 

Hundreds  of  swords  fell  to  the  ground,  and  their  late 
holders,  kneeling  at  his  feet,  took  the  oath  prescribed.  At  the 
head  of  those  who  surrendered  appeared  the  captain  who  had 
commanded  at  the  prison.  He  was  the  only  officer  of  all  the 
late  garrison  v^o  survived ;  all  else  had  fallen  in  the  conflict  or 
perished  in  tht  James  ;  and  when  he  saw  that  not  one  of  his  late 
numerous  companions  existed  to  go  through  the  same  humiliat- 
ing ceremony,  with  an  aghast  countenance  he  said  to  Wallace, 
as  he  presented  his  sword,  "  Then  I  must  believe  that,  with  this 
weapon,  I  am  surrendering  to  Sir  William  Wallace  the  pos« 
session  of  this  castle  and  the  government  of  Ayr.  I  see  not  one 
of  my  late  commanders  —  all  must  be  slain ;  and  for  me  to  hold 


218        ,  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

out  longer  would  be  to  sacrifice  my  men,  not  to  redeem  that 
which  has  been  so  completely  wrested  from  us.  But  I  serve 
severe  exactors  ;  and  I  hope  that  your  testimony,  my  conqueror, 
will  assure  my  king  I  fought  as  became  his  standard."  * 

Wallace  gave  him  a  gracious  answer,  and  committing  him 
to  the  generous  caro  of  Murray,  he  turned  to  give  orders  to 
Ker  respecting  the  surrendered  and  the  slain.  During  these 
momentous  events  Graham  had  deemed  it  prudent  that,  ex- 
hausted by  anxiety  and  privations,  the  noble  captives  should 
not  come  forth  to  join  in  the  battle,  and  not  until  the  sound  of 
victory  echoed  through  the  arches  of  their  dungeons  would  he 
suffer  the  eager  Dundaff  to  see  and  thank  his  deliverer.  Mean- 
while  the  young  Edwin  appeared  before  the  eyes  of  his  father 
like  the  angel  who  opened  the  prison  gates  to  Peter ;  after 
embracing  him  with  all  a  son's  fondness,  in  which,  for  the 
moment,  he  lost  the  repressing  idea  that  he  might  have  offended 
by  his  truancy  ;  after  recounting  in  a  few  hasty  sentences  the 
events  which  had  brought  him  to  be  a  companion  of  Sir  Will- 
iam Wallace,  and  to  avenge  the  injuries  of  Scotland  in  Ayr, 
he  knocked  off  the  chains  of  -his  amazed  father.  Eager  to 
perform  the  like  service  to  all  who  had  suffered  in  the  like 
manner,  and  accompanied  by  the  happy  Lord  Ruthven,  who 
gazed  with  delight  on  his  son  treading  so  early  the  path  of 
glory,  he  hastened  around  to  the  other  dungeons  and  gladly 
proclaimed  to  the  astonished  inmates  freedom  and  safety. 
Having  rid  them  of  their  shackles,  he  had  just  entered  with 
his  noble  company  into  the  vaulted  chamber  which  contained 
the  released  Lord  Dundaff  when  the  peaceful  clarion  sounded. 
At  the  joyful  tidings  Graham  started  on  his  feet.  "  Now,  my 
father,  you  shall  see  the  bravest  of  men !  " 

1  The  narrator  of  this  terrible  event  would  be  stripping  herself  of  one  of  the  brightest 
leaves  in  the  evergreen  wreath  which  the  beloved  "  laud  of  the  holly"  has  given  to  her 
did  she  deuy  herself  the  pleasure  of  expressing  here  to  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie  her  just 
appreciation  of  that  lady's  honoring  opinion  on  the  above-described  scene.  She  whom 
so  many  countries  have  united  in  recognizing  as  the  true  dramatic  "  sister  of  Shak- 
speare  "  has  said  that  Miss  Porter's  account,  in  her  "  Scottish  Chiefs,"  of  the  burning 
of  the  Barns  of  Ayr,  and  of  Wallace's  appearance  in  the  conflagration,  was  one  of  the 
sublimest  descriptions  she  had  ever  read.  The  reader  may  find  her  eloquent  words  on 
the  subject  in  a  note  annexed  to  a  poem  which  forms  part  of  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie's  his- 
torical volume  of  "  Metrical  Legends." 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  too,  has  not  been  backward  in  awarding  his  invaluable  testimony  on 
the  merit  of  this  scene  by  making  it  appear  as  reflected  again  in  one  of  his  works,  the 
beautiful  poem  of  "Rokeby,"  where  the  adoption  of  her  description  of  the  burning 
palace  of  Ayr,  and  of  Sir  William  Wallace  in  the  flaming  rafters,  has  been  often  pointed 
out  to  the  authoress  of  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs."  A  spirit  for  literary  forray  has  so  re- 
peatedly been  playfully  and  frankly  avowed  by  him  in  different  pages  of  his  magic  books, 
that  no  one  need  be  surprised  at  such  transfers;  and  surely  no  wandering  shepherdess 
could  see  a  sheep  of  hers  gathered  into  that  mighty  wizard's  fold  without  feeliug  pride 
rather  than  loss  in  the  selection.—  (Note  appended  to  an  edition  iu  1828.) 


THE    BARNS    OF   AYR.  219 

CHAPTER   XXX. 
THE  BARNS  OF  AYR.  —  (Continued.) 

MORNING  was  spreading  in  pale  light  over  the  heavens  and 
condensing  with  its  cold  breath  the  lurid  smoke  which  still 
ascended  in  volumes  from  the  burning  ruins,  when  Wallace, 
turning  round  at  the  glad  voice  of  Edwin,  beheld  the  released 
nobles.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  seen  the  Lords 
Dundaff  and  Ruthven,  but  several  of  the  others  he  remem- 
bered having  met  at  the  fatal  decision  of  the  crown,  and, 
while  welcoming  to  kis  friendship  those  to  whom  his  valor 
had  given  freedom,  how  great  was  his  surprise  to  see  in  the 
person  of  a  prisoner  suddenly  brought  before  him  Sir  John 
Monteith,  the  young  chieftain  whom  he  had  parted  with  a  few 
months  ago  at  Douglas,  and  from  whose  fatal  invitation  to 
that  castle  he  might  date  the  ruin  of  his  dearest  happiness 
and  all  the  succeeding  catastrophe. 

"  We  found  Sir  John  Monteith  amongst  the  slain  before  the 
palace,"  said  Ker ;  "  he,  of  the  Avhole  party,  alone  breathed  ;  I 
knew  him  instantly.  How  he  came  there  I  know  not ;  but  I 
have  brought  him  hither  to  explain  it  himself."  Ker  withdrew 
to  finish  the  interment  of  the  dead.  Monteith,  still  leaning  on 
the  arm  of  a  soldier,  grasped  Wallace's  hand :  "  My  brave 
friend,"  cried  he,  « to  owe  my  liberty  to  you  is  a  twofold 
pleasure ;  for,"  added  he,  in  a  lowered  voice,  "  I  see  before  me 
the  man  who  is  to  verify  the  words  of  Baliol,  and  be  not  only 
the  guardian,  but  the  possessor  of  the  treasure  he  committed 
to  our  care." 

Wallace,  who  had  never  thought  on  the  coffer  since  he  knew 
it  was  under  the  protection  of  St:  Fillan,  shook  his  head. 
"  A  far  different  meed  do  I  seek,  my  friend,"  said  he ;  ll  to  be- 
hold these  happy  countenances  of  my  liberated  countrymen  is 
greater  reward  to  me  than  would  be  the  development  of  all 
the  splendid  mysteries  which  the  head  of  Baliol  could  devise." 

"  Ay  !  "  cried  Dundaff,  who  overheard  this  part  of  the  con- 
versation, "  we  invited  the  usurpation  of  a  tyrant  by  the  docility 
with  which  we  submitted  to  his  minion.  Had  we  rejected 
Baliol,  we  had  never  been  ridden  by  Edward.  But  the  rowel 
has  gored  the  flanks  of  us  all,  and  who  amongst  us  will  not 
lay  himself  and  fortune  at  the  foot  of  him  who  plucks  away 
the  tyrant's  heel  ?  " 


220  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  If  all  held  our  cause  in  the  light  that  you  do,"  returned 
Wallace,  "  the  blood  which  these  Southrons  have  sown  would 
rise  up  in  ten  thousand  legions  to  overwhelm  the  murderers. 
"  But  how,"  inquired  he,  turning  to  Monteith,  "  did  you  hap- 
pen to  be  in  Ayr  at  this  period  ?  and  how,  above  all,  amongst 
the  slaughtered  Southrons  at  the  palace  ?  " 

Sir  John  Monteith  readily  replied:  "My  adverse  fate  ac- 
counts for  all."  He  then  proceeded  to  inform  Wallace  that  on 
the  very  night  in  which  they  parted  at  Douglas,  Sir  Arthur 
Hesselrigge  was  told  the  story  of  the  box,  and  accordingly  sent 
to  have  Monteith  brought  prisoner  to  Lanark.  He  lay  in  the 
dungeons  of  its  citadel  at  the  very  time  Wallace  entered  that 
town  and  destroyed  the  governor.  Though  the  Scots  did  not 
pursue  the  advantage  offered  by  the  transient  panic  into  which 
this  retribution  threw  their  enemies,  care  was  immediately 
taken  by  the  English  lieutenant  to  prevent  a  repetition  of  the 
same  disaster  ;  and,  in  consequence,  every  suspected  person  was 
seized,  and  those  already  in  confinement  loaded  with  chains. 
Monteith  being  known  as  a  friend  of  Wallace,  was  sent  under 
a  strong  guard  towards  Stirling,  there  to  stand  his  trial  before 
Cressingham  and  the  English  Justiciary  Ormsby.  "  By  a  lucky 
chance,"  said  he,  "  I  made  my  escape ;  but  I  was  soon  retaken  by 
another  party  and  conveyed  to  Ayr,  where  the  Lieutenant- 
Governor  Arnulf,  discovering  my  talents  for  music,  compelled 
me  to  sing  at  his  entertainments.  For  this  purpose  he  last 
night  confined  me  in  the  banqueting-room  at  the  palace,  and 
thus,  when  the  fiames  surrounded  that  building,  I  found  myself 
exposed  to  die  the  death  of  a  traitor,  though  then  as  much  op- 
pressed as  any  other  Scot.  Snatching  up  a  sword,  and  striving 
to  join  my  brave  countrymen,  the  Southrons  impeded  my  pas- 
sage, and  I  fell  under  their  arms." 

Happy  to  have  rescued  his  old  acquaintance  from  further  in- 
dignities, Wallace  committed  him  to  Edwin  to  lead  into  the 
citadel.  Then  taking  the  colors  of  Edward  from  the  ground, 
where  the  Southron  officer  had  laid  them,  he  gave  them  to  Sir 
Alexander  Scryingeour,  with  orders  to  fill  their  former  station 
on  the  citadel  with  the  standard  of  Scotland.  This  action  he 
considered  as  the  seal  of  each  victory,  as  the  beacon  which, 
seen  from  afar,  would  show  the  desolate  Scots  where  to  find  a 
protector,  and  from  what  ground  to  start,  when  courage  should 
prompt  them  to  assert  their  rights. 

The  standard  was  no  sooner  raised  than  the  proud  clarion 
of  triumph  was  blown  from  every  warlike  instrument  in  the 
garrison  j  and  the  Southron  captain,  placing  himself  at  the 


BERWICK   AND    THE    TWEED.  221 

head  of  his  disarmed  troops,  under  the  escort  of  Murray, 
marched  out  of  the  castle.  He  announced  his  design  to  pro- 
ceed immediately  to  Newcastle,  and  thence  embark  with  his 
men  to  join  their  king  in  Flanders.  Not  more  than  two  hun- 
dred followed  their  officer  in  this  expedition,  for  not  more  were 
English ;  the  Test,  to  nearly  double  that  number,  being,  like  the 
garrison  of  Dumbarton,  Irish  and  Welsh,  were  glad  to  escape 
enforced  servitude.  Some  parted  off  in  divisions  to  return  to 
their  respective  countries,  while  a  few,  whose  energetic  spirits 
preferred  a  life  of  warfare  in  the  cause  of  a  country  struggling 
for  freedom,  before  returning  to  submit  to  the  oppressors  of 
their  own,  enlisted  under  the  banners  of  Wallace. 

Some  other  necessary  regulations  being  then  made,  he  dis- 
missed his  gallant  Scots  to  find  refreshment  in  the  well-stored 
barracks  of  the  dispersed  Southrons,  and  retired  himself  to 
join  his  friends  in  the  citadel. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

BERWICK    AND    THE    TWEED. 

IN  the  course  of  an  hour  Murray  returned  from  having  seen 
the  departing  Southrons  beyond  the  barriers  of  the  township. 
But  he  did  not  come  alone :  he  was  accompanied  by  Lord 
Auchinleck,  the  son  of  one  of  the  betrayed  barons  who  had 
fallen  in  the  palace  of  Ayr.  This  young  chieftain,  at  the  head 
of  his  vassals,  hastened  to  support  the  man  whose  dauntless 
hand  had  thus  satisfied  his  revenge ;  and  when  he  met  Murray 
at  the  north  gate  of  the  town,  and  recognized  in  his  flying 
banners  a  friend  of  Scotland,  he  was  happy  to  make  himself 
known  to  an  officer  of  Wallace,  and  to  be  conducted  to  that 
chief. 

While  Lord  Andrew  and  his  new  colleague  were  making 
the  range  of  the  suburbs,  the  glad  progress  of  the  victor  Scots 
had  turned  the  whole  aspect  of  that  lately  gloomy  city.  Doors 
and  windows,  so  recently  closed  in  deep  mourning  for  the  san- 
guinary deeds  done  in  the  palace,  now  opened  teeming  with 
smiling  inhabitants.  The  general  joy  penetrated  to  the  most 
remote  recesses.  Mothers  now  threw  their  fond  arms  around 
the  necks  of  the  children  whom  just  before  they  had  regarded 
with  the  averted  eyes  of  despair ;  in  the  one  sex,  they  then 
beheld  the  devoted  victims  of,  perhaps,  the  next  requisition 


222  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

for  blood ;  and  in  the  other,  the  hapless  prey  of  passions  more 
fell  than  the  horrid  rage  of  the  beast  of  the  field.  But  now 
all  was  secure  again.  These  terrific  tyrants  were  driven 
hence;  and  the  happy  parent,  embracing  her  offspring  as  if 
restored  from  the  grave,  implored  a  thousand  blessings  on  the 
head  of  Wallace,  the  gifted  agent  of  all  this  good. 

Sons  who  in  secret  had  lamented  the  treacherous  death  of 
their  fathers,  and  brothers  of  their  brothers,  now  opened  their 
gates  and  joined  the  valiant  troops  in  the  streets.  Widowed 
wives  and  fatherless  daughters  almost  forgot  they  had  been 
bereaved  of  their  natural  protectors  when  they  saw  Scotland 
rescued  from  their  enemies,  and  her  armed  sons  once  more 
walking  in  the  broad  day,  masters  of  themselves  and  of  their 
country's  liberties. 

Thus,  then,  with  every  heart  rejoicing,  every  house  teeming 
with  numbers  to  swell  the  ranks  of  Wallace,  did  he,  the  day 
after  he  had  entered  Ayr,  see  all  arranged  for  its  peaceful 
establishment.  But  ere  he  bade  that  town  adieu  in  which  he 
had  been  educated,  and  where  almost  every  man,  remembering 
its  preserver's  boyish  years,  thronged  round  him  with  recol- 
lections of  former  days,  one  duty  yet  demanded  his  stay,  — to 
pay  funeral  honors  to  the  remains  of  his  beloved  grandfather. 

Accordingly  the  time  was  fixed,  and  with  every  solemnity 
due  to  his  virtues  and  his  rank  Sir  Ronald  Crawford  was 
buried  in  the  chapel  of  the  citadel.  It  was  not  a  scene  of 
mere  ceremonious  mourning.  As  he  had  been  the  father  of 
the  fatherless,  he  was  followed  to  the  grave  by  many  an  or- 
phan's tears ;  and  as  he  had  been  the  protector  of  the  distressed 
of  every  degree,  a  procession  long,  and  full  of  lamentation, 
conducted  his  shrouded  corse  to  its  earthly  rest.1  The  mourn- 
ing families  of  the  chiefs  who  had  fallen  in  the  same  bloody 
theatre  with  himself  closed  the  sad-  retinue,  and  while  the 
holy  rites  committed  his  body  to  the  ground,  the  sacred  mass 
was  extended  to  those  who  had  been  plunged  into  the  welter- 
ing element. 

1  This  scene  of  a  true  British  landholder  carried  to  his  last  earthly  bed  was  realized 
a  few  weeks  ago  to  the  writer's  eyes,  while  these  pages  were  passing  through  the  press, 
in  the  funeral  obsequies  of  the  venerable  Sir  Charles  Throckmorton,  whom  she  mentions 
in  the  41st  page  of  her  Recollective  Preface  to  this  work,  as  her  then  oldest  existing 
friend.  She  was  his  guest  at  Coughton  Court  when  he  died,  December  3,  in  the  just 
expired  year.  And  she  beheld  the  mourning  array,  not  of  escutcheoned  hearse  and  dark- 
plumed  equipages,  for  it  needed  none,  the  distance  from  his  ancient  homestead  portal  tc 
that  of  the  house  of  God,  where  he  was  to  be  gathered  to  his  people,  being  (as  of  olden 
time  was  the  use)  in  the  park,  and  their  gray  towers  were  within  shadow  of  each  other. 
But  she  saw  from  the  window  of  her  room  the  avenues  which  led  to  the  mansion  and 
to  the  sacred  building  blackened  with  long  trains  of  heart-mourners,  a  vast  population 
of  tenantry,  and  of  laborers  of  every  degree,  lamenting  their  "  benefactor,  their  father, 
gone."  These  are  scenes  which  preach  to  them  who  look  on,  and  have  ever  been  repeated 
when  any  one  of  the  true-patriot  baroneU  or  Throckmorton  have  been  borne  to  'Leil 
graves.  —  (Jan.,  1841.) 


BERWICK   AND    THE    TWEED.  223 

While  Wallace  confided  the  aged  Elspa  and  her  sister  to  the 
care  of  Sir  Reginald  Crawford,  to  whom  he  also  resigned  the 
lands  of  his  grandfather,  "Cousin,"  said  he,  "you  are  a  valiant 
and  a  humane  man.  I  leave  you*  to  be  the  representative  of 
your  venerable  uncle,  to  cherish  these  poor  women  whom  he 
loved,  to  be  the  protector  of  his  people  and  the  defender  of 
the  town.  The  citadel  is  under  the  command  of  the  Baron  of 
Auchinleck,  he,  with  his  brave  followers,  being  the  first  to  hail 
the  burning  of  the  accursed  Barns  of  Ayr. 
•  After  this  solemnity  and  these  dispositions  Wallace  called 
a  review  of  his  troops,  and  found  that  he  could  leave  five  hun- 
dred men  at  Ayr  and  march  an  army  of  at  least  two  thousand 
out  of  it. 

His  present  design  was  to  take  his  course  to  Berwick,  and,  by 
seizing  every  castle  of  strength  in  his  way,  form  a  chain  of 
works  across  the  country  which  would  not  only  bulwark  Scot- 
land against  any  further  inroads  from  its  enemies,  but  render 
the  subjugation  of  the  interior  Southron  garrisons  more  certain 
and  easy. 

On  the  third  morning  after  the  conflagration  of  the  palace, 
Wallace  quitted  Ayr,  and  marching  over  its  far-stretching  hills, 
manned  every  watch-tower  on  their  summits.  For  now,  whith- 
ersoever he  moved,  he  found  his  victories  had  preceded  him, 
and  all,  from  hall  to  hovel,  turned  out  to  greet  and  offer  him 
their  services.  Thus,  heralded  by  fame,  the  panic-struck  South- 
ron governors  fled  at  the  distant  view  of  his  standards  ;  the 
flames  of  Ayr  seemed  to  menace  them  all,  and  castle  and  for- 
talice,  from  Muirkirk  to  the  walls  of  Berwick,  opened  their 
gates  before  him. 

Arrived  under  those  blood-stained  towers,  which  had  so 
often  been  the  objects  of  dispute  between  the  powers  of  Eng- 
land and  of  Scotland,  he  prepared  for  their  immediate  attack. 
Berwick  being  a  valuable  fortress  to  the  enemy,  not  only  as  a 
key  to  the  invaded  kingdom,  but  a  point  whence,  by  their  ships, 
they  commanded  the  whole  of  the  eastern  coast  of  Scotland, 
Wallace  expected  that  a  desperate  stand  would  be  made  here 
to  stop  the  progress  of  his  arms;  but  being  aware  that  the 
most  expeditious  mode  of  warfare  was  the  best  adapted  to 
promote  his  cause,  he  first  took  the  town  by  assault,  and  then, 
having  driven  the  garrison  into  the  citadel,  assailed  it  by  a 
vigorous  siege. 

After  ten  days'  hard  duty  before  the  walls,  Wallace  devised 
a  plan  to  obtain  possession  of  the  English  ships  which  com- 
manded the  harbor.  He  found  among  his  own  troops  many 


224  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

men  who  had  been  used  to  a  seafaring  life ;  these  he  disguised 
as  fugitive  Southrons  from  the  late  defeats,  and  sent  in  boats 
to  the  enemy's  vessels  which  lay  in  the  roads.  The  feint  took ; 
and  by  these  means  getting  possession  of  those  nearest  to  the 
town,  he  manned  them  with  his  own  people,  and  going  out 
with  them  himself,  in  three  days  made  himself  master  of  every 
ship  on  the  coast. 

By  this  manoeuvre  the  situation' of  the  besieged  was  rendered 
so  hopeless  that  no  mode  of  escape  was  left  but  by  desperate 
sallies.  They  made  them,  but  without  other  effect  than  weak- 
ening their  strength  and  increasing  their  miseries.  Wallace 
was  aware  of  all  their  resolutions ;  for  knowing  what  would 
be  best  for  them  to  do  in  their  situation,  he  needed  no  better 
spy  over  their  actions  than  his  own  judgment. 

Foiled  in  every  attempt,  as  their  opponent,  guessing  their 
intentions,  was  prepared  at  every  point  to  meet  their  different 
essays,  and  losing  men  at  every  rencontre,  their  governor  stood 
without  resource.  Without  provisions,  without  aid  of  any  kind 
for  his  wounded  men,  and  hourly  annoyed  by  the  victorious 
Scots,  who  continued  day  and  night  to  throw  showers  of  arrows 
and  other  missile  weapons  from  the  towers  and  springalls  with 
which  they  had  overtopped  the  walls,  the  unhappy  Earl  of 
Gloucester  seemed  ready  to  rush  on  death,  to  avoid  the  dis- 
grace of  surrendering  the  fortress.  Every  soul  in  the  garrison 
was  reduced  to  similar  despair.  Wallace  even  found  means  to 
dam  up  the'  spring  which  had  supplied  the  citadel  with  water. 
The  common  men,  famished  with  hunger,  smarting  with  wounds, 
and  now  perishing  with  unextinguishable  thirst,  threw  them- 
selves at  the  feet  of  their  officers,  imploring  them  to  represent 
to  their  royal  governor  that  if  he  held  out  longer  he  must  de- 
fend the  place  alone,  for  they  could  not  exist  another  day 
under  their  present  sufferings. 

The  earl,  indeed,  repented  the  rashness  with  which  he  had 
thrown  himself  unprovisioned  into  the  citadel.  He  now  saw 
that  expectation  was  no  apology  for  want  of  precaution.  When 
his  first  division  had  been  overpowered  in  the  assault  on  the 
town,  his  evil  genius  then  suggested  that  it  was  best  to  take 
the  second,  unbroken,  into  the  citadel,  and  there  await  the 
arrival  of  a  reinforcement  by  sea.  But  he  thence  beheld  the 
ships  which  had  defended  the  harbor  seized  by  Wallace  before 
his  eyes.  Hope  was  then  crushed,  and  nothing  but  death  or 
dishonor  seemed  to  be  his  alternatives.  Cut  to  the  soul  at  the 
consequences  of  his  want  of  judgment,  he  determined  to  re- 
trieve his  fame  by  washing  out  that  error  with  his  blood.  To 


BERWICK   AND    THE    TWEED.  225 

fall  under  the  ruins  of  Berwick  castle  was  his  resolution. 
Such  was  the  state  of  his  mind  when  his  officers  appeared  with 
the  petition  from  his  men.  In  proportion  as  they  felt  the  ex- 
tremities into  which  they  were  driven,  the  offence  he  had  com- 
mitted glared  with  tenfold  enormity  in  his  eyes ;  and  in  a  wild 
despair  he  told  them  "they  might  do  as  they  would,  but  for 
his  part,  the  moment  they  opened  the  gates  to  the  enemy,  that 
should  be  the  last  of  his  life.  He,  that  was  the  son-in-law  of 
King  Edward,  would  never  yield  his  sword  to  a  Scottish  rebel." 

Terrified  at  these  threats  on  himself,  the  soldiers,  who  loved 
their  general,  declared  themselves  willing  to  die  with  him,  and, 
as  a  last  effort,  proposed  making  a  mine  under  the  principal 
tower  of  the  Scots,  and,  by  setting  fire  to  it,  at  least  destroy 
the  means  by  which  they  feared  their  enemies  might  storm 
the  citadel. 

As  Wallace  gave  his  orders  from  this  commanding  station 
he  observed  the  besieged  passing  in  numbers  behind  a  mound 
in  a  direction  to  the  tower  where  he  stood ;  he  concluded  what 
was  their  design,  and  ordering  a  countermine  to  be  made, 
what  he  anticipated  happened,  and  Murray,  at  the  head  of  his 
miners,  encountered  those  of  the  castle  at  the  very  moment 
they  would  have  set  fire  to  the  combustibles  laid  to  consume 
the  tower.  The  instant  struggle  was  violent  but  short,  for  the 
impetuous  Scots  drove  their  amazed  and  enfeebled  adversaries 
through  the  aperture  back  into  the  citadel.  At  this  crisis, 
Wallace,  with  a  band  of  resolute  men,  sprang  from  the  tower 
upon  the  wall,  and  it  being  almost  deserted  by  its  late  guards, 
who  had  quitted  their  post  to  assist  in  repelling  the  foe 
below,  he  leaped  into  the  midst  of  the  conflict,  and  the  battle 
became  general.  It  was  decisive,  for  beholding  the  undaunted 
resolution  with  which  the  weakened  and  dying  were  support- 
ing the  cause  their  governor  was  determined  to  defend  to  the 
last,  Wallace  found  his  admiration  and  his  pity  alike  excited, 
and  even  while  his  followers  seemed  to  have  each  his  foe's  life 
in  his  hands,  when  one  instant  more  would  make  him  the  un- 
disputed master  of  the  castle,  for  not  a  Southron  would  then 
breathe  to  dispute  it,  he  resolved  to  stop  the  carnage.  At  the 
moment  when  a  gallant  officer,  who,  having  assaulted  him  with 
the  vehemence  of  despair,  now  lay  disarmed  under  him ;  at 
that  moment,  when  the  discomfited  knight  exclaimed,  "  In 
mercy  strike  and  redeem  the  honor  of  Ralph  de  Monthermer,"  * 
Wallace  raised  his  bugle  and  sounded  the  note  of  peace.  Every 

1  Ralph  de  Monthermer,  a  noble  knight,  who  married  Jane  of  Acre,  the  daughter  of 
King  Edward  I.  He  was  created  Earl  of  Gloucester  on  his  marriage  with  that  princess. 
—  (1809.) 

VOL.  I.  — 15 


226  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

sword  was  arrested,  and  the  universal  clangor  of  battle  was 
hushed  in  expecting  silence. 

"  Rise,  brave  earl !  "  cried  Wallace  to  the  governor ;  "  I  revere 
virtue  too  sincerely  to  take  an  unworthy  advantage  of  my 
fortune.  The  valor  of  this  garrison  commands  my  respect, 
and,  as  a  proof  of  my  sincerity,  I  grant  to  it  what  I  have 
never  yet  done  to  any :  that  yourself  and  these  dauntless  men 
march  out  with  the  honors  of  war  and  without  any  bonds  on 
your  future  conduct  towards  us.  We  leave  it  to  your  own 
hearts  to  decide  whether  you  will  ever  again  be  made  instru- 
ments to  enchain  a  free  and  brave  people." 

While  he  was  speaking,  De  Monthermer  leaned  gloomily  on 
the  sword  he  had  returned  to  him,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his 
men.  They  answered  his  glance  with  looks  that  said  they 
understood  him,  and  passing  a  few  words  in  whispers  to  each 
other,  one  at  last  spoke  aloud :  "  Decide  for  us,  earl ;  we  are 
as  ready  to  die  as  to  live,  so  that  in  neither  we  may  be  divided 
from  you." 

At  this  generous  declaration  the  proud  despair  of  De  Mon- 
thermer gave  way  to  nobler  feelings,  and  while  a  big  tear 
stood  in  each  eye  he  turned  to  Wallace,  and  stretching  out  his 
hand  to  him,  "  Noble  Scot,"  said  he,  "  your  unexampled  gener- 
osity and  the  invincible  fidelity  of  these  heroic  men  have  com- 
pelled me  to  accept  the  life  I  had  resolved  to  lose  under  these 
walls  rather  than  resign  them  ;  but  virtue  is  resistless,  and  to 
it  do  I  surrender  that  pride  of  soul  which  made  existence  in- 
sufferable under  the  consciousness  of  having  erred.  When  I 
became  the  husband  of  King  Edward's  daughter,  I  believed 
myself  pledged  to  victories  or  to  death ;  but  there  is  a  con- 
quest, and  I  feel  it,  greater  than  over  hosts  in  the  field ;  and 
here  taught  to  make  it,  the  husband  of  the  Princess  of  Eng- 
land, the  proud  Earl  of  Gloucester,  consents  to  live,  to  be  a 
monument  of  Scottish  nobleness,  and  of  the  inflexible  fidelity 
of  English  soldiers." 

"You  live,  illustrious  and  virtuous  Englishman,"  returned 
Wallace,  "  to  redeem  that  honor  of  which  too  many  rapacious 
sons  of  England  have  robbed  their  country.  Go  forth,  there- 
fore, as  my  conqueror,  for  you  have  in  this  spot  extinguished 
that  burning  antipathy  with  which  the  outraged  heart  of 
William  Wallace  had  vowed  to  extirpate  every  Southron  from 
off  this  ravaged  land.  Honor,  brave  earl,  makes  all  men  breth- 
ren, and  as  a  brother  I  open  these  gates  for  you  to  pass  into 
your  country.  When  there,  if  you  ever  remember  William 
Wallace,  let  it  be  as  a  man  who  fights  not  for  conquest  nor 


STIRLING.  227 

renown,  but  to  restore  Scotland  to  her  rights,  and  then  resign 
his  sword  to  peace." 

"I  shall  remember  you,  Sir  William  Wallace,"  returned 
De  Monthermer ;  "  and  as  a  pledge  of  it,  you  shall  never  see 
me  again  in  this  country  till  I  come  an  ambassador  of  that 
peace  for  which  you  fight.  But  meanwhile,  in  the  moment  of 
hot  contention  for  the  rights  which  you  believe  wrested  from 
you,  do  you  remember  that  they  have  not  been  so  much  the 
spoil  of  my  royal  father's  ambition,  as  the  traffic  of  your  own 
venal  nobles.  Had  I  not  believed  that  Scotland  was  unworthy 
of  freedom,  I  should  never  have  appeared  upon  her  borders ; 
but  now  that  I  see  she  has  brave  hearts  within  her,  who  not 
only  resist  oppression,  but  know  how  to  wield  power,  I  detest 
the  zeal  with  which  I  volunteered  to  rivet  her  chains.  And  I 
repeat,  that  never  again  shall  my  hostile  foot  impress  this 
land." 

These  sentiments  were  answered  in  the  same  spirit  by  his 
soldiers.  And  the  Scots,  following  the  example  of  their 
leader,  treated  them  with  every  kindness.  After  dispensing 
amongst  them  provisions,  and  appointing  means  to  convey  the 
wounded  in  comfort,  Wallace  bade  a  cordial  farewell  to  the 
Earl  of  Gloucester,  and  his  men  conducted  their  reconciled 
enemies  over  the  Tweed.  There  they  parted.  The  English 
bent  their  course  toward  London,  and  the  Scots  returned  to 
their  victorious  general. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

STIRLING. 

THE  happy  effects  of  these  rapid  conquests  were  soon  appar- 
ent. The  fall  of  Berwick  excited  such  a  confidence  in  the 
minds  of  the  neighboring  chieftains,  that  every  hour  brought 
fresh  recruits  to  Wallace.  Every  mouth  was  full  of  the  praises 
of  the  young  conqueror ;  every  eye  was  eager  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  his  person;  and  while  the  men  were  emulous  to 
share  his  glory,  the  women  in  their  secret  bowers  put  up  pray- 
ers for  the  preservation  of  one  so  handsome  and  so  brave. 

Amongst  the  many  of  every  rank  and  age  who  hastened  to 
pay  their  respects  to  the  deliverer  of  Berwick  was  Sir  Richard 
Maitland,  of  Thirlestane,  the'  Stalwart h  Knight  of  Lauderdale.1 

1  Sir  Richard  Maitlaud,  of  the  castle  of  Thirlstane  on  the  Leeder,  is  noted  in  Scottish 
tradition  for  his  bravery.  His  valiant  defence  of  his  castle  against  the  English  in  his  ex- 
treuie  old  uge  id  still  the  subject  of  enthusiasm  among* t  the  people  of  Luuderdale.  llf 


228  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Wallace  was  no  sooner  told  of  the  approach  of  the  venerable 
chief  than  he  set  forth  to  bid  him  welcome.  At  sight  of  the 
champion  of  Scotland,  Sir  Richard  threw  himself  off  his  horse 
with  a  military  grace  that  might  have  become  even  youthful 
years,  and  hastening  toward  Wallace,  clasped  him  in  his  arms. 

"  Let  me  look  on  thee  ! "  cried  the  old  knight ;  "  let  me  feast 
my  eyes  on  the  true  Scot  who  again  raises  this  hoary  head  so 
long  bent  in  shame  for  its  dishonored  country ! "  While  he 
spoke  he  viewed  Wallace  from  head  to  foot.  "  I  knew  Sir 
Ronald  Crawford  and  thy  valiant  father,"  continued  he.  "  Oh, 
had  they  lived  to  see  this  day !  But  the  base  murder  of  the 
one  thou  hast  nobly  avenged,  and  the  honorable  grave  of  the 
other  on  London  hill,1  thou  wilt  cover  with  a  monument  of 
thine  own  glories.  Low  are  laid  my  own  children  in  this  land 
of  strife,  but  in  thee  I  see  a  son  of  Scotland  that  is  to  dry  all 
our  tears." 

He  embraced  Wallace  again  and  again.  And,  as  the  veteran's 
overflowing  heart  rendered  him  garrulous,  he  expatiated  on  the 
energy  with  which  the  young  victor  had  pursued  his  conquests, 
and  paralleled  them  with  the  brilliant  actions  he  had  seen  in  his 
youth.  While  he  thus  discoursed,  Wallace  drew  him  towards 
the  castle,  and  there  presented  to  him  the  two  nephews  of  the 
Earl  of  Mar. 

He  paid  some  warm  compliments  to  Edwin  on  his  early  suc- 
cess in  the  career  of  glory ;  and  then  turning  to  Murray,  "  Ay," 
said  he,  "  it  is  joy  to  me  to  see  the  valiant  house  of  Bothwell 
in  the  third  generation.  Thy  grandfather  and  myself  were 
boys  together  at  the  coronation  of  Alexander  the  Second,  and 
that  is  eighty  years  ago.  Since  then  what  have  I  not  seen ! 
the  death  of  two  noble  Scottish  kings ;  our  blooming  princes 
ravished  from  us  by  untimely  fates ;  the  throne  sold  to  a 
coward,  and  at  last  seized  by  a  foreign  power.  Then,  in  my 
own  person,  I  have  been  the  father  of  as  brave  and  beauteous 
a  family  as  ever  blessed  a  parent's  eye ;  but  they  are  all  torn 
from  me.  Two  of  my  sons  sleep  on  the  plains  of  Dunbar ;  my 
third,  my  dauntless  William,  since  that  fatal  day  has  been 
kept  a  prisoner  in  England.  And  my  daughters,  the  tender 
blossoms  of  my  aged  years,  they  grew  around  me,  the  fairest 
lilies  of  the  land;  but  they  too  are  passed  away.  The  one, 
scorning  the  mere  charms  of  youth,  and  preferring  a  union 

was  usually  called  the  Stalwarth  auld  knight  of  Laud er dale,  meaning  the  brave  old 
knight,  etc.  He  had  three  sons,  but  one  only  survived  him,  who,  from  that  circum- 
stance, waa  surnamed  burd  alane,  which  signifies  solitary. 

1  Sir  Malcolm  Wallace,  the  father  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  was  killed  in  the  year  1295, 
on  Loudon  hill,  in  a  battle  with  the  English.  —  (1809.) 


STIRLING.  229 

with  a  soul  that  had  long  conversed  with  superior  regions,  loved 
the  sage  of  Ercildown.  But  my  friend  lost  this  rose  of  his 
bosom,  and  I  the  child  of  my  heart,  ere  she  had  been  a  year 
his  wife.  Then  was  my  last  and  only  daughter  married  to  the 
Lord  Mar ;  and  in  giving  birth  to  my  dear  Isabella  she  too  died. 
Ah,  my  good  young  knight,  were  it  not  for  that  sweet  child, 
the  living  image  of  her  mother,  who  in  the  very  spring  of  youth 
was  cropt  and  fell,  I  should  be  alone ;  my  hoary  head  would 
descend  to  the  grave  unwept,  unregretted." 

The  joy  of  the  old  man  having  recalled  such  melancholy  re- 
membrances, he  wept  upon  the  shoulder  of  Edwin,  who  had 
drawn  so  near  that  the  story  which  was  begun  to  Murray 
was  ended  to  him.  To  give  the  mourning  father  time  to  recover 
himself,  Wallace. was  moving  away,  when  he  was  met  by  Ker, 
bringing  information  that  a  youth  had  just  arrived  in  breath- 
less haste  from  Stirling  with  a  sealed  packet  which  he  would 
not  deliver  into  any  hands  but  those  of  Sir  William  Wallace. 
Wallace  requested  his  friends  to  show  every  attention  to  the 
Lord  of  Thirlestane,  and  then  withdrew  to  meet  the  messenger. 

On  his  entering  the  anteroom,  the  youth  sprung  forwards ; 
but  suddenly  checking  himself,  he  .stood,  as  if  irresolute  whom 
to  address. 

"  This  is  Sir  William  Wallace,  young  man,"  said  Ker ;  "  de- 
liver your  embassy." 

At  these  words  the  youth  pulled  a  packet  from  his  bosom, 
and,  putting  it  into  the  chief's  hand,  retired  in  confusion. 
Wallace  gave  orders  to  Ker  to  take  care  of  him,  and  then 
turned  to  inspect  its  contents.  He  wondered  from  whom  it 
could  come,  aware  of  no  Scot  in  Stirling  who  would  dare  to 
write  to  him  while  that  town  was  possessed  by  the  enemy  ; 
but  not  losing  a  moment  in  conjecture,  he  broke  the  seal. 

How  was  he  startled  at  the  first  words !  and  how  was  every 
energy  of  his  heart  roused  to  redoubled  action  when  he  turned 
to  the  signature  !  The  first  words  in  the  letter  were  these : 

"  A  daughter,  trembling  for  the  life  of  her  father,  presumes 
to  address  Sir  William  Wallace."  The  signature  was  "  Helen 
Mar."  He  began  the  letter  again : 

"  A  daughter,  trembling  for  the  life  of  her  father,  presumes 
to  address  Sir  William  Wallace.  Alas  !  it  will  be  a  long  letter, 
for  it  is  to  tell  of  our  countless  distresses.  You  have  been  his 
deliverer  from  the  sword,  from  chains,  and  from  the  waves. 
Refuse  not  to  save  him  again  to  whom  you  have  so  often  given 
life,  and  hasten,  brave  Wallace,  to  preserve  the  Earl  of  Mar 
from  the  scaffold. 


230  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

11 A  cruel  deception  brought  him  from  the  Isle  of  Bute,  where 
you  imagined  you  had  left  him  in  security.  Lord  Aymer  de 
Valence,  escaping  a  second  time  from  your  sword,  fled,  under 
covert  of  the  night,  from  Ayr  to  Stirling.  Cressingham,  the 
rapacious  robber  of  all  our  castles,  found  in  him  an  apt  coad- 
jutor. They  concerted  how  to  avenge  your  late  successes  ;  and 
Cressingham,  eager  to  enrich  himself  while  he  flattered  the  re- 
sentments of  his  commander,  suggested  that  you,  Sir  William 
"Wallace,  our  deliverer  and  our  enemy's  scourge,  would  most 
easily  be  made  to  feel  through  the  bosoms  of  your  friends. 
These  cruel  men  have  therefore  determined,  by  a  mock  trial,  to 
condemn  my  father  to  death,  and  thus,  while  they  distress  you, 
put  themselves  in  possession  of  his  lands,  with  the  semblance 
of  justice. 

"  The  substance  of  this  most  unrighteous  debate  was  com- 
municated to  me  by  De  Valence  himself,  thinking  to  excuse  his 
part  in  the  affair  by  proving  to  me  how  insensible  he  is  to  the 
principles  which  move  alike  a  patriot  and  a  man  of  honor. 

"  Having  learnt  from  some  too  well-informed  spy  that  Lord 
Mar  had  retired  in  peaceful  obscurity  to  Bute,  these  arch- 
enemies to  our  'country  sent  a  body  of  men  disguised  as  Scots 
to  Gourock.  There  they  despatched  a  messenger  into  the  is- 
land to  inform  Lord  Mar  that  Sir  William  Wallace  was  on  the 
banks  of  the  frith  waiting  to  converse  with  him.  My  noble 
father,  unsuspicious  of  treachery,  hurried  to  the  summons. 
Lady  Mar  accompanied  him,  and  so  both  fell  into  the  snare. 

"  They  were  brought  prisoners  to  Stirling,  where  another 
affliction  awaited  him,  —  he  was  to  see  his  daughter  and  his 
sister  in  captivity. 

"  After  I  had  been  betrayed  from  St.  Fillan's  monastery  by 
the  falsehoods  of  one  Scottish  knight,  and  rescued  from  his 
power  by  the  gallantry  of  another,  I  sought  the  protection 
of  my  aunt,  Lady  Ruthven,  who  then  dwelt  at  Alloa,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Forth.1  Her  husband  had  been  invited  to  Ayr,  by 
some  treacherous  requisition  of  the  Governor  Arnulf,  and 
with  many  other  lords  was  thrown  into  prison.  Report  says, 
bravest  of  men,  that  you  have  given  freedom  to  my  betrayed 
uncle. 

"The  moment  Lord  Ruthven's  person  was  secured,  his  estates 
were  seized,  and  my  aunt  and  myself  being  found  at  Alloa,  we 
were  carried  prisoners  to  this  city.  Alas  !  we  had  then  no 
valiant  arm  to  preserve  us  from  our  enemies.  Lady  Ruthven's 
first-born  son  was  slain  in  the  fatal  day  of  Dunbar,  and  in 

1  The  remains  of  this  ancient  seat  of  the  Mar  family  are  yet  visible.  —  (1809.) 


STIRLING.  231 

terror  of  the  like  fate,  she  has  placed  her  eldest  surviving  boy 
in  a  convent. 

"  Some  days  after  our  arrival,  my  dear  father  was  brought 
to  Stirling.  Though  a  captive  in  the  town,  I  was  not  then  con- 
fined to  any  closer  durance  than  the  walls.  While  he  was  yet 
passing  through  the  streets  rumor  told  my  aunt  that  the  Scot- 
tish lord  then  leading  to  prison  was  her  beloved  brother.  She 
flew  to  me  in  an  agony  to  tell  me  the  dreadful  tidings.  I 
heard  no  more,  saw  no  more,  till  having  rushed  into  the  streets, 
and  bursting  through  every  obstacle  of  crowd  and  soldiers,  I 
found  myself  clasped  in  my  father's  arms  —  in  his  shackled 
arms  !  What  a  moment  was  that !  Where  was  Sir  William 
Wallace  in  that  hour  ?  Where  the  brave  unknown  knight  who 
had  sworn  to  me  to  seek  my  father  and  defend  him  with  his 
life  ?  Both  were  absent,  and  he  was  in  chains. 

"My  grief  and  distraction  baffled  the  attempts  of  the  guards 
to  part  us ;  and  what  became  of  me  I  know  not  till  I  found 
myself  lying  on  a  couch  attended  by  many  women  and  sup- 
ported by  my  aunt.  When  I  had  recovered  to  lamentation  and 
to  tears,  my  aunt  told  me  I  was  in  the  apartments  of  the  deputy 
warden.  He,  with  Cressingham,  having  gone  out  to  meet  the 
man  they  had  so  basely  drawn  into  their  toils,  De  Valence 
himself  saw  the  struggle  of  paternal  affection  contending 
against  the  men  who  would  have  torn  a  senseless  daughter 
from  his  arms ;  and  yet,  merciless  man  !  he  separated  us,  and 
sent  me  with  my  aunt  a  prisoner  to  his  house. 

"  The  next  day  a  packet  was  put  into  my  aunt's  hands  con- 
taining a  few  precious  lines  from  my  father  to  me ;  also  a  let- 
ter from  the  countess  to  Lady  Ruthven.  full  of  your  goodness 
to  her  and  to  my  father,  and  narrating  the  cruel  manner  in 
which  they  had  been  ravished  from  the  asylum  in  which  you 
had  placed  them.  She  then  said,  that  could  she  find  means  of 
apprising  you  of  the  danger  in  which  she  and  her  husband  are 
now  involved,  she  would  be  sure  of  a  second  rescue.  Whether 
she  has  blessedly  found  these  means  I  know  not,  for  all  com- 
munication between  us  since  the  delivery  of  that  letter  has 
been  rendered  impracticable.  The  messenger  that  brought  the 
packet  was  a  good  Southron  who  had  been  won  by  Lady  Mar's 
entreaties.  But  on  his  quitting  our  apartments  he  was  seized 
by  a  servant  of  De  Valence,  and  on  the  same  day  put  publicly 
to  death,  to  intimidate  all  others  from  the  like  compassion  to 
the  sufferings  of  unhappy  Scotland.  Oh !  Sir  William  Wallace, 
will  not  your  sword  reach  these  men  of  blood  ? 

"  Earl  de  Valence  compelled  my  aunt  to  yield  the  packet  to 


232  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

him.  '  We  had  already  read  it,  therefore  did  not  regret  ifc  on 
that  head,  but  feared  the  information  it  might  give  relative  to 
you.  In  consequence  of  this  circumstance  I  was  made  a  closer 
prisoner.  But  captivity  could  have  no  terrors  for  me  did  it 
not  divide  me  from  my  father.  And,  grief  on  grief !  what 
words  have  I  to  write  it?  they  have  CONDEMNED  HIM  TO  DIE  ! 
That  fatal  letter  of  my  step-mother's  was  brought  out  against 
him,  and  as  your  adherent,  Sir  William  Wallace,  they  have 
sentenced  him  to  lose  his  head. 

"I  have  knelt  to  Earl  de  Valence,  I  have  implored  my 
father's  life  at  his  hands,  but  to  no  purpose.  He  tells  me  that 
Cressingham  at  his  side,  and  Ormsby  by  letters  from  Scone, 
declare  it  necessary  that  an  execution  of  consequence  should 
be  made,  to  appal  the  discontented  Scots,  and  that  as  no  lord 
is  more  esteemed  in  Scotland  than  the  Earl  of  Mar,  he  must  be 
the  sacrifice. 

"  Hasten,  then,  my  father's  preserver  and  friend  !  hasten  to 
save  him !  Oh,  fly  for  the  sake  of  the  country  he  loves,  for 
the  sake  of  the  hapless  beings  dependent  on  his  protection !  I 
shall  be  on  my  knees  till  I  hear  your  trumpet  before  the  walls, 
for  in  you  and  Heaven  now  rest  all  the  hopes  of  Helen  Mar." 

A  cold  dew  stood  on  the  limbs  of  Wallace  as  he  closed  the 
letter.  It  might  be  too  late.  The  sentence  was  passed  on  the 
earl,  and  his  executioners  were  prompt  as  cruel ;  the  axe  might 
already  have  fallen. 

He  called  to  Ker  for  the  messenger  to  be  brought  in.  He 
entered.  Wallace  inquired  how  long  he  had  been  from  Stir- 
ling. "  Only  thirty-four  hours,"  replied  the  youth,  adding  that 
he  had  travelled  night  and  day  for  fear  the  news  of  the  risings 
in  Annandale  and  the  taking  of  Berwick  should  precipitate  the 
earl's  death. 

"  I  accompany  you  this  instant,"  cried  Wallace.  "  Ker,  see 
that  the  troops  get  under  arms."  As  he  spoke  he  turned  into 
the  room  where  he  had  left  the  Knight  of  Thirlestane. 

"  Sir  Richard  Maitland,"  said  he,  willing  to  avoid  exciting 
his  alarm,  "there  is  more  work  for  us  at  Stirling.  Lord 
Aymer  de  Valence  has  again  escaped  the  death  we  thought 
had  overtaken  him,  and  is  now  in  that  citadel.  I  have  just 
received  a  summons  thither  which  I  must  obey."  At  these 
words  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick  gave  a  shout  and  rushed  from 
the  apartment.  Wallace  looked  after  him  for  a  moment  and 
then  continued:  "Follow  us  with  your  prayers,  Sir  Richard, 
and  I  shall  not  despair  of  sending  blessed  tidings  to  the  banks 
of  the  Lauder." 


STIRLING.  233 

"  What  has  happened  ? "  inquired  Murray,  who  saw  that 
something  more  than  the  escape  of  De  Valence  had  been  im- 
parted to  his  general. 

"We  must  spare  this  good  old  man,"  returned  he,  "and 
have  him  conducted  to  his  home  before  I  declare  it  publicly; 
but  the  Earl  of  Mar  is  again  a  prisoner,  and  in  Stirling." 

Murray,  who  instantly  comprehended  his  uncle's  danger, 
speeded  the  departure  of  Sir  Richard,  and  as  Wallace  held  his 
stirrup,  the  chief  laid  his  hand  on  his  head  and  blessed  him : 
"  The  seer  of  Ercildown  is  too  ill  to  bring  his  benediction  him- 
self, but  I  breathe  it  over  this  heroic  brow  ! "  Wallace  bowed 
his  head  in  silence,  and  the  bridle  being  in  the  hand  of  Lord 
Andrew  he  led  the  horse  out  of  the  eastern  gate  of  the  town, 
where,  taking  leave  of  the  veteran  knight,  he  soon  rejoined  his 
commander,  whom  he  found  in  the  midst  of  his  chieftains. 

He  had  informed  them  of  the  Earl  of  Mar's  danger,  and 
the  policy,  as  well  as  justice,  of  rescuing  so  powerful  and 
patriotic  a  nobleman  from  the  threatened  execution.  Lord 
Ruthven  needed  no  arguments  to  precipitate  him  to  the  as- 
sistance of  his  brother  and  his  wife,  and  the  anxieties  of  the 
affectionate  Edwin  were  all  awake  when  he  knew  that  his 
mother  was  a  prisoner.  Lord  Andrew  smiled  proudly  when 
he  returned  his  cousin's  letter  to  Wallace.  "  We  shall  have 
the  rogue  on  the  nail  yet/'  cried  he  ;  "  my  uncle's  brave  head 
is  not  ordained  to  fall  by  the  stroke  of  such  a  coward." 

"  So  I  believe,"  replied  Wallace  ;  and  then  turning  to  Lord 
Dundaff ,  "  My  lord,"  said  he,  "  I  leave  you  governor  of 
Berwick." 

The  veteran  warrior  grasped  Wallace's  hand.  "To  be  your 
representative  in  this  fortress  is  the  proudest  station  this 
war-worn  frame  hath  ever  filled.  My  son  must  be  my  repre- 
sentative with  you  in  the  field."  He  waved  Sir  John  Graham 
towards  him ;  the  young  knight  advanced,  and  Lord  Dundaff 
placing  his  son's  hands  upon  his  target,  continued :  "  Swear, 
that  as  this  defends  the  body,  you  will  ever  strive  to  cover 
Scotland  from  her  enemies,  and  that  from  this  hour  you  will 
be  the  faithful  friend  and  follower  of  Sir  William  Wallace." 

"  I  swear,"  returned  Graham,  kissing  the  shield.1  Wallace 
pressed  his  hand.  "  I  have  brothers  around  me,  rather  than 
what  the  world  calls  friends.  And  with  such  valor,  such 
fidelity  to  aid  me,  can  I  be  otherwise  than  a  victor  ?  Heaven's 
anointed  sword  is  with  such  fellowship." 

1  This  circumstance  is  recorded  of  Sir  John  Graham  and  his  noble  father,  who  was 
David  Graham,  Lord  of  Dundaff  and  Kincardine,  and  a  descendant  of  the  renowned 
Graham  from  whom  the  dyke  is  named.  Our  bravr  Sir  Thomas  Graham,  Lord  Lyudoch, 
is  of  the  same  ancestry.  —  (1809.) 


234  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Edwin,  who  stood  near  this  rite  of  generous  enthusiasm, 
softly  whispered  to  Wallace  as  he  turned  towards  his  troops : 
"But  amongst  all  these  brothers,  cease  not  to  remember 
Edwin,  the  youngest  and  the  least.  Ah,  my  beloved  general, 
what  Jonathan  was  to  David  I  would  be  to  thee." 

Wallace  looked  on  him  with  penetrating  tenderness  ;  his 
heart  was  suddenly  wrung  by  a  recollection  which  the  words 
of  Edwin  had  recalled :  "  But  thy  love,  Edwin,  passes  not  the 
love  of  woman  !  "  —  "  But  it  equals  it,"  replied  he  ;  "  what  has 
been  done  for  thee,  I  would  do ;  only  love  me  as  David  did 
Jonathan,  and  I  shall  be  the  happiest  of  the  happy."  —  "  Be 
happy,  then,  dear  boy  ! "  answered  Wallace ;  "  for  all  that 
ever  beat  in  human  breast  for  friend  or  brother  lives  in  my 
heart  for  thee." 

At  that  moment  Sir  John  Graham  rejoined  them,  and  some 
other  captains  coming  up,  Wallace  made  the  proper  military 
dispositions,  and  every  man  took  his  station  at  the  head  of  his 
division. 

Until  the  men  had  marched  far  beyond  the  chance  of  rumors 
reaching  Thirlestane,  they  were  not  informed  of  the  Earl  of 
Mar's  danger.  They  conceived  their  present  errand  was  the 
recapture  of  De  Valence.  "  But  at  a  proper  moment,"  said 
Wallace,  "  they  shall  know  the  whole  truth ;  for,"  added  he, 
"  as  it  is  a  law  of  equity  that  what  concerns  all  should  be 
approved  by  all,  and  that  common  dangers  should  be  repelled 
by  united  efforts,  the  people  who  follow  our  standards,  not  as 
hirelings,  but  with  willing  spirits,  ought  to  know  our  reasons 
for  requiring  their  services." 

"They  who  follow  you,"  said  Graham,  "have  too  much  con- 
fidence in  their  leader  to  require  any  reasons  for  his  move- 
ments." 

"It  is  to  place  that  confidence  on  a  sure  foundation,  my 
brave  friends,"  returned  Wallace,  "  that  I  explain  what  there 
is  no  just  reason  to  conceal.  Should  policy  ever  compel  me 
to  strike  a  blow  without  previously  telling  my  agents  where- 
fore, I  should  then  draw  upon  their  faith  and  expect  that  con- 
fidence in  my  honor  and  arms  which  I  now  place  on  their 
discretion  and  fidelity." 

Exordiums  were  not  requisite  to  nerve  every  limb  and  to 
strengthen  every  heart  in  the  toilsome  journey;  mountains 
were  climbed,  vast  plains  traversed,  rivers  forded,  and  preci- 
pices crossed  without  one  man  in  the  ranks  lingering  on  his 
steps  or  dropping  his  head  upon  his  pike  to  catch  a  mo- 
ment's slumber.  Those  who  had  fought  with  Wallace  longed 


STIRLING.  235 

to  redouble  their  fame  under  his  command,  and  they  who  had 
recently  embraced  his  standard  panted  with  a  virtuous  ambi- 
tion to  rival  those  first-born  in  arms. 

Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick  had  been  the  first  to  fly  to  arms  on 
the  march  to  Stirling  being  mentioned,  and  when  Wallace 
stood  forward  to  declare  that  rest  should  be  dispensed  with 
till  Stirling  fell,  full  of  a  fierce  joy  the  ardent  knight  darted 
over  every  obstacle  to  reach  his  aim ;  he  flew  to  the  van  of  his 
troops,  and  hailing  them  forward,  "  Come  on !  "  cried  he,  "  and 
in  the  blood  of  Cressingham  let  us  forever  sink  King  Edward's 
Scottish  crown." 

The  shouts  of  the  men,  who  seemed  to  drink  in  the  spirit 
that  blazed  from  Kirkpatrick's  eyes,  made  the  echoes  of  Lam- 
mermuir  ring  with  a  long-estranged  noise.  It  was  the  voice 
of  liberty ;  leaping  every  bound,  the  eager  van  led  the  way, 
and  with  prodigous  perseverance,  dragging  their  war-machines 
in  the  rear,  the  rest  pressed  on  till  they  reached  the  Carron 
side.  At  the  moment  the  foaming  steed  of  Wallace,  smoking 
with  the  labors  of  a  long  and  rapid  march,  was  plunging  into 
the  stream  to  take  the  ford,  Ker  snatched  the  bridle  of  the 
horse.  "  My  lord,"  cried  he,  "  a  man  on  full  speed  from  Doug- 
las castle  has  brought  this  packet." 

In  his  march  from  Ayr  Wallace  had  left  Sir  Eustace  Max- 
well governor  of  that  castle  and  Monteith  as  his  lieutenant. 

Wallace  opened  the  packet  and  read  as  follows : 

The  patriots  in  Annandale  have  been  beaten  by  Lord  de  Warenne. 
Sir  John  Monteith,  who  volunteered  to  head  them,  is  taken  prisoner  with 
twelve  hundred  men. 

Earl  de  Warenne  comes  to  resume  his  arrogant  title  of  Lord  Warden 
of  Scotland,  and  thereby  to  relieve  his  deputy,  Aymer  de  Valence,  who  is 
recalled  to  take  possession  of  the  lordship  of  Pembroke.  In  pursuance 
of  his  usurping  commission,  the  earl  is  now  marching  rapidly  towards  the 
Lothians,  in  the  hope  of  intercepting  you  in  your  progress. 

Thanks  to  the  constant  information  you  send  us  of  your  movements, 
for  being  enabled  to  apprise  you  of  this  danger.  I  should  have  attempted 
to  have  checked  the  Southron  by  annoying  his  flanks  had  not  his  numbers 
rendered  such  an  enterprise  on  my  part  hopeless.  But  his  aim  being  to 
come  up  with  you,  if  you  meet  him  in  the  van  we  shall  have  him  in  the 
rear;  and,  so  surrounded,  he  must  be  cut  to  pieces.  Surely  the  tree  you 
planted  in  Dumbarton  is  not  now  to  be  blasted. 

Ever  my  general's  and  Scotland's  true  servant, 

EUSTACE  MAXWELL. 

"  What  answer  ?  "  inquired  Ker. 

Wallace  hastily  engraved  with  his  dagger's  point  upon  his 
gauntlet,  "Reviresco!1  Our  sun  is  above!"  and  desiring  it 

1  Remrexco  !  means  /  bud  again  !  This  encouraging  word  is  now  the  motto  of  the 
Maxwell  arms.— (1809.) 


236  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

might  be  given  to  the  messenger  to  carry  to  Sir  Eustace  Max- 
well, he  refixed  himself  in  his  saddle  and  spurred  over  the 
Carron. 

The  moon  was  near  her  meridian  as  the  wearied  troops 
halted  on  the  deep  shadows  of  the  Carse  of  Stirling.  All 
around  them  was  desolation;  the  sword  and  the  fire  had  been 
there ;  not  in  open  declared  warfare,  but  under  the  darkness  of 
midnight  and  impelled  by  rapacity  and  wantonness ;  hence 
from  the  base  of  the  rock  even  to  the  foot  of  the  Clackmannan 
hills  all  lay  a  smoking  wilderness. 

An  hour's  rest  was  sufficient  to  restore  every  exhausted 
power  to  the  limbs  of  the  determined  followers  of  Wallace. 
And,  as  the  morning  dawned,  the  sentinels  on  the  ramparts  of 
the  town  were  not  only  surprised  to  see  a  host  below,  but  that 
part,  by  the  most  indefatigable  labor  and  a  silence  like 
death,  had  not  merely  passed  the  ditch,  but  having  gained 
the  counterscarp,  had  fixed  their  movable  towers,  and  were  at 
that  instant  overlooking  the  highest  bastions.  The  mangonels 
and  petraries  and  other  implements  for  battering  walls,  and 
the  ballista,  with  every  efficient  means  of  throwing  missive 
weapons,  were  ready  to  discharge  their  artillery  upon  the  heads 
of  the  besieged. 

At  a  sight  so  unexpected,  which  seemed  to  have  arisen  out 
of  the  earth  like  an  exhalation,  with  such  muteness  and  ex- 
pedition had  the  Scottish  operations  been  carried  on,  the 
Southrons,  struck  with  dread,  fled  a  moment  from  the  walls,  but 
immediately  discovering  their  presence  of  mind  they  returned 
and  discharged  a  cloud  of  arrows  upon  their  assailants.  A 
messenger  meanwhile  was  sent  into  the  citadel  to  apprise  De 
Valence  and  the  Governor  Cressingham  of  the  assault.  The 
interior  gates  now  sent  forth  thousands  to  the  walls,  but  in 
proportion  to  the  numbers  which  approached,  the  greater  was 
the  harvest  of  death  prepared  for  the  terrible  arm  of  Wallace, 
whose  tremendous  war-wolfs  throwing  prodigious  stones,  and 
lighter  springalls  casting  forth  brazen  darts,  swept  away  file 
after  file  of  the  reinforcements.  It  grieved  the  noble  heart  of 
the  Scottish  commander  to  see  so  many  valiant  men  urged  to 
inevitable  destruction ;  but  still  they  advanced,  and  that  his 
own  might  be  preserved  they  must  fall.  To  shorten  the  bloody 
contest  his  direful  weapons  were  worked  with  redoubled  energy, 
and  so  mortal  a  shower  fell  that  the  heavens  seemed  to  rain 
iron.  The  crushed  and  stricken  enemy,  shrinking  under  the 
mighty  tempest,  forsook  their  ground. 

The  ramparts  deserted,  Wallace  sprung  from  his  tower  upon 


STIRLING.'  237 

the  walls.  At  that  moment  De  Valence  opened  one  of  the 
gates,  and,  at  the  head  of  a  formidable  body,  charged  the  near- 
est Scots.  A  good  soldier  is  never  taken  unawares,  and  Murray 
and  Graham  were  prepared  to  receive  him.  Furiously  driving 
him  to  a  retrograde  motion,  they  forced  him  back  into  the  town. 
But  there  all  was  confusion;  Wallace,  with  his  resolute  fol- 
lowers, had  already  put  Cressingham  and  his  legions  to  flight, 
and  closely  pursued  by  Kirkpatrick  they  threw  themselves  into 
the  castle.  Meanwhile  the  victorious  Wallace  surrounded  the 
amazed  De  Valence,  who,  caught  in  double  toils,  called  to  his 
men  to  fight  for  their  king,  and  neither  give  nor  take  quarter. 

The  brave  fellows  too  strictly  obeyed,  and  while  they  fell 
on  all  sides  he  supported  them  with  a  courage  which  horror  of 
Wallace's  vengeance  for  his  grandfather's  death,  and  the  at- 
tempt on  his  own  life  in  the  hall  at  Dumbarton,  rendered  des- 
perate. At  last  he  encountered  the  conquering  chief  arm  to 
arm.  Great  was  the  dismay  of  De  Valence  at  this  meeting ; 
but  as  death  was  now  all  he  saw  before  him,  he  resolved,  if  he 
must  die,  that  the  soul  of  his  enemy  should  attend  him  to  the 
other  world. 

He  fought,  not  with  the  steady  valor  of  a  warrior  deter- 
mined to  vanquish  or  to  die,  but  with  the  fury  of  despair, 
with  the  violence  of  a  hyena  thirsting  for  the  blood  of  her 
opponent.  Drunk  with  rage,  he  made  a  desperate  plunge  at 
the  heart  of  Wallace,  —  a  plunge  armed  with  execrations  and 
all  his  strength ; '  but  his  sword  missed  its  aim  and  entered 
the  side  of  a  youth  who  at  that  moment  had  thrown  himself 
before  his  general.  Wallace  saw  where  the  deadly  blow  fell, 
and  instantly  closing  on  the  earl,  with  a  vengeance  in  his  eyes 
which  reminded  his  now  determined  victim  of  the  horrid  vision 
he  had  seen  in  the  burning  Barns  of  Ayr,  with  one  grasp  of 
his  arm  the  incensed  chief  hurled  him  to  the  ground,  and,  set- 
ting his  foot  upon  his  breast,  would  have  buried  his  dagger 
there  had  not  De  Valence  dropped  his  uplifted  sword,  and, 
with  horror  in  every  feature,  raised  his  clasped  hand  in  speech- 
less supplication. 

Wallace  suspended  the  blow,  and  De  Valence  exclaimed, 
"  My  life,  this  once  again,  gallant  Wallace  !  by  your  hopes  of 
heaven,  grant  me  mercy ! " 

Wallace  looked  on  the  trembling  recreant  with  a  glance 
which,  had  he  possessed  the  soul  of  a  man,  would  have  made 
him  grasp  at  death  rather  than  deserve  a  second.  "  And 
hast  thou  escaped  me  again  ?  "  cried  Wallace ;  then  turning 
his  indignant  eyes  from  the  abject  earl  to  his  bleeding 


238  THE    SCOTTISH   CHIEFS. 

friend,  "I  yield  him  his  life,  Edwin,  and  you,  perhaps,  are 
slain  ?  " 

"  Forget  not  your  own  bright  principle  to  avenge  me/'  said 
Edwin,  as  brightly  smiling;  "he  has  only  wounded  me.  But 
you  are  safe,  and  I  hardly  feel  a  smart." 

Wallace  replaced  his  dagger  in  his  girdle.  "  Rise,  Lord  de 
Valence,  it  is  my  honor  not  my  will  that  grants  your  life. 
You  threw  away  your  arms.  I  cannot  strike  even  a  murderer 
who  bares  his  breast.  I  give  you  that  mercy  you  denied  tc 
nineteen  unoffending,  defenceless  old  men,  whose  hoary  head^ 
your  ruthless  axe  brought  with  blood  to  the  ground.  Let  mem- 
ory be  the  sword  I  have  withheld." 

While  he  spoke  De  Valence  had  risen,  and  stood  conscience- 
struck  before  the  majestic  mien  of  Wallace.  There  was  some^ 
thing  in  this  denunciation  that  sounded  like  the  irreversible 
decree  of  a  divinity,  and  the  condemned  wretch  quaked  beneath 
the  threat  while  he  panted  for  revenge. 

The  whole  of  the  survivors  in  De  Valence's  train  having 
surrendered  themselves  when  their  leader  fell,  in  a  few  min- 
utes Wallace  was  surrounded  by  his  chieftains  bringing  in  the 
colors  and  the  swords  of  their  prisoners. 

"  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay,"  said  he  to  a  brave  and  courteous 
knight  who,  with  his  kinsman,  William  Blair,  had  joined  him 
in  the  Lothians,  "  I  confide  Earl  de  Valence  to  your  care.  See 
that  he  is  strongly  guarded  and  has  every  respect,  according 
to  the  honor  of  him  to  whom  I  commit  this  charge." l 

The  town  was  now  in  possession  of  the  Scots,  and  Wallace 
having  set  off  the  rest  of  his  prisoners  to  safe  quarters,  reiter- 
ated his  persuasions  to  Edwin  to  leave  the  ground  and  submit 
his  wounds  to  the  surgeon.  "No,  no,"  replied  he;  "the  same 
hand  that  gave  me  this  inflicted  a  worse  on  my  general  at 
Dumbarton ;  he  kept  the  field  then,  and  shall  I  retire  now,  and 
disgrace  my  example  ?  No,  my  brother,  you  would  not  have 
me  so  disprove  my  kindred." 

"  Do  as  you  will,"  answered  Wallace,  with  a  grateful  smile, 
"  so  that  you  preserve  a  life  that  must  never  again  be  risked 
to  save  mine.  While  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  live,  my 
Almighty  Captain  will  shield  me ;  but  when  His  word  goes 
forth  that  I  shall  be  recalled,  it  will  not  be  in  the  power  of 
friendship  nor  of  hosts  to  turn  the  steel  from  my  breast. 

1  An  interesting  little  account,  but  too  long  for  a  marginal  note,  will  be  given  in  the 
Appendix  to  this  work,  relating  to  the  families  of  Ramsay  and  Blair,  eminently  loyal  to 
their  king  and  country  from  earliest  record  to  the  present  times,  and  to  one  of  whose 
ancestors  James  the  Fifth  of  Scotland  presented  a  splendid  memorial  of  such  their  last- 
ing character.  It  is  now  in  the  possession  of  Dr.  Jefferson,  of  Brighton,  whose  lady  ie 
descended  Irorn  this  honorable  Block.— (1840.) 


STIRLING.  239 

Therefore,  dearest  Edwin,  throw  not  yourself  away  in  defend- 
ing what  is  in  the  hands  of  Heaven,  to  be  lent  or  to  be  with- 
drawn at  will." 

Edwin  bowed  his  modest  head,  and  having  suffered  a  balsam 
to  be  poured  into  his  wound,  braced  his  brigandine  over  his 
breast,  and  was  again  at  the  side  of  his  friend,  just  as  he  had 
joined  Kirkpatrick  before  the  citadel.  The  gates  were  firmly 
closed,  and  the  dismayed  Cressingham  was  panting  behind 
its  walls  as  Wallace  commanded  the  parley  to  be  sounded. 
Afraid  of  trusting  himself  within  arrow-shot  of  an  enemy  who 
he  believed  conquered  by  witchcraft,  the  terrified  governor 
sent  his  lieutenant  upon  the  walls  to  answer  the  summons. 

The  herald  of  the  Scots  demanded  the  immediate  surrender 
of  the  place.  Cressingham  was  at  that  instant  informed  by  a 
messenger,  who  had  arrived  too  late  the  preceding  night  to 
be  allowed  to  disturb  his  slumbers,  that  De  Warenne  was 
approaching  with  an  immense  army.  Inflated  with  new  con- 
fidence, he  mounted  the  wall  himself,  and  in  haughty  language 
returned  for  answer,  "  that  he  would  fall  under  the  towers  of 
the  citadel  before  he  would  surrender  to  a  Scottish  rebel. 
And  as  an  example  of  the  fate  which  such  a  delinquent 
merits,"  continued  he,  "  I  will  change  the  milder  sentence 
passed  on  Lord  Mar,  and  immediately  hang  him  and  all  his 
family  on  these  ramparts  in  sight  of  your  insurgent  army." 

"  Then,"  cried  the  herald,  "  thus  says  Sir  William  Wallace : 
If  even  one  hair  on  the  heads  of  the  Earl  of  Mar  and  his 
family  fall  with  violence  to  the  ground,  every  Southron  soul 
who  has  this  day  surrendered  to  the  Scottish  arms  shall  lose 
his  head  by  the  axe." 

"  We  are  used  to  the  blood  of  traitors,"  cried  Cressingham, 
"  and  mind  not  its  scent.  But  the  army  of  Earl  de  Warenne 
is  at  hand ;  and  it  is  at  the  peril  of  all  your  necks  for  the 
rebel,  your  master,  to  put  his  threat  in  execution.  Withdraw, 
or  you  shall  see  the  dead  bodies  of  Donald  Mar  and  his  family 
fringing  these  battlements  ;  for  no  terms  do  we  keep  with  man, 
woman,  or  child  who  is  linked  with  treason." 

At  these  words  an  arrow  winged  from  a  hand  behind  Cressing- 
ham flew  directly  to  the  unvisored  face  of  Wallace ;  but  it  struck 
too  high,  and  ringing  against  his  helmet  fell  to  the  ground. 

^'Treachery!"  resounded  from  every  Scottish  lip,  while  in- 
dignant at  so  villanous  a  rupture  of  the  parley,  every  bow  was 
drawn  to  the  head,  and  a  flight  of  arrows,  armed  with  retribu- 
tions, flew  towards  the  battlements.  All  hands  were  now  at 
work  to  bring  the  towers  to  the  wall,  and  mounting  on  them. 


240  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

while  the  archers  by  their  rapid  showers  drove  the  men  from 
the  ramparts,  soldiers  below,  with  pickaxes,  dug  into  the  wall 
to  make  a  breach. 

Cressingham.  began  to  fear  that  his  boasted  auxiliaries  might 
arrive  too  late,  but  determining  to  gain  time  at  least,  he  shot 
flights  of  darts  and  large  stones  from  a  thousand  engines  ;  also 
discharged  burning  combustibles  over  the  ramparts,  in  hopes 
of  setting  fire  to  the  enemy's  attacking  machines. 

But  all  his  promptitude  proved  of  no  effect.  The  walls  were 
giving  way  in  parts,  and  Wallace  was  mounting  by  scaling-lad- 
ders and  clasping  the  parapets  with  bridges  from  his  towers. 
Driven  to  extremity,  Cressingham  resolved  to  try  the  attach- 
ment of  the  Scots  for  Lord  Mar,  and  even  at  the  moment  when 
their  chief  had  seized  the  barbican  and  outer  ballium,  this 
sanguinary  politician  ordered  the  imprisoned  earl  to  be  brought 
out  upon  the  wall  of  the  inner  ballia.  A  rope  was  round  his 
neck,  which  was  instantly  run  through  a  groove  that  projected 
from  the  nearest  tower. 

At  this  sight  horror  froze  the  ardent  blood  of  Wallace.  But 
the  intrepid  earl,  descrying  his  friend  on  the  ladder  which  might 
soon  carry  him  to  the  summit  of  the  battlement,  exclaimed, 
"  Forward  !  Let  not  my  span  of  life  stand  between  my  country 
and  this  glorious  day  for  Scotland's  freedom  ! " 

"Execute  the  sentence!"  cried  the  infuriate  Cressingham. 

At  these  words  Murray  and  Edwin  precipitated  themselves 
upon  the  ramparts  and  mowed  down  all  before  them  in  a  direc- 
tion towards  their  uncle.  The  lieutenant  who  held  the  cord, 
aware  of  the  impolicy  of  the  cruel  mandate,  hesitated  to  fulfil 
it ;  and  now  fearing  a  rescue  from  the  impetuous  Scots,  hurried 
his  victim  off  the  works  I  x?k  to  his  prison.  Meanwhile  Cres- 
singham, perceiving  that  a  1  would  be  lost  should  he  suffer  the 
enemy  to  gain  this  wall  also,  sent  such  numbers  upon  the  brave 
Scots,  who  had  followed  the  cousins,  that,  overcoming  some 
and  repelling  others,  they  threw  Murray  with  a  sudden  shock 
over  the  ramparts.  Edwin  was  surrounded,  and  his  successful 
adversaries  were  bearing  him  off,  struggling  and  bleeding,  when 
Wallace,  springing  like  a  lioness  on  hunters  carrying  away  her 
young,  rushed  in  singly  amongst  them.  He  seized  Edwin,  and 
while  his  falchion  flashed  terrible  threatenings  in  their  eyes, 
with  a  backward  step  he  fought  his  passage  to  one  of  the 
wooden  towers  he  had  fastened  to  the  wall. 

Cressingham,  being  wounded  in  the  head,  commanded  a  parley 
to  be  sounded. 

"  We  have  already   taken  Lord  de    Valence  and  his   host 


STIRLING.  241 

prisoners,"  returned  Wallace,  "  and  we  grant  you  no  cessation 
of  hostilities  till  you  deliver  up  the  Earl  of  Mar  and  his  family 
and  surrender  the  castle  into  our  hands." 

"Think  not,  proud  boaster,"  cried  the  herald  of  dressing* 
ham,  "  that  we  ask  a  parley  to  conciliate.  It  was  to  tell  you, 
that  if  you  do  not  draw  off  directly,  not  only  the  Earl  of  Mar 
and  his  family,  but  every  Scottish  prisoner  within  these  walls, 
shall  perish  in  your  sight." 

While  he  yet  spoke  the  Southrons  uttered  a  great  shout, 
and  the  Scots,  looking  up,  beheld  several  high  poles  erected  on 
:he  roof  of  the  keep,  and  the  Earl  of  Mar,  as  before,  was  led 
forward ;  but  he  seemed  no  longer  the  bold  and  tranquil  pa- 
triot. He  was  surrounded  by  shrieking  female  forms  clinging 
to  his  knees,  and  his  trembling  hands  were  lifted  to  heaven, 
as  if  imploring  its  pity. 

"  Stop ! "  cried  Wallace  in  a  voice  whose  thundering  man- 
date rung  from  tower  to  tower ;  "  the  instant  he  dies,  Lord 
Aymer  de  Valence  shall  perish  ! " 

He  had  only  to  make  the  sign,  and  in  a  few  minutes  that 
nobleman  appeared  between  Ramsay  and  Kirkpatrick.  "  Earl," 
exclaimed  Wallace,  "  though  I  granted  your  life  in  the  field 
with  reluctance,  yet  here  I  am  ashamed  to  put  it  in  danger ; 
but  your  own  people  compel  me.  Look  on  that  spectacle  !  A 
venerable  father  in  the  midst  of  his  family;  he  and  they 
doomed  to  an  ignominious  and  instant  death,  unless  I  betray 
my  country  and  abandon  these  walls.  Were  I  weak  enough 
to  purchase  their  lives  at  such  an  expense,  they  could  not  sur- 
vive that  disgrace ;  but  that  they  shall  not  die  while  I  have- 
power 'to  preserve  them,  is  my  resolve  and  my  duty.  Life, 
then,  for  life ;  yours  for  this  family." 

Wallace,  directing  his  voice  towards  the  keepi  "The 
moment,"  cried  he,  "  in  which  that  vile  cord  presses  too  closely 
on  the  neck  of  the  Earl  of  Mar,  or  on  any  of  his  blood,  the  axe 
shall  sever  the  head  of  Lord  de  Valence  from  his  body." 

De  Valence  was  now  seen  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  besieging 
towers.  He  was  pale  as  death.  He  trembled,  but  not  with 
dismay  only ;  ten  thousand  varying  emotions  tore  his  breast. 
To  be  thus  set  up  as  a  monument  of  his  own  defeat,  to  be 
threatened  with  execution  by  an  enemy  he  had  contemned,  to 
be  exposed  to  such  indignities  by  the  unthinking  ferocity  of  his 
colleague,  filled  him  with  such  contending  passions  of  revenge 
against  friends  and  foes,  that  he  forgot  the  present  fear  of 
death  in  turbulent  wishes  to  deprive  of  life  all  by  whom  he 
suffered. 

VOL.  I.  — 16 


242  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Cressingham  became  alarmed  on  seeing  the  retaliating  men 
ace  of  Wallace  brought  so  directly  before  his  view,  and  dread- 
ing the  vengance  of  De  Valence's  powerful  family,  he  ordered 
a  herald  tc  say  that  if  Wallace  would  draw  off  his  troops  to 
the  outer  ballium,  and  the  English  chief  along  with  them,  the 
Lord  Mar  and  his  family  should  be  taken  from  their  perilous 
situation,  and  he  would  consider  on  terms  of  surrender. 

Aware  that  Cressingham  only  wanted  to  gain  time  until 
De  Warenne  should  arrive,  Wallace  determined  to  foil  him 
with  his  own  weapons,  and  make  the  gaining  of  the  castle  the 
consequence  of  vanquishing  the  earl.  He  told  the  now  per- 
plexed governor  that  he  should  consider  Lord  de  Valence  as 
the  hostage  of  safety  for  Lord  Mar  and  his  family,  and  there- 
fore he  consented  to  withdraw  his  men  from  the  inner  ballium 
till  the  setting  of  the  sun,  at  which  hour  he  should  expect  a 
herald  with  the  surrender  of  the  fortress. 

Thinking  that  he  had  caught  the  Scottish  chief  in  a  snare, 
and  that  the  lord  warden's  army  would  be  upon  him  long 
before  the  expiration  of  the  armistice,  Cressingham  congratu- 
lated himself  upon  this  manoeuvre,  and,  resolving  that  the 
moment  Earl  de  Warenne  should  appear  Lord  Mar  should  be 
secretly  destroyed  in  the  dungeons,  he  ordered  him  to  their 
security  again. 

Wallace  fully  comprehended  what  were  his  enemy's  views, 
and  what  ought  to  be  his  own  measures,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the 
unhappy  group  disappear  from  the  battlements  of  the  keep. 
He  then  recalled  his  men  from  the  inner  ballium  wall,  and 
stationing  several  detachments  along  the  ramparts  and  in  the 
towers  of  the  outer  wall,  committed  De  Valence  to  the  strong- 
hold of  the  barbican,  under  the  especial  charge  of  Lord  Kuth- 
ven,  who  was  indeed  eager  to  hold  the  means  in  his  own  hand 
that  were  to  check  the  threatened  danger  of  relatives  so  dear 
to  him  as  were  the  prisoners  in  the  castle. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

CAMBUS-KENNETH. 

HAVING  secured  the  advantages  he  had  gained  in  the  town 
and  on  the  works  of  the  castle,  by  manning  all  the  strong  places, 
Wallace  set  forward  with  his  chosen  troops  to  intercept  De 
Warenne. 


CAMBUS-KENNETH.  243 

He  took  his  position  on  a  commanding  ground  about  half 
a  mile  from  Stirling,  near  to  the  abbey  of  Cambus-Kenneth. 
The  Forth  lay  before  him,  crossed  by  a  wooden  bridge,  over 
which  the  enemy  must  pass  to  reach  him,  the  river  not  being 
fordable  in  that  part. 

He  ordered  the  timbers  which  supported  the  bridge  to  be 
sawed  at  the  bottom,  but  not  displaced  in  the  least,  that  they 
might  stand  perfectly  firm  for  as  long  as  he  should  deem  it 
necessary.  To  these  timbers  were  fastened  strong  cords,  all  of 
which  he  intrusted  to  the  sturdiest  of  his  Lanark  men,  who 
were  to  lie  concealed  amongst  the  flags.  These  preparations 
being  made,  he  drew  up  his  troops  in  order  of  battle.  Kirk- 
patrick  and  Murray  commanded  the  flanks.  In  the  centre 
stood  Wallace  himself,  with  Ramsay  on  one  side  of  him,  and 
Edwin,  with  Scrymgeour,  on  the  other,  awaiting  with  steady 
expectation  the  approach  of  the  enemy,  who  by  this  time  could 
not  be  far  distant. 

Cressingham  was  not  less  well  informed  of  the  advance  of 
De  Warenne,  and  burning  with  revenge  against  Wallace,  and 
earnest  to  redeem  the  favor  of  De  Valence  by  some  act  in  his 
behalf,  he  first  gave  secret  orders  to  his  lieutenant,  then  set 
forth  alone  to  seek  an  avenue  of  escape  never  divulged  to  any 
but  the  commanders  of  the  fortress.  He  soon  discovered  it, 
and  by  the  light  of  a  torch,  making  his  way  through  a  passage 
bored  in  the  rock,  emerged  at  its  western  base,  screened  from 
sight  by  the  surrounded  bushes.  He  had  disguised  himself  in 
a  shepherd's  bonnet  and  plaid,  in  case  of  being  observed  by 
the  enemy;  but  fortune  favored  him,  and  unseen  he  crept 
along  through  the  thickets  till  he  descried  the  advance  of  De 
Warenne's  army  on  the  skirts  of  Tor  wood. 

Having  missed  Wallace  in  West  Lothian,  De  Warenne 
divided  his  army  into  three  divisions,  to  enter  Stirlingshire 
by  different  routes,  and  so,  he  hoped,  certainly  to  intercept 
'him  in  one  of  them.  The  Earl  of  Montgomery  led  the  first,  of 
twenty  thousand  men ;  the  Barons  Hilton  and  Blenkinsopp,  the 
second,  of  ten  thousand ;  and  De  Warenne  himself,  the  third, 
of  thirty  thousand. 

It  was  the  first  of  these  divisions  that  Cressingham  encoun- 
tered in  Tor  wood,  and  revealing  himself  to  Montgomery,  he 
recounted  how  rapidly  Wallace  had  gained  the  town,  and  in 
what  jeopardy  the  citadel  would  be  if  he  were  not  instantly 
attacked.  The  earl  advised  waiting  for  a  junction  with  Hilton 
or  the  lord  warden,  "  which,"  said  he,  "  must  happen  in  the 
course  of  a  few  hours." 


244  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"In  the  course  of  a  few  hours/'  returned  Cressingham,  "you 
will  ha've  no  Stirling  castle  to  defend.  The  enemy  will  seize 
it  at  sunset,  in  pursuance  of  the  very  agreement  by  which  I 
warded  him  off,  to  give  us  time  to  annihilate  him  before  that 
hour.  Therefore,  no  hesitation,  if  we  would  see  him  lock  the 
gates  of  the  north  of  Scotland  upon  us,  even  when  we  have  the 
power  to  hurl  him  to  perdition." 

By  arguments  such  as  these  the  young  earl  was  induced 
to  give  up  his  judgment,  and,  accompanied  by  Cressingham, 
whose  courage  revived  amid  such  a  host,  he  proceeded  to  the 
southern  bank  of  the  Forth. 

The  bands  of  Wallace  were  drawn  up  on  the  opposite  shore, 
hardly  five  thousand  strong,  but  so  disposed  the  enemy  could 
not  calculate  their  numbers,  though  the  narrowness  of  their 
front  suggested  to  Cressingham  that  they  could  not  be  numer- 
ous; and  he  recollected  that  many  must  have  been  left  to  oc- 
cupy the  outworks  of  the  town  and  the  citadel.  "  It  will  be 
easy  to  surround  the  rebel,"  cried  he  ;  "  and  that  we  may  effect 
our  enterprise  before  the  arrival  of  the  warden  robs  us  of  the 
honor,  let  us  about  it  directly  and  cross  the  bridge." 

Montgomery  proposed  a  herald  being  sent  to  inform  Wal- 
lace, that  besides  the  long  line  of  troops  he  saw,  De  Warenne 
was  advancing  with  double  hosts ;  and  if  he  would  now  sur- 
render, a  pardon  should  be  granted  to  him  and  his,  in  the 
king's  name,  for  all  their  late  rebellions.  Cressingham  was 
vehement  against  this  measure ;  but  Montgomery  being  reso- 
lute, the  messenger  was  despatched. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned  and  repeated  to  the  Southron 
commanders  the  words  of  Wallace :  "  Go,"  said  he,  "  tell 
your  masters  we  came  not  heTe  to  treat  for  a  pardon  of 
what  we  shall  never  allow  t(  be  an  offence ;  we  came  to 
assert  our  rights ;  to  set  Scotla.id  free.  Till  that  is  effected, 
all  negotiation  is  vain.  Let  them  advance,  they  will  find  us 
prepared." 

"  Then  onward ! "  cried  Montgomery ;  and,  spurring  his 
steed,  he  led  the  way  to  the  bri4ge ;  his  eager  soldiers  followed, 
and  the  whole  of  his  centre  ranks  passed  over.  The  flanks  ad- 
vanced ;  and  the  bridge,  from  end  to  end,  was  filled  with  arch- 
ers, cavalry,  men-at-arms,  and  war-carriages.  Cressingham,  in 
the  midst,  was  hallooing  in  proud  triumph  to  those  who  occu- 
pied the  rear  of  the  straining  beams,  when  the  blast  of  a  trum- 
pet sounded  from  the  till  now  silent  and  immovable  Scottish 
phalanx.  It  was  reechoed  by  shouts  from  behind  the  passing 
enemy;  and  in  that  moment  the  supporting  piers  of  the 


CAMBUS-KENNETH.  246 

bridge l  were  pulled  away,  and  the  whole  of  its  mailed  throng 
was  precipitated  into  the  stream. 

The  cries  of  the  maimed  and  the  drowning  were  joined  by 
the  terrific  slogan  of  two  bands  of  Scots.  The  one,  with  Wal- 
lace, towards  the  head  of  the  river ;  -v^hile  the  other,  under  the 
command  of  Sir  John  Graham,  rushed  from  its  ambuscade  on 
the  opposite  bank  upon  the  rear  of  the  dismayed  troops  ;  and 
both  divisions  sweeping  all  before  them,  drove  those  who 
fought  on  land  into  the  river,  and  those  who  had  just  escaped 
the  flood,  to  meet  its  waves  again,  a  bleeding  host. 

In  the  midst  of  this  conflict,  which  rather  seemed  a  carnage 
than  a  battle,  Kirkpatrick,  having  heard  the  proud  shouts  of 
Cressingham  on  the  bridge,  now  sought  him  amidst  its  shat- 
tered timbers.  With  the  ferocity  of  a  tiger  hunting  his  prey, 
he  ran  from  man  to  man;  and  as  the  struggling  wretches 
emerged  from  the  water,  he  plucked  them  from  the  surge ;  but 
even  while  his  glaring  eyeballs  and  uplifted  axe  threatened 
destruction,  he  only  looked  on  them,  and  with  imprecations  of 
disappointment,  rushed  forward  on  his  chase.  Almost  in  de- 
spair that  the  waves  had  cheated  his  revenge,  he  was  hurrying 
on  in  another  direction  when  he  perceived  a  body  moving 
through  a  hollow  on  his  right.  He  turned,  and  saw  the  object 
of  his  search  crawling  amongst  the  mud  and  sedges. 

"  Ha  ! "  cried  Kirkpatrick,  with  a  triumphant  yell,  "  art  thou 
yet  mine  ?  Damned,  damned  villain ! "  cried  he,  springing 
upon  his  breast ;  "  behold  the  man  you  dishonored  !  behold  the 
hot  cheek  your  dastard  hand  defiled  !  Thy  blood  shall  obliter- 
ate the  stain;  and  then  Kirkpatrick  may  again  front  the 
proudest  in  Scotland  !  " 

"  For  mercy  ! "  cried  the  horror-struck  Cressingham,  strug- 
gling with  preternatural  strength  to  extricate  himself. 

"  Hell  would  be  my  portion  did  I  grant  any  to  thee,"  cried 
Kirkpatrick,  and  with  one  stroke  of  his  axe  he  severed  the 
head  from  its  body.  "  I  am  a  man  again  !  "  shouted  he  as  he 
held  its  bleeding  veins  in  his  hand  and  placed  it  on  the  point 
of  his  sword.  "  Thou  ruthless  priest  of  Moloch  and  of  Mam- 
mon, thou  shalt  have  thine  own  blood  to  drink,  while  I  show 
my  general  how  proudly  I  am  avenged ! "  As  he  spoke  he 
dashed  amongst  the  victorious  ranks  and  reached  Wallace  at 
the  very  moment  he  was  freeing  himself  from  his  fallen  horse, 
which  a  random  arrow  had  shot  under  him.  Murray,  at  the 

1  This  historical  fact  relating  to  the  bridge  is  yet  exultingly  repeated  on  the  spot; 
and  the  number  of  the  Southrons  who  fell  beneath  the  arma  of  so  small  a  band  of  Scots 
is  not  less  the  theme  of  triumph.— (1809.') 


246  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

same  instant,  was  bringing  up  the  wounded  Montgomery,  who 
came  to  surrender  his  sword  and  to  beg  quarter  for  his  men. 
The  earl  turned  deadly  pale,  for  the  first  object  that  struck  his 
sight  was  the  fierce  Knight  of  Torthorald  walking  under  the 
stream  of  blood  which  continued  to  flow  from  the  ghastly  head 
of  Cressingham,  as  he  held  it  exultantly  in  the  air. 

"  If  that  be  your  chief,"  cried  Montgomery,  "  I  have  mis- 
taken him  much ;  I  cannot  yield  my  sword  to  him." 

Murray  understood  him.  "  If  cruelty  be  an  evil  spirit,"  re- 
turned he,  "  it  has  fled  every  breast  in  this  army,  to  shelter 
with  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  and  its  name  is  Legion.  That 
is  my  chief,"  added  he,  pointing  to  Wallace  with  an  evident 
consciousness  of  deriving  honor  from  his  command.  The  chief 
rose  from  the  ground,  dyed  in  the  same  ensanguined  hue  which 
had  excited  the  abhorrence  of  Montgomery,  though  it  had  been 
drawn  from  his  own  veins  and  those  of  his  horse.  All,  indeed, 
of  blood  about  him  seemed  to  be  on  his  garmerts  ;  none  was 
in  his  eyes,  none  in  his  heart  but  what  warmed  it  to  mercy  and 
to  benevolence  for  all  mankind.  His  eye  momentarily  fell  on 
the  approaching  figure  of  Kirkpatrick,  who,  waving  the  head 
in  the  air,  blew  from  his  bugle  the  triumphal  notes  of  the 
pryse,1  and  then  cried  to  his  chief,  "  I  have  slain  the  wolf  of 
Scotland.  My  brave  clansmen  are  now  casing  my  target  with 
his  skin,2  which,  when  I  strike  its  bossy  sides,  will  cry  aloud, 
'  So  perishes  thy  dishonor !  So  perish  all  the  enemies  of  Scot- 
land ! ' " 

"  And  with  the  extinction  of  that  breath,  Kirkpatrick,"  cried 
Wallace,  looking  sternly  from  the  head  to  him,  "  let  your  fell 
revenge  perish  also.  For  your  own  honor  commit  no  indignities 
on  the  body  you  have  slain." 

"JTis  for  you  to  conquer  like  a  god,"  cried  Kirkpatrick. 
"  I  have  felt  as  a  man,  and  like  a  man  I  revenge.  This  head 
shall  destroy  even  in  death ;  it  shall  vanquish  its  friends  for  me, 
for  I  will  wear  it  like  a  Gorgon  on  my  sword,  to  turn  to  stone 
every  Southron  who  looks  on  it."  While  speaking  he  disap- 
peared amongst  the  thickening  ranks,  and  as  the  victorious 
Scots  hailed  him  in  passing,  Montgomery,  thinking  of  his 
perishing  men,  suffered  Murray  to  lead  him  to  the  scene  of  his 
humility. 

The  ever-comprehensive  eye  of  Wallace  perceived  him  as  he 
advanced,  and  guessing  by  his  armor  and  dignified  demeanor 

1  The  pryse  were  the  notes  sounded  in  hunting  at  the  death  of  the  game. 

«  It  is  recorded  that  the  memory  of  Cressingham  was  so  odious  to  the  Scots  they  did 
indeed  flay  his  dead  body,  and  made  saddles  and  girths  and  other  things  of  his  ekin, 
-  (1809.) 


CAMBUS-KENNETH.  247 

who  he  was,  with  a  noble  grace  he  raised  his  helmed  bonnet  from 
his  head  when  the  earl  approached  him.  Montgomery  looked 
on  him ;  he  felt  his  soul,  even  more  than  his  arms,  subdued ; 
but  still  there  was  something  about  a  soldier's  heart  that  shrunk 
from  yielding  his  power  of  resistance.  The  blood  mounted 
into  his  before  pale  cheeks  ;  he  held  out  his  sword  in  silence  to 
the  victor,  for  he  could  not  bring  his  tongue  to  pronounce  the 
word  "  surrender." 

Wallace  understood  the  sign,  and  holding  up  his  hand  to  a 
iierald,  the  trumpet  of  peace  was  raised.  It  sounded ;  and 
where  the  moment  before  were  the  horrid  clash  of  arms,  the 
yell  of  savage  conquest,  and  direful  cries  for  mercy,  all  was 
hushed  as  death.  Not  that  death  which  has  past,  but  that 
which  is  approaching.  None  spoke ;  not  a  sound  was  heard  but 
the  low  groans  of  the  dying,  who  lay,  overwhelmed  and  perish- 
ing, beneath  the  bodies  of  the  slain  and  the  feet  of  the  living. 

The  voice  of  Wallace  rose  from  this  awful  pause.  Its  sound 
was  ever  the  harbinger  of  glory  or  of  "good-will  to  men." 
"  Soldiers  ! "  cried  he,  "  God  has  given  victory,  let  us  show 
our  gratitude  by  moderation  and  mercy.  Gather  the  wounded 
into  quarters  and  bury  the  dead." 

Wallace  then  turned  to  the  extended  sword  of  the  earl; 
he  put  it  gently  back  with  his  hand.  "  Ever  wear  what  you 
honor,"  said  he ;  "  but,  gallant  Montgomery,  when  you  draw 
it  next,  let  it  be  in  a  better  cause.  Learn,  brave  earl,  to  dis- 
criminate between  a  warrior's  glory  and  his  shame ;  between 
the  defender .  of  his  country  and  the  unprovoked  ravager  of 
other  lands." 

Montgomery  blushed  scarlet  at  these  words,  but  it  was  not 
with  resentment.  He  looked  down  for  a  moment.  "  Ah  !  " 
thought  he,  "  perhaps  I  ought  never  to  have  drawn  it  here." 
Then  raising  his  eyes  to  Wallace,  he  said,  "  Were  you  not  the 
enemy  of  my  king,  who,  though  a  conqueror,  sanctions  none  of 
the  cruelties  that  have  been  committed  in  his  name,  I  would 
give  you  my  hand  before  the  remnant  of  his  brave  troops  whose 
lives  you  grant.  But  you  have  my  heart,  —  a  heart  that  knows 
no  difference  between  friend  or  foe  when  the  bonds  of  virtue 
would  unite  what  only  civil  dissensions  hold  separate." 

"  Had  your  king  possessed  the  virtues  you  believe  he  does," 
replied  Wallace,  "  my  sword  might  have  now  been  a  pruning- 
hook.  But  that  is  past.  We  are  in  arms  for  injuries  received, 
and  to  drive  out  a  tyrant.  For,  believe  me,  noble  Montgomery, 
that  monarch  has  little  pretensions  to  virtue  who  suffers  the 
oppressors  of  his  people  or  of  his  conquests  to  go  unpunished. 


248  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

To  connive  at  cruelty  is  to  practise  it.  And  has  Edward  even 
frowned  on  one  of  those  despots  who  in  his  name  have  for 
these  two  years  past  laid  Scotland  in  blood  and  ashes  ? " 

The  appeal  was  too  strong  for  Montgomery  to  answer ;  he 
felt  its  truth,  and  bowed,  with  an  expression  in  his  face  that 
told  more  than  as  a  subject  of  England  he  dared  declare. 

The  late  expecting  silence  was  turned  into  the  clamorous 
activity  of  eager  obedience.  The  prisoners  were  conducted  tc 
the  rear  of  Stirling ;  while  the  major  part  of  the  Scots,  leav 
ing  a  detachment  to  unburden  the  earth  of  its  bleeding  load, 
returned  in  front  of  the  gates  just  as  De  Warenne's  division 
appeared  on  the  horizon  like  a  moving  cloud  gilded  by  the  now 
setting  sun.  At  this  sight  Wallace  sent  Edwin  into  the  town 
with  Lord  Montgomery,  and,  marshalling  his  line,  prepared  to 
bear  down  upon  the  approaching  earl. 

But  the  lord  warden  had  received  information  which  fought 
better  for  the  Scots  than  a  host  of  swords.  When  advanced  a 
very  little  onward  on  the  Carse  of  Stirling,  one  of  his  scouts 
brought  intelligence  that  having  approached  the  south  side  of 
the  Forth,  he  had  seen  that  river  floating  with  dead  bodies, 
and  soon  after  met  Southron  soldiers  in  full  flight,  while  he 
heard  from  afar  the  Scottish  horns  blowing  the  notes  of 
victory.  From  what  he  learned  from  the  fugitives,  he  also 
informed  his  lord  "that  not  only  the  town  and  citadel  of 
Stirling  were  in  the  possession  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  but 
the  two  detachments  under  Montgomery  and  Hilton  had  both 
been  discomfited  and  their  leaders  slain  or  taken." 

At  this  intelligence  Earl  de  Warenne  stood  aghast ;  and 
while  he  was  still  doubting  that  such  disgrace  to  King  Ed- 
ward's arms  could  be  possible,  two  or  three  fugitives  came  up 
and  witnessed  to  its  truth.  One  had  seen  Kirkpatrick  with 
the  bloody  head  of  the  Governor  of  Stirling  on  his  sword.  An- 
other had  been  near  Cressingham  in  the  wood  when  he  told 
Montgomery  of  the  capture  of  De  Valence,  and  concluding  that 
he  meant  the  leader  of  the  third  division,  he  corroborated  the 
scout's  information  of  the  two  defeats,  adding,  —  for  terror 
magnified  the  objects  of  fear,  —  that  the  Scots  army  was  in- 
calculable, but  was  so  disposed  by  Sir  William  Wallace  as  to 
appear  inconsiderable,  that  he  might  ensnare  his  enemies  by 
filling  them  with  hopes  of  an  easy  conquest. 

These  accounts  persuaded  De  Warenne  to  make  a  retreat, 
and,  intimidated  by  the  exaggerated  representations  of  them 
who  had  fled,  his  men,  with  no  little  precipitation,  turned  to 
obey. 


CAMBUS-KENNETH.  249 

Wallace  perceived  the  retrograde  motion  of  his  enemy's 
lines ;  and  while  a  stream  of  arrows  from  his  archers  poured 
upon  them  like  hail,  he  bore  down  upon  the  rear-guard  with 
his  cavalry  and  men-at-arms,  and  sent  Graham  round  by  the 
wood  to  surprise  the  flanks. 

All  was  executed  with  promptitude ;  and  the  tremendous 
slogan  sounding  from  side  to  side,  the  terrified  Southrons,  be- 
fore in  confusion,  now  threw  away  their  arms,  to  lighten  them- 
selves for  escape.  Sensible  that  it  is  not  the  number  of  the 
dead  but  the  terror  of  the  living  which  gives  the  finishing 
stroke  to  conquest,  De  Warenne  saw  the  effects  of  this  panic 
in  the  total  disregard  of  his  orders,  and  dreadful  would  have 
been  the  carnage  of  his  troops  had  he  not  sounded  a  parley. 

The  bugle  of  Wallace  instantly  answered  it.  De  Warenne 
sent  forward  his  herald.  He  offered  to  lay  down  his  arms 
provided  he  might  be  exempted  from  relinquishing  the  royal 
standard,  and  that  he  and  his  men  might  t>e  permitted  to  re- 
turn without  delay  into  England. 

Wallace  accepted  the  first  article,  granted  the  second,  but 
with  regard  to  the  third,  it  must  be  on  condition  that  he,  the 
Lord  de  Warenne,  and  the  officers  taken  in  his  army,  or  in 
other  engagements  lately  fought  in  Scotland,  should  be  imme- 
diately exchanged  for  the  like  number  of  noble  Scots  Wallace 
should  name  who  were  prisoners  in  England ;  and  that  the 
common  men  of  the  army,  now  about  to  surrender  their  arms, 
should  take  an  oath  never  to  serve  again  against  Scotland. 

These  preliminaries  being  agreed  to  (their  very  boldness  ar- 
guing the  conscious  advantage  which  seemed  to  compel  the 
assent),  the  Lord  Warden  advanced  at  the  head  of  his  thirty 
thousand  troops,  and  first  laying  down  his  sword,  which  Wal- 
lace immediately  returned  to  him,  the  officers  and  soldiers 
marched  by  with  their  heads  uncovered,  throwing  down  their 
weapons  as  they  approached  their  conqueror.  Wallace  ex- 
tended his  line  while  the  procession  moved,  for  he  had  too 
much  policy  to  show  his  enemies  that  thirty  thousand  men  had 
yielded  almost  without  a  blow  to  scarce  five  thousand.  The 
oath  was  afterwards  administered  to  each  regiment  by  her- 
alds sent  for  that  purpose  into  the  strath  of  Monteith,  whither 
Wallace  had  directed  the  captured  legions  to  assemble  and  re- 
fresh themselves  previous  to  their  departure  next  morning  for 
England.  The  privates  thus  disposed  of,  to  release  himself 
from  the  commanders  also,  Wallace  told  De  Warenne  that 
duty  called  him  away,  but  every  respect  would  be  paid  to  them 
by  the  Scottish  officers. 


250  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

He  then  gave  directions  to  Sir  Alexander  Eamsay  to  escort 
De  Warenne  and  the  rest  of  the  noble  prisoners  to  Stirling. 
Wallace  himself  turned  with  his  veteran  band  to  give  a  con- 
queror's greeting  to  the  Baron  of  Hilton  ;  and  so  ended  the 
famous  battles  of  Cambus-Kenneth  and  the  Garse  of  Stirling. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

STIRLING    CASTLE. 

THE  prisoners  which  had  been  taken  with  Montgomery  were 
lodged  behind  the  town  and  the  wounded  carried  into  the 
abbey  of  Cambus-Kenneth ;  but  when  Edwin  came  to  move 
that  earl  himself,  he  found  him  too  faint  with  loss  of  blood  to 
sit  a  horse  to  Snaw'doun.  He  therefore  ordered  a  litter,  and 
so  conveyed  his  brave  prisoner  to  that  palace  of  the  kings  of 
Scotland  in  Stirling. 

The  priests  in  Wallace's  army  not  only  exercised  the  Le- 
vitical  but  the  good  Samaritan's  functions ;  and  they  soon 
obeyed  the  young  knight's  summons  to  dress  the  wounds  of 
Montgomery. 

Messengers  meanwhile  arrived  from  Wallace  acquainting 
his  chieftains  in  Stirling  with  the  surrender  of  De  Warenne's 
army.  Hence  no  surprise  was  created  in  the  breast  of  the 
wounded  earl  when  he  saw  his  commander  enter  the  palace 
as  the  prisoner  of  the  illustrious  Scot. 

Montgomery  held  out  his  hand  to  the  lord  warden  in 
silence  and  with  a  flushed  cheek. 

"  Blush  not,  my  noble  friend,"  cried  De  Warenne  ;  "  these 
wounds  speak  more  eloquently  than  a  thousand  tongues  the 
gallantry  with  which  you  maintained  the  sword  that  fate  com- 
pelled you  to  surrender.  But  I,  without  a  scratch,  how  can  I 
meet  the  unconquered  Edward  ?  And  yet  it  was  not  for 
myself  I  feared ;  my  brave  and  confiding  soldiers  were  in  all 
my  thoughts ;  for  I  saw  it  was  not  to  meet  an  army  I  led  them, 
but  against  a  whirlwind,  a  storm  of  war,  with  which  no 
strength  that  I  commanded  could  contend." 

While  the  English  generals  thus  conversed,  Edwin's  im- 
patient heart  yearned  to  be  again  at  the  side  of  Wallace ; 
and  gladly  resigning  the  charge  of  his  noble  prisoner  to  Sir 
Alexander  Eamsay,  as  soon  as  he  observed  a  cessation  in  the 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  251 

conversation  of  the  two  earls,  he  drew  near  Montgomery  to 
take  his  leave.  , 

"  Farewell  till  we  meet  again/'  said  the  young  earl,  press- 
ing his  hand.  "  You  have  been  a  young  brother  rather  than 
an  enemy  to  me." 

"  Because,"  returned  Edwin,  "  I  follow  the  example  of  my 
general,  who  would  willingly  be  the  friend  of  all  mankind." 

Warenne  looked  at  him  with  surprise.  "  And  who  are  you 
who  in  that  stripling  form  utters  gallant  sentiments  which 
might  grace  the  maturest  years?" 

With  a  sweet  dignity  Edwin  replied :  "  I  am  Edwin  Ruth- 
ven,  the  adopted  brother  of  Sir  William  Wallace." 

"  And  the  son  of  him,"  asked  De  Warenne,  "  who,  with  Sir 
William  Walla.ce,  was  the  first  to  mount  Dumbarton  walls  ?  " 

At  these  words  the  cheeks  of  Edwin  were  suffused  with  a 
more  animated  bloom.  At  the  moment  when  his  courage  was 
distinguished  on  the  heights  of  Dumbarton,  by  the  vowed 
friendship  of  Wallace,  he  had  found  himself  beloved  by  the 
bravest  and  most  amiable  of  beings  ;  and  in  his  light  he  felt 
both  warmth  and  brightness.  But  this  question  of  De  Warenne 
conveyed  to  him  that  he  had  found  fame  himself ;  that-  he  was 
there  publicly  acknowledged  to  be  an  object  not  unworthy  of 
being  called  the  brother  of  Sir  William  Wallace ;  and,  cast- 
ing down  his  eyes,  beaming  with  exultation  from  the  fixed 
gaze  of  De  Warenne,  he  answered,  "  I  am  that  happy  Ruthven 
who  had  the  honor  to  mount  Dumbarton  rock  by  the  side  of 
my  general ;  and  from  his  hand  there  received  the  stroke  of 
knighthood." 

De  Warenne  rose  much  agitated.  "  If  such  be  the  boys  of 
Scotland,  need  we  wonder,  when  the  spirit  of  resistance  is 
roused  in  the  nation,  that  our  strength  should  wither  before 
its  men." 

"At  least,"  said  Montgomery,  whose  admiration  of  what 
passed  seemed  to  reanimate  his  languid  faculties,  "  it  deprives 
defeat  of  its  sting,  when  we  are  conscious  we  yielded  to  a 
power  that  was  irresistible.  But,  my  lord,"  added  he,  "if 
the  courage  of  this  youth  amazes  you,  what  will  you  say 
ought  to  be  the  fate  of  this  country  ?  what,  to  be  the  crown  of 
Sir  William  Wallace's  career  ?  when  you  know  the  chain  of 
brave  hearts  by  which  he  is  surrounded !  Even  tender  woman 
loses  the  weakness  of  her  sex  when  she  belongs  to  him." 
Earl  de  Warenne,  surprised  at  the  energy  with  which  he 
spoke,  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  that  told  him  so. 
"Yes,"  continued  he,  "I  witnessed  the  heroism  of  Lady 


252  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Wallace  when  she  defended  the  character  of  her  husband  in 
the  midst  of  an  armed  host,  and  preserved  the  secret  of  his 
retreat  inviolate.  I  saw  that  loveliest  of  women  whom  the 
dastard  Heselrigge  slew.'7 

"  Disgrace  to  knighthood ! "  cried  Edwin,  with  indignant 
vehemence.  "  If  you  were  spectator  of  that  bloody  deed,  retire 
from  this  house,  go  to  Cambus-Kenneth,  anywhere,  but  leave 
this  city  before  the  injured  Wallace  arrives;  blast  not  his 
eyes  with  a  second  sight  of  one  who  could  have  beheld  his 
wife  murdered." 

Every  eye  was  now  fixed  on  the  commanding  figure  of  the 
young  Edwin,  who  stood  with  the  determination  of  being 
obeyed  breathing  in  every  look.  De  Warenne  then  at  once 
saw  the  possibility  of  so  gentle  a  creature  being  transformed 
into  the  soul  of  enterprise,  into  the  fearless  and  effective 
soldier. 

Lord  Montgomery  held  out  his  hand  to  Edwin.  "By  this 
right  arm  I  swear,  noble  youth,  that  had  I  been  on  the  spot 
when  Heselrigge  lifted  his  sword  against  the  breast  of  Lady 
Wallace,  I  would  have  sheathed  my  sword  in  his.  It  was  be- 
fore then  that  I  saw  that  matchless  woman,  and,  offended  with 
my  want  of  severity  in  the  scrutiny  I  had  made  at  Ellerslie 
for  its  chief,  Heselrigge  sent  me  back  to  Ayr.  Arnulf  quar- 
relled with  me  there  on  the  same  subject,  and  I  immediately 
retired  in  disgust  to  England." 

"  Then  how  ?  you  ought  to  be  Sir  Gilbert  Hambledon  ?  "  re- 
plied Edwin ;  "  but  whoever  you  are,  as  you  were  kind  to 
Lady  Marion,  I  cannot  but  regret  my  late  hasty  charge,  and 
for  which  I  beseech  your  pardon." 

Montgomery  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it.  "  Generous 
Kuthven,  your  warmth  is  too  honorable  to  need  forgiveness. 
I  am  that  Sir  Gilbert  Hambledon,  and  had  I  remained  so,  I 
should  not  now  be  in  Scotland.  But  in  my  first  interview 
with  the  Prince  of  Wales,  after  my  accession  to  the  earldom  of 
Montgomery,  his  highness  told  me  it  had  been  rumored  from 
Scotland  that  I  was  disloyal  in  my  heart  to  my  king.  '  And, 
to  prove  the  falsehood  of  such  calumniators/  continued  the 
prince,  '  I  appoint  you  second  in  command  there  to  the  Earl 
de  Warenne/  To  have  refused  to  fight  against  Sir  William 
Wallace  would  have  been  to  have  accused  myself  of  treason. 
A.nd  while  I  respected  the  husband  of  the  murdered  Lady 
Marion,  I  yet  condemned  him  as  an  insurgent ;  and  with  the 
same  spirit  you  follow  him  to  the  field,  I  obeyed  the  commands 
of  my  sovereign." 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  253 

"  Lord  Montgomery,"  returned  Edwin,  "  I  am  rejoiced  to  see 
one  who  proves  to  me  what  my  general,  wronged  as  he  has 
been,  yet  always  inculcates,  that  all  the  Southrons  are  not  base 
and  cruel.  When  he  knows  who  is  indeed  his  prisoner,  what 
recollections  will  it  awaken  !  But  till  you  and  he  again  meet, 
I  shall  not  intimate  to  him  the  melancholy  satisfaction  he  is  to 
enjoy  ;  for  with  the  remembrances  it  will  arouse,  your  presence 
must  bring  the  antidote." 

The  brave  youth  then  telling  Kamsay  in  what  parts  of  the 
palace  the  rest  of  the  lords  were  to  be  lodged,  with  recovered 
composure  descended  to  the  court-yard,  to  take  horse  for  Tor 
wood.  He  was  galloping  along  under  the  bright  light  of  the 
moon  when  he  heard  a  squadron  on  full  speed  approaching, 
and  presently  Murray  appeared  at  its  head.  "  Hurrah, 
Edwin  ! "  cried  he,  "  well  met !  We  come  to  demand  the  in- 
stant surrender  of  the  citadel.  Hilton's  division  has  sur- 
rendered." 

The  two  barons  had  indeed  come  up  about  half  an  hour 
after  Earl  de  Warenne's  division  was  discomfited.  Sir  William 
Wallace  had  sent  forward  to  the  advancing  enemy  two  heralds, 
bearing  the  colors  of  De  Valence  and  Montgomery,  with  the 
captive  banner  of  De  Warenne,  and  requiring  the  present  divi- 
sion to  lay  down  its  arms  also.  The  sight  of  these  standards 
was  sufficient  to  assure  Hilton  there  was  no  deceit  in  the  em- 
bassy. The  nature  of  his  position  precluded  retreat,  and  not 
seeing  any  reason  for  ten  thousand  men  disputing  the  d-ay  with 
a  power  to  whom  fifty  thousand  had  just  surrendered,  he  and 
his  compeer,  with  the  reluctance  of  veterans,  embraced  the 
terms  of  surrender. 

The  instant  Hilton  put  his  argent  banner  *  into  the  victor's 
hand,  Wallace  knew  the  castle  must  now  be  his ;  he  had  dis- 
comfited all  who  could  have  maintained  it  against  him.  Im- 
patient to  apprise  Lord  Mar  and  his  family  of  their  safety,  he 
despatched  Murray  with  a  considerable  escort  to  demand  its 
surrender. 

Murray  gladly  obeyed,  and  now,  accompanied  by  Edwin,  with 
the  standards  of  Cressingham  and  De  Warenne  trailing  in  the 
dust,  he  arrived  before  the  castle  and  summoned  the  lieutenant 
to  the  walls.  But  that  officer,  well  aware  of  what  was  going 
to  happen,  feared  to  appear.  From  the  battlements  of  the 

1  The  arms  of  Hilton  are,  argent,  two  bars  azure.  The  charge  on  those  of  Blenkinsopp 
are  three  wheat-sheaves;  crest,  a  lion  rampant  grasping  a  rose.  The  ruins  of  the  patri- 
monial castles  of  these  twoancient  barons  are  still  to  be  seen  in'  the  north  of  England. 
The  author's  revered  mother  was  a  descendant  from  the  latter  venerable  name,  united 
with  that  of  the  brave  and  erudite  race  of  Adamsou,  of  farther  north.  —  (1840.) 


254  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

keep  he  had  seen  the  dreadful  conflict  on  the  banks  of  the 
Forth  ;  he  had  seen  the  thousands  of  De  Warenne  pass  before 
the  conqueror.  To  punish  his  treachery,  in  not  only  having 
suffered  Cressingham  to  steal  out  under  the  armistice,  but  up- 
holding also  the  breaking  of  his  word,  to  surrender  at  sunset, 
the  terrified  officer  believed  that  Wallace  was  now  come  to 
put  the  whole  garrison  to  the  sword. 

At  the  first  sight  of  Murray's  approaching  squadron  the 
lieutenant  hurried  to  Lord  Mar,  to  offer  him  immediate  liberty 
if  he  would  go  forth  to  Wallace  and  treat  with  him  to  spare 
the  lives  of  the  garrison.  Closed  up  in  a  solitary  dungeon,  the 
earl  knew  nought  of  what  was  occurring  without,  and  when 
the  Southron  entered,  he  expected  it  was  to  lead  him  again  to 
the  death  which  had  been  twice  averted.  But  the  pale  and 
trembling  lieutenant  had  no  sooner  spoken  the  first  word  than 
Mar  discerned  it  was  a  suppliant,  not  an  executioner,  he  saw 
before  him,  and  he  was  even  promising  that  clemency  from 
Wallace  which  he  knew  dwelt  in  his  heart,  when  Murray's 
trumpet  sounded. 

The  lieutenant  started,  horror-struck.  "It  is  now  too  late  ! 
We  have  not  made  the  first  overture,  and  there  sounds  the 
death-bell  of  this  garrison.  I  saved  your  life,  earl,"  cried  he, 
imploringly,  to  Lord  Mar.  "When  the  enraged  Cressingham 
commanded  me  to  pull  the  cord  which  would  have  launched 
you  into  eternity,  I  disobeyed  him.  For  my  sake,  then,  pre- 
serve this  garrison,  and  accompany  me  to  the  ramparts." 

The  chains  were  immediately  knocked  off  the  limbs  of  Mar, 
and  the  lieutenant  presenting  him  with  a  sword,  they  appeared 
together  on  the  battlements.  As  the  declining  moon  shone  on 
their  backs,  Murray  did  not  discern  that  it  was  his  uncle  who 
mounted  the  wall.  But  calling  to  him  in  a  voice  which  de- 
clared there  was  no  appeal,  pointed  to  the  humble  colors  of 
Edward,  and  demanded  the  instant  surrender  of  the  citadel. 

"  Let  it  be,  then,  with  the  pledge  of  Sir  William  Wallace's 
mercy  ?  "  cried  the  venerable  earl. 

"With  every  pledge,  Lord  Mar,"  returned  Murray,  now 
joyfully  recognizing  his  uncle,  "  which  you  think  safe  to 
give." 

"  Then  the  keys  of  the  citadel  are  yours,"  cried  the  lieuten- 
ant ;  "  I  only  ask  the  lives  of  my  garrison." 

This  was  granted,  and  immediate  preparations  were  made 
for  the  admission  of  the  Scots.  As  the  enraptured  Edwin 
heard  the  heavy  chains  of  the  portcullis  drawing  up,  and  the 
massy  bolts  of  the  huge  doors  grating  in  their  guards,  he 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  255 

thought  of  his  mother's  liberty,  of  his  father's  joy  in  pressing 
her  again  in  his  arms,  and  hastening  to  the  tower  where  Lord 
Ruthven  held  watch  over  the  now  sleeping  De  Valence,  he 
told  him  all  that  had  happened.  "  Go,  my  father,"  added  he ; 
"  enter  with  Murray,  and  be  the  first  to  open  the  prison  doors 
of  my  mother.'7 

Lord  Kuthven  embraced  his  son.  "My  dear  Edwin,  this 
sacrifice  to  my  feelings  is  worthy  of  you.  But  I  have  a  duty 
to  perform  superior  even  to  the  tenderest  private  ones.  I  am 
planted  here  by  my  commander,  and  shall  I  quit  my  station 
for  any  gratification  till  he  gives  me  leave  ?  No,  my  son  ;  be 
you  my  representative  to  your  mother,  and  while  my  example 
teaches  you  above  all  earthly  considerations  to  obey  your  honor, 
those  tender  embraces  will  show  her  what  I  sacrifice  to  duty." 

Edwin  no  longer  urged  his  father,  and  leaving  his  apart- 
ment flew  to  the  gate  of  the  inner  ballium.  It  was  open,  and 
Murray  already  stood  on  the  platform  before  the  keep,  re- 
ceiving the  keys  of  the  garrison. 

"  Blessed  sight ! "  cried  the  earl  to  his  nephew.  "  When  I 
put  the  banner  of  Mar  into  your  unpractised  hand,  little  could 
I  expect  that  in  the  course  of  four  months  I  should  see  my 
brave  Andrew  receive  the  keys  of  proud  Stirling  from  its 
commander." 

Murray  smiled,  while  his  plumed  head  bowed  gratefully  to 
his  uncle,  and,  turning  to  the  lieutenant,  "  Now,"  said  he, 
"  lead  me  to  the  Ladies  Mar  and  Ruthven,  that  I  may  assure 
them  they  are  free." 

The  gates  of  the  keep  were  now  unclosed,  and  the  lieuten- 
ant conducted  his  victors  along  a  gloomy  passage  to  a  low 
door  studded  with  knobs  of  iron.  As  he  drew  the  bolt,  he 
whispered  to  Lord  Mar,  "  These  severities  are  the  hard  policy 
of  Governor  Cressingham." 

He  pushed  the  door  slowly  open  and  discovered  a  small, 
miserable  cell,  its  walls  of  rugged  stone  having  no  other 
covering  than  the  incrustations  which  time  and  many  a  drip- 
ping winter  had  strewn  over  their  vaulted  surface.  On  the 
ground  on  a  pallet  of  straw  lay  a  female  figure  in  a  profound 
sleep.  But  the  light  which  the  lieutenant  held,  streaming  full 
upon  the  uncurtained  slumberer,  she  started,  and  with  a  shriek 
of  terror  at  sight  of  so  many  armed  men,  discovered  the 
pallid  features  of  the  Countess  of  Mar.  With  an  anguish 
which  hardly  the  freedom  he  was  going  to  bestow  could  ameli- 
orate, the  earl  rushed  forward,  and,  throwing  himself  beside 
her,  caught  her  in  his  arms. 


256  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"Are  we,  then,  to  die?"  cried  she,  in  a  voice  of  horror. 
u  Has  Wallace  abandoned  us  ?  Are  we  to  perish  ?  Heart- 
less, heartless  man ! " 

Overcome  by  his  emotions,  the  earl  could  only  strain  her 
to  his  breast  in  speechless  agitation.  Edwin  saw  a  picture 
of  his  mother's  sufferings  in  the  present  distraction  of  the 
countess,  and  he  felt  his  powers  of  utterance  locked  up;  but 
Lord  Andrew,  whose  ever-light  heart  was  gay  the  moment  he 
was  no  longer  unhappy,  jocosely  answered,  "My  fair  aunt, 
there  are  many  hearts  to  die  by  your  eyes  before  that  day, 
and,  meanwhile,  I  come  from  Sir  William  Wrallace  —  to  set 
you  free." 

The  name  of  Wallace,  and  the  intimation  he  had  sent  to  set 
her  free,  drove  every  former  thought  of  death  and  misery  from 
her  mind ;  again  the  ambrosial  gales  of  love  seemed  to  breathe 
around  her ;  she  saw  not  her  prison  walls ;  she  felt  herself 
again  in  his  presence,  and  in  a  blissful  trance  rather  endured 
than  participated  the  warm  congratulations  of  her  husband  on 
their  mutual  safety. 

Edwin  and  Murray  turned  to  follow  the  lieutenant,  who, 
preceding  them,  stopped  at  the  end  of  the  gallery.  "  Here," 
said  he,  "  is  Lady  Ruthven's  habitation,  and,  alas  !  not  better 
than  the  countess's."  While  he  spoke  he  threw  open  the 
door  and  discovered  its  sad  inmate,  also  asleep.  But  when  the 
glad  voice  of  her  son  pierced  her  ear,  when  his  fond  embraces 
clung  to  her  bosom,  her  surprise  and  emotions  were  almost  in- 
supportable. Hardly  crediting  her  senses,  that  he  whom  she 
had  believed  was  safe  in  the  cloisters  of  St.  Columba  could  be 
within  the  dangerous  walls  of  Stirling ;  that  it  was  his  mailed 
breast  that  pressed  against  her  bosom ;  that  it  was  his  voice 
she  heard  exclaiming,  "  Mother,  we  come  to  give  you  free- 
dom ! "  all  appeared  to  her  like  a  dream  of  madness. 

She  listened,  she  felt  him,  she  found  her  cheek  wet  with  his 
rapturous  tears.  "  Am  I  in  my  right  mind  ? "  cried  she, 
looking  at  him  with  a  fearful,  yet  overjoyed  countenance. 
"  Am  I  not  mad  ?  Oh  !  tell  me,"  cried  she,  turning  to  Murray 
and  the  lieutenant,  "  is  this  my  son  that  I  see,  or  has  terror 
turned  my  brain  ?  " 

"  It  is  indeed  your  son,  your  Edwin,  my  very  self,"  returned 
he,  alarmed  at  the  expression  of  her  voice  and  countenance. 
Murray  gently  advanced,  and,  kneeling  down  by  her,  respect- 
fully took  her  hand.  "  He  speaks  truth,  my  dear  madam.  It 
is  your  son  Edwin.  He  left  his  convent  to  be  a  volunteer 
with  Sir  William  Wallace.  He  covered  himself  with  hono* 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  257 

on  the  walls  of  Dumbarton,  and  here,  also,  a  sharer  in  his 
leader's  victories,  he  is  come  to  set  you  free." 

At  this  explanation,  which,  being  given  in  the  sober  lan- 
guage of  reason,  Lady  Ruthven  believed,  she  gave  way  to  the 
full  happiness  of  her  soul,  and  falling  on  the  neck  of  her  son, 
embraced  him  with  a  flood  of  tears.  "And  thy  father, 
Edwin,  where  is  he  ?  Did  not  the  noble  Wallace  rescue  him 
from  Ayr  ?  » 

''He  did,  and  he  is  here."  Edwin  then  repeated  to  his 
mother  the  affectionate  message  of  his  father  and  the  par- 
ticulars of  his  release.  Perceiving  how  happily  they  were 
engaged,  Murray,  now  with  a  flutter  in  his  own  bosom,  rose 
from  his  knees  and  requested  the  lieutenant  to  conduct  him 
to  Lady  Helen  Mar. 

His  guide  led  the  way  by  a  winding  staircase  into  a  stone 
gallery,  where,  letting  Lord  Andrew  into  a  spacious  apart- 
ment, divided  in  the  midst  by  a  vast  screen  of  carved  cedar- 
wood,  he  pointed  to  a  curtained  entrance.  "In  that 
chamber,"  said  he,  "  lodges  the  Lady  Helen." 

"  Ah,  my  poor  cousin !  "  exclaimed  Murray ;  "  though  she 
seems  not  to  have  tasted  the  hardships  of  her  parents,  she  has 
shared  their  misery,  I  do  not  doubt."  While  he  spoke  the  lieu- 
tenant bowed  in  silence,  and  Murray  entered  alone.  The 
chamber  was  magnificent,  and  illumined  by  a  lamp  which 
hung  from  the  ceiling.  He  cautiously  approached  the  bed, 
fearing  too  hastily  to  disturb  her,  and  gently  pulling  aside  the 
curtain,  beheld  vacancy.  *  An  exclamation  of  alarm  had  al- 
most escaped  him,  when,  observing  a  half-open  door  at  the 
other  side  of  the  apartment,  he  drew  towards  it,  and  there  be- 
held his  cousin,  with  her  back  to  him,  kneeling  before  a  cruci. 
fix.  She  spoke  not,  but  the  fervor  of  her  action  manifested 
how  earnestly  she  prayed.  He  moved  behind  her,  but  she 
heard  him  not ;  her  whole  soul  was  absorbed  in  the  success  of 
her  petition  ;  and  at  last,  raising  her  clasped  hands  in  a  parox- 
ysm of  emotion,  she  exclaimed,  "  If  that  trumpet  sounded  the 
victory  of  the  Scots,  then,  Power  of  Goodness  !  receive  thy 
servant's  thanks.  But  if  De  Warenne  have  conquered  where 
De  Valence  failed,  if  all  whom  I  love  be  lost  to  me  here,  take 
me  then  to  thyself,  and  let  my  freed  spirit  fly  to  their  em- 
braces in  heaven ! " 

"  Ay,  and  on  earth,  too,  thou  blessed  angel !  "  cried  Murray, 
throwing  himself  towards  her.  She  started  from  her  knees, 
and  with  such  a  cry  as  the  widow  of  Sarepta  uttered  when  she 
embraced  her  son  from  the  dead,  Helen  threw  herself  on  the 

VOL.  I.  — 17 


258  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

bosom  of  her  cousin  and  closed  her  eyes  in  a  blissful  swoon ; 
for,  even  while  every  outward  sense  seemed  fled,  the  impression 
of  joy  played  about  her  heart,  and  the  animated  throbbings  of 
Murray's  breast,  while  he  pressed  her  in  his  arms,  at  last 
aroused  her  to  recollection.  Her  glistening  and  uplifted  eyes 
told  all  the  happiness,  alL  the  gratitude  of  her  soul.  "My 
father  ?  All  are  safe  ? "  demanded  she.  "  All,  my  best  be- 
loved ! "  answered  Murray,  forgetting,  in  the  powerful  emo- 
tions of  his  heart,  that  what  he  felt,  and  what  he  uttered,  were 
beyond  even  a  cousin's  limits ;  "  my  uncle,  the  countess,  Lord 
and  Lady  Kuthven ;  all  are  safe." 

"  And  Sir  William  Wallace  ?  "  cried  she  ;  "  you  do  not  men- 
tion him.  I  hope  no  ill "  — 

"  He  is  conqueror  here,"  interrupted  Murray.  "  He  has  sub- 
dued every  obstacle  between  Berwick  and  Stirling,  and  he  has 
sent  me  hither  to  set  you  and  the  rest  of  the  dear  prisoners 
free." 

Helen's  heart  throbbed  with  a  new  tumult  as  he  spoke.  She 
longed  to  ask  whether  the  unknown  knight  from  whom  she 
had  parted  in  the  hermit's  cell  had  ever  joined  Sir  WTilliam 
Wallace.  She  yearned  to  know  that  he  yet  lived.  At  the 
thought  of  the  probability  of  his  having  fallen  in  some  of 
these  desperate  conflicts  her  soul  seemed  to  gasp  for  existence, 
and,  dropping  her  head  on  her  cousin's  shoulder,  "  Tell  me, 
Andrew"  —  said  she,  and  there  she  paused  with  an  emotion 
for  which  she  could  not  account  to  herself. 

"  Of  what  would  my  sweet  cousin*  inquire  ?  "  asked  Murray, 
partaking  her  agitation. 

"Nothing  particular,"  said  she,  covered  with  blushes  ;  "but 
did  you  fight  alone  in  these  battles  ?  Did  no  other  knight  but 
Sir  William  Wallace?" 

"Many,  dearest  Helen,"  returned  Murray,  enraptured  at  a 
solicitude  which  he  appropriated  to  himself.  "Many  knights 
joined  our  arms.  All  fought  in  a  manner  worthy  of  their 
leader ;  and,  thanks  to  Heaven,  none  have  fallen." 

u  Thanks,  indeed !  "  cried  Helen,  and,  with  a  hope  she  dared 
hardly  whisper  to  herself  of  seeing  the  unknown  knight  in  the 
gallant  train  of  the  conqueror,  she  falteringly  said,  "  Now, 
Andrew,  lead  me  to  my  father." 

Murray  would,  perhaps,  have  required  a  second  bidding  had 
not  Lord  Mar,  impatient  to  see  his  daughter,  appeared  with 
the  countess  at  the  door  of  the  apartment.  Hastening  towards 
them,  she  fell  on  the  bosom  of  her  father,  and  while  she 
bathed  his  face  and  hands  with  her  glad  tears,  he  too  wept 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  259 

and  mingled  blessings  with  his  caresses.  No  coldness  here 
met  his  paternal  heart;  no  distracting  confusions  tore  her 
from  his  arms ;  no  averted  looks,  by  turns,  alarmed  and  chilled 
the  bosom  of  tenderness.  All  was  innocence  and  duty  in 
Helen's  breast,  and  every  ingenuous  action  showed  its  affec- 
tion and  joy.  The  estranged  heart  of  Lady  Mar  had  closed 
against  him,  and  though  he  suspected  not  its  wanderings,  he 
felt  the  unutterable  difference  between  the  warm' transports  of 
his  daughter  and  the  frigid  gratulations  forced  from  the  lips  of 
his  wife. 

Lady  Mar  gazed  with  a  weird  frown  on  the  lovely  form  of 
Helen  as  she  wound  her  exquisitely  turned  arms  around  the 
earl  in  filial  tenderness.  Her  bosom,  heaving  in  the  snowy 
whiteness  of  virgin  purity,  her  face  radiant  with  the  softest 
blooms  of  youth,  all  seemed  to  frame  an  object  which  malig- 
nant fiends  had  conjured  up  to  blast  her  step-dame's  hopes. 
"  Wallace  will  behold  these  charms  ! "  cried  her  distracted 
spirit  to  herself,  "  and  then  where  ani  I  ?  " 

While  her  thoughts  thus  followed  each  other,  she  uncon- 
sciously darted  looks  on  Helen,  which,  if  an  evil  eye  had  any 
witching  power,  would  have  withered  all  her  beauties.  At  one 
of  these  portentous  moments  the  glad  eyes  of  Helen  met  her 
glance ;  she  started  with  horror.  It  made  her  remember  how 
she  had  been  betrayed,  and  all  that  she  had  suffered  from 
Soulis.  But  she  could  not  forget  that  she  had  also  been  res- 
cued, and  with  that  blessed  recollection,  the  image  of  her 
preserver  rose  before  her.  At  this  gentle  idea,  her  alarmed 
countenance  took  a  softer  expression,  and,  tenderly  sighing, 
she  turned  to  her  father's  question  of  "How  she  came  to  be 
with  Lady  Ruthven,  when  he  had  been  taught  by  Lord  An- 
drew to  believe  her  safe  at  St.  Milan's  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Murray,  throwing  himself  on  a  seat  beside  her, 
"  I  found  in  your  letter  to  Sir  William  Wallace  that  you  had 
been  betrayed  from  your  asylum  by  some  traitor  Scot,  and  but 
for  the  fulness  of  my  joy  at  our  present  meeting,  I  should  have 
inquired  the  name  of  the  villain." 

Lady  Mar  felt  a  deadly  sickness  at  her  heart  on  hearing 
that  Sir  William  Wallace  was  already  so  far  acquainted  with 
her  daughter  as  to  have  received  a  letter  from  her ;  and  in 
amazed  despair,  she  prepared  to  listen  to  what  she  expected 
would  bring  a  death-stroke  to  her  hopes.  They  had  met  —  but 
how  ?  where  ?  They  wro^e  to  each  other  !  Then  far  in- 
deed had  proceeded  that  communication  of  hearts  which  was 
now  the  aim  of  her  life  —  and  she  was  undone.  Helen  glanced 


260  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

at  the  face  of  Lady  Mar,  and  observing  its  changes,  regarded 
them  as  corroborations  of  her  having  been  the  betrayer.  "  If 
conscience  disturbs  you  thus,"  thought  Helen,  "let  it  rend 
your  heart,  and  perhaps  remorse  may  follow." 

As  the  tide  of  success  seemed  so  full  for  the  patriot  of  the 
Scots,  Helen  no  longer  feared  that  her  cousin  would  rashly  seek 
a  precarious  vengeance  on  the  traitor  Soulis,  when  he  might 
probably  soon  have  an  opportunity  of  making  it  certain  at  the 
head  of  an  army.  She  therefore  commenced  her  narrative 
from  the  time  of  Murray's  leaving  her  at  the  priory,  and 
continued  it  to  the  hour  in  which  she  had  met  her  father  a  pris- 
oner in  the  streets  of  Stirling.  As  she  proceeded,  the  indigna- 
tion of  the  earl  and  of  Murray  against  Soulis  became  vehement. 
The  nephew  was  full  of  immediate  personal  revenge.  But  the 
father,  with  arguments  similar  to  those  which  had  suggested 
themselves  to  his  daughter,  calmed  the  lover's  rage ;  for  Mur- 
ray now  felt  that  fire,  as  well  as  a  kinsman's,  and  reseated 
himself,  with  repressed  though  burning  resentment,  to  listen 
to  the  remainder  of  her  relation. 

The  quaking  conscience  of  Lady  Mar  did  indeed  vary  her 
cheeks  with  a  thousand  dyes,  when,  as  Helen  repeated  part  of 
her  conversation  with  Macgregor's  wife,  Murray  abruptly  said, 
"  Surely  that  woman  could  name  the  traitor  who  betrayed  us 
into  the  hands  of  our  enemies.  Did  she  not  hint  it  ?  " 

Helen  cast  down  her  eyes,  that  even  a  glance  might  not 
overwhelm  with  insupportable  shame  the  already  trembling 
countess.  Lady  Mar  saw  that  she  was  acquainted  with  her 
guilt ;  and  expecting  no  more  mercy  than  she  knew  she  would 
show  to  Helen  in  the  like  circumstances,  she  hastily  rose  from 
her  chair,  internally  vowing  vengeance  against  her  triumph- 
ant daughter  and  hatred  of  all  mankind.  But  Helen  thought 
she  might  have  so  erred,  from  a  wife's  alarm  for  the  safety  of 
the  husband  she  professed  to  dote  on ;  and  this  dutiful  daugh- 
ter determined  never  to  accuse  her. 

While  all  the  furies  raged  in  the  breast  of  the  guilty  woman 
Helen  simply  answered,  "  Lord  Soulis  would  be  weak,  as  he  is 
vile,  to  trust  a  secret  of  that  kind  with  a  servant ;  "  then  hur- 
ried on  to  the  relation  of  subsequent  events.  The  countess 
breathed  again ;  and,  almost  deceiving  herself  with  the  idea 
that  Helen  was  indeed  ignorant  of  her  treachery,  listened  with 
emotions  of  another  kind  when  she  heard  of  the  rescue  of  her 
daughter-in-law.  She  saw  Wallace  in  that  brave  act.  But  as 
Helen,  undesignedly  to  herself,  passed  over  the  parts  in  their 
conversation  which  had  most  interested  her,  and  never  named 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  261 

the  graces  of  his  person,  Lady  Mar  thought,  that  to  have 
viewed  Wallace  with  so  little  notice  would  have  been  impos- 
sible, and  therefore  was  glad  of  such  a  double  conviction  that 
he  and  her  daughter  had  never  met,  which  seemed  verified 
when  Helen  said  that  the  unknown  chief  had  promised  to  join 
his  arms  with  those  of  Wallace. 

Murray  had  observed  Helen  while  she  spoke  with  an  im- 
pression at  his  heart  that  made  it  pause.  Something  in  this 
interview  had  whispered  to  him  what  he  had  never  dreamt 
before,  that  she  was  dearer  to  him  than  fifty  thousand  cousins. 
And  while  the  blood  flushed  and  retreated  in  the  complexion 
of  Helen,  and  her  downcast  eyes  refused  to  show  what  was 
passing  there,  while  she  hastily  ran  over  the  circumstances  of 
her  acquaintance  with  the  stranger  knight,  Murray's  own  emo- 
tions declared  the  secret  of  hers,  and  wi4h  a  lip  as  pale  as  her 
own,  he  said,  "  But  where  is  this  brave  man  ?  He  cannot  have 
yet  joined  us ;  for  surely  he  would  have  told  Wallace  or  my- 
self that  he  came  from  you  ?  " 

"  I  warned  him  not  to  do  so,'7  replied  she,  "  for  fear  that 
your  indignation  against  my  enemies,  my  dear  cousin,  might 
have  precipitated  you  into  dangers  to  be  incurred  for  our 
country  only." 

"  Then  if  he  have  joined  us,"  replied  Murray,  rising  from  his 
seat,  "you  will  probably  soon  know  who  he  is.  To-morrow 
morning  Sir  William  Wallace  will  enter  the  citadel,  attended 
by  his  principal  knights  ;  and  in  that  gallant  company  you 
must  doubtless  discover  the  man  who  has  laid  such  obliga- 
tions on  us  all  by  your  preservation." 

Murray's  feelings  told  him  that  glad  should  he  be  if.  the 
utterance  of  that  obligation  would  repay  it. 

Helen  herself  knew  not  how  to  account  for  the  agitation 
which  shook  her  whenever  she  adverted  to  her  unknown  pre- 
server. At  the  time  of  the  hermit's  friend  (the  good  lay 
brother)  having  brought  her  to  Alloa,  when  she  explained 
to  Lady  Kuthven  the  cause  of  her  strange  arrival,  she  had 
then  told  her  story  with  composure  till  she  mentioned  her 
deliverer,  but  in  that  moment,  for  the  first  time  she  felt  a 
confusion  which  disordered  the  animation  with  which  she 
described  his  patriotism  and  his  bravery.  But  it  was  natural, 
she  thought,  that  gratitude  for  a  recent  benefit  should  make  her 
heart  beat  high.  It  was  something  like  the  enthusiasm  she 
had  felt  for  Wallace  on  the  rescue  of  her  father,  and  she  was 
satisfied.  But  when  a  few  days  of  quiet  at  Alloa  had  recov- 
ered her  health  from  the  shock  it  had  received  in  the  recent 


262  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

scenes,  and  she  proposed  to  her  aunt  to  send  some  trusty  mes- 
senger to  inform  the  imprisoned  earl  at  Dumbarton  of  her 
happy  refuge,  and  Lady  Ruthven,  in  return,  had  urged  the 
probability  that  the  messenger  would  be  intercepted,  and  so 
her  asylum  be  discovered,  saying,  "Let  it  alone  till  this 
knight  of  yours  by  performing  his  word  calls  you  to  declare 
his  honorable  deeds.  Till  then  Lord  Mar,  ignorant  of  your 
danger,  needs  no  assurance  of  your  safety." 

This  casual  reference  to  the  knight  had  then  made  the  tran- 
quillized heart  of  Helen  renew  its  throbbings,  and  turning  from 
her  aunt  with  an  acquiescing  reply,  she  retired  to  her  own 
apartment,  to  quell  the  unusual  and  painful  blushes  she  felt 
burning  on  her  cheeks.  Why  she  should  feel  thus  she  could 
not  account,  "  unless,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  I  fear  that  my 
suspicion  may  be  guessed  at,  and  should  my  words  or  looks 
betray  the  royal  Bruce  to  any  harm,  that  moment  of  undesigned 
ingratitude  would  be  the  last  of  my  life." 

This  explanation  seemed  ample  to  herself.  And  henceforth, 
avoiding  all  mention  of  her  preserver  in  her  conversations  with 
Lady  Ruthven,  she  had  confined  the  subject  to  her  own  breast, 
and,  thinking  that  she  thought  of  him  more  by  her  attention  to 
speak  of  him  less,  she  wondered  not  that  whenever  she  was 
alone  his  image  immediately  rose  in  her  mind,  his  voice 
seemed  to  sound  in  her  ears,  and  even  as  the  summer  air  wafted 
ibs  soft  fragrance  over  her  cheek,  she  would  turn  as  if  she  felt 
that  breath  which  had  so  gently  hushed  her  to  repose.  She 
would  then  start  and  sigh,  and  repeat  his  words  to  herself  ;  but 
all  was  serene  in  her  bosom.  For  it  seemed  as  if  the  contem- 
plation of  so  much  loveliness  of  soul  in  so  noble  a  form  soothed 
instead  of  agitated  her  heart.  "  What  a  king  will  he  be  ! " 
thought  she  ;  "with  what  transport  would*  the  virtuous  Wallace 
set  the  Scottish  crown  on  so  noble  a  brow  !  " 

Such  were  her  meditations  and  feelings  when  she  was 
brought  a  prisoner  to  Stirling.  And  when  she  heard  of  the 
victories  of  Wallace,  she  could  not  but  think  that  the  brave 
arm  of  her  knight  was  there,  and  that  he,  with  the  renowned 
champion  of  Scotland,  would  fly  on  the  receipt  of  her  letter,  to 
Stirling,  there  to  repeat  the  valiant  deeds  of  Dumbarton.  The 
first  blast  of  the  Scottish  trumpet  under  the  walls  found  her, 
as  she  had  said,  upon  her  knees,  and  kept  her  there;  for, 
hardly  with  any  intermission,  with  fast  and  prayer,  did  she 
kneel  before  the  altar  of  Heaven,  till  the  voice  of  Andrew 
Murray,  at  midnight,  called  her  to  freedom  and  to  happiness. 

Wallace,  and  perhaps  her  nameless  hero  with  him,  had  again 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  263 

conquered.  His  idea  dwelt  in  her  heart  and  faltered  on  her 
tongue ;  and  yet,  in  reciting  the  narrative  of  her  late  suffer- 
ings to  her  father,  when  she  came  to  the  mentioning  of  the 
stranger's  conduct  to  her,  with  an  apprehensive  embarrass- 
ment she  felt  her  growing  emotions  as  she  drew  near  the  sub- 
ject, and  hurrying  over  the  event,  she  could  only  excuse 
herself  for  such  new  perturbation  by  supposing  that  the  former 
treason  of  Lady  Mar  now  excited  her  alarm  with  fear  she 
should  fix  it  on  a  new  object.  Turning  cold  at  an  idea  so  preg- 
nant with  horror,  she  hastily  passed  from  the  agitated  theme 
to  speak  of  De  Valence,  and  the  respect  with  which  he  had 
treated  her  during  her  imprisonment.  His  courtesy  had  pro- 
fessed to  deny  nothing  to  her  wishes  except  her  personal 
liberty  and  any  conference  with  her  parents  or  aunt.  Her 
father's  life,  he  declared,  was  altogether  out  of  his  power  to 
grant.  He  might  suspend  the  sentence,  but  he  could  not 
abrogate  it. 

"  Yes,"  cried  the  earl,  "  though  false  and  inflexible,  I  must 
not  accuse  him  of  having  been  so  barbarous  in  his  tyranny  as 
Cressingham.  For  it  was  not  until  De  Valence  was  taken 
prisoner  that  Joanna  and  I  were  divided.  Till  then  we  were 
lodged  in  decent  apartments,  but  on  that  event  Cressingham 
tore  us  from  each  other  and  threw  us  into  different  dungeons. 
My  sister  Janet  I  never  saw  since  the  hour  we  were  separated 
in  the  street  of  Stirling  until  the  awful  moment  in  which  we 
met  on  the  roof  of  this  castle,  the  moment  when  I  expected  to 
behold  her  and  my  wife  die  before  my  eyes." 

Helen  now  learned  for  the  first  time  the  base  cruelties  which 
had  been  exercised  on  her  father  and  his  family  since  the 
capture  of  De  Valence.  She  had  been  exempted  from  sharing 
them  by  the  fears  of  Cressingham,  who,  knowing  that  the 
^English  earl  had  particular  views  with  regard  to  her,  durst  not 
risk  offending  him  by  outraging  one  whom  he  had  declared 
himself  determined  to  protect. 

During  part  of  this  conversation  Murray  withdrew,  to  bring 
Lady  Ruthven  and  her  son  to  share  the  general  joy  of  full 
domestic  reunion.  The  happy  Edwin  and  his  mother  having 
embraced  these  dear  relatives,  with  yet  more  tender  affections 
yearning  in  their  bosoms  accompanied  Murray  to  the  door  of 
the  barbican  which  contained  Lord  Baithven.  They  entered  on 
the  wings  of  conjugal  and  filial  love,  but  the  for  once  pensive 
Lord  Andrew,  with  a  slow  and  musing  step,  returned  into  the 
castle  to  see  that  all  was  safely  disposed  for  the  remainder  of 
the  night. 


264  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

CHAPTER   XXXV. 

f  STIRLING    CITADEL. 

AT  noon  next  day  Murray  received  a  message  from  Wallace 
desiring  him  to  acquaint  the  Earl  of  Mar  that  he  was  coining 
to  the  citadel  to  offer  the  palace  of  Snawdoun  to  the  ladies  of 
Mar,  and  to  request  the  earl  to  take  charge  of  the  illustrious 
prisoners  he  was  bringing  to  the  castle. 

Each  member  of  the  family  hastened  to  prepare  for  an  inter- 
view which  excited  different  expectations  in  each  different 
breast.  Lady  Mar,  well  satisfied  that  Helen  and  Wallace  had 
never  met,  and  clinging  to  the  vague  words  of  Murray,  that  he 
had  sent  to  give  her  liberty,  called  forth  every  art  of  the  tiring- 
room  to  embellish  her  still  tine  person.  Lady  Ruthven,  with  the 
respectable  eagerness  of  a  chaste  matron,  in  prospect  of  seeing 
the  man  who  had  so  often  been  the  preserver  of  her  brother, 
and  who  had  so  lately  delivered  her  husband  from  a  loathsome 
dungeon,  was  the  first  who  joined  the  earl  in  the  gallery. 
Lady  Mar  soon  after  entered  like  Juno  in  all  her  plumage  of 
majesty  and  beauty. 

But  the  trumpet  of  Wallace  had  sounded  in  the  gates  before 
the  trembling  Helen  could  leave  her  apartment.  It  was  the 
herald  of  his  approach,  and  she  sunk  breathless  into  a  seat. 
She  was  now  going  to  see  for  the  first  time  the  man  whose 
woes  she  had  so  often  wept,  the  man  who  had  incurred  them 
all  for  objects  dear  to  her.  He  whom  she  had  mourned  as  one 
stricken  in  sorrow,  and  feared  for  as  an  outlaw  doomed  to 
suffering  and  to  death,  was  now  to  appear  before  her,  not  in 
the  garb  of  woe,  which  excuses  the  sympathy  its  wearer  excites, 
but  arrayed  as  a  conqueror,  as  the  champion  of  Scotland, 
giving  laws  to  her  oppressors,  and  entering  in  triumph  over 
fields  of  their  slain. 

Awful  as  this  picture  was  to  the  timidity  of  her  gentle 
nature,  it  alone  did  not  occasion  that  inexpressible  sensation 
which  seemed  to  check  the  pulses  of  her  heart.  Was  she,  or 
was  she  not,  to  recognize  in  his  train  the  young  and  noble 
Bruce  ?  Was  she  to  be  assured  that  he  still  existed  ?  Or  by 
seeking  him  everywhere  in  vain,  be  ascertained  that  he,  who 
could  not  break  his  word,  had  perished  lonely  and  unknown  ? 

While  these  ideas  thronged  into  her  mind,  the  platform 
below  was  filling  with  the  triumphant  Scots,  and  her  door 


STIRLING    CITADEL.  265 

suddenly  opening,  Edwin  entered  in  delighted  haste.  "  Come, 
cousin,"  cried  he ;  "  Sir  William  Wallace  has  almost  finished 
his  business  in  the  great  hall.  He  has  made  my  uncle  governor 
of  this  place,  and  has  committed  nearly  a  thousand  prisoners 
of  rank  to  his  care.  If  you  be  not  expeditious,  you  will  allow 
him  to  enter  the  gallery  before  you." 

Hardly  observing  her  face  from  the  happy  emotions  which 
dazzled  his  own  eyes,  he  seized  her  hand  and  hurried  her  to 
the  gallery. 

Only  her  aunt  and  step-mother  were  as  yet  them  Lady 
Ruthven  sat  composedly  on  a  tapestried  bench,  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  company.  But  Lady  Mar  was  near  the  door, 
listening  impatiently  to  the  voices  beneath.  At  sight  of 
Helen  she  drew  back,  but  she  smiled  exultingly  when  she 
saw  that  all  the  splendor  of  beauty  she  had  so  lately  beheld 
and  dreaded  was  flown.  Her  unadorned  garments  gave  no 
particular  attraction  to  the  simple  lines  of  her  form,  the  efful- 
gence of  her  complexion  was  gone,  her  cheek  was  pale,  and  the 
tremulous  motion  of  her  step  deprived  her  of  the  elastic  grace 
which  was  usually  the  charm  of  her  nymph-like  figure. 

Triumph  now  sat  in  the  eyes  of  the  countess,  and  with  an 
air  of  authority  she  waved  Helen  to  take  a  seat  beside  Lady 
Ruthven.  But  Helen,  fearful  of  what  might  be  her  emotion 
when  the  train  should  enter,  had  just  placed  herself  behind 
her  aunt  when  the  steps  of  many  a  mailed  foot  sounded  upon 
the  oaken  floor  of  the  outward  gallery.  The  next  moment  the 
great  doors  of  the  huge  screen  opened,  and  a  crowd  of  knights 
in  armor  flashed  upon  her  eyes.  A  strange  dimness  over- 
spread her  faculties,  and  nothing  appeared  to  her  but  an  in- 
distinct throng  approaching.  She  would  have  given  worlds  to 
have  been  removed  from  the  spot,  but  was  unable  to  stir ;  and  on 
recovering  her  senses  she  beheld  Lady  Mar  (who,  exclaiming, 
"  Ever  my  preserver ! "  had  hastened  forward)  now  leaning  on 
the  bosom  of  one  of  the  chiefs ;  his  head  was  bent  as  if  answer- 
ing her  in  a  low  voice.  By  the  golden  locks  which  hung  down 
upon  the  jewelled  tresses  of  the  countess  and  obscured  his 
face,  she  judged  it  must  indeed  be  the  deliverer  of  her  father, 
the  knight  of  her  dream.  But  where  was  he  who  had  de- 
livered herself  from  a. worse  fate  than  death  ?  Where  was  the 
dweller  of  her  daily  thoughts,  the  bright  apparition  of  her 
unslumbering  pillow  ? 

Helen's  sight,  now  clearing  to  as  keen  a  vision  as  before  it 
had  been  dulled  and  indistinct,  with  a  timid  and  anxious  gaze 
glanced  from  face  to  face  of  the  chieftains  around ;  but  all  were 


266  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

strange.  Then  withdrawing  her  eyes  with  a  sad  conviction 
that  their  search  was  indeed  in  vain,  in  the  very  moment  of 
that  despair  they  were  arrested  by  a  glimpse  of  the  features 
of  Wallace.  He  had  raised  his  head,  he  shook  back  his  clus- 
tering hair,  and  her  secret  was  revealed.  In  that  god-like 
countenance  she  recognized  the  object  of  her  devoted  wishes, 
and  with  a  gasp  of  overwhelming  surprise  she  must  have 
fallen  from  her  seat  had  not  Lady  Ruthven,  hearing  a  sound 
like  the  sigh  of  death,  turned  round  and  caught  her  in  her 
arms,  T^he  cry  of  her  aunt  drew  every  eye  to  the  spot.  Wal- 
lace immediately  relinquished  the  countess  to  her  husband, 
and  moved  towards  the  beautiful  and  senseless  form  that  lay 
on  the  bosom  of  Lady  Ruthven.  The  earl  and  his  agitated 
wife  followed. 

"  What  ails  my  Helen  ?  "  asked  the  affectionate  father. 

"  I  know  not,"  replied  his  sister ;  "  she  sat  behind  me,  and  I 
knew  nothing  of  her  disorder  till  she  fell  as  you  see.'7 

Murray  instantly  supposed  that  she  had  discovered  the  un- 
known knight ;  and  looking  from  countenance  to  countenance 
amongst  the  train,  to  try  if  he  could  discern  the  envied  cause 
of  such  emotions,  he  read  in  no  face  an  answering  feeling 
with  that  of  Helen's ;  and  turning  awajr  from  his  unavailing 
scrutiny,  on  hearing  her  draw  a  deep  sigh,  his  eyes  fixed  them- 
selves on  her,  as  if  they  would  have  read  her  soul.  Wallace, 
who,  in  the  pale  form  before  him,  saw  not  only  the  woman 
whom  he  had  preserved  with  a  brother's  care,  but  the  compas- 
sionate saint  who  had  given  a  hallowed  grave  to  the  remains 
of  an  angel  pure  as  herself,  now  hung  over  her  with  an 
anxiety  so  eloquent  in  every  feature,  that  the  countess  would 
willingly  at  that  moment  have  stabbed  her  in  every  vein. 

Lady  Ruthven  had  sprinkled  her  niece  with  water,  and  so 
she  began  to  revive ;  Wallace  motioned  to  his  chieftains  to 
withdraw.  Her  eyes  opened  slowly ;  but  recollection  return- 
ing with  every  reawakened  sense,  she  dimly  perceived  a  press  of 
people  around  her,  and  fearful  of  again  encountering  that  face 
which  declared  the  Bruce  of  her  secret  meditations  and  the 
Wallace  of  her  declared  veneration  were  one,  she  buried  her 
blushes  in  the  bosom  of  her  father.  In  that  short  point  of 
time,  images  of  past,  present,  and  to  come  rushed  before  her, 
and  without  confessing  to  herself  why  she  thought  it  necessary 
to  make  the  vow,  her  soul  seemed  to  swear  on  the  sacred  altar 
of  a  parent's  heart  never  more  to  think  on  either  idea.  Sep- 
arate, it  was  sweet  to  muse  on  her  own  deliverer ;  it  was  de- 
lightful to  dwell  on  the  virtues  of  her  father's  preserver.  But 


STIRLING    CITADEL.  267 

when  she  saw  both  characters  blended  in  one,  her  feelings 
seemed  sacrilege,  and  she  wished  even  to  bury  her  gratitude 
where  no  eye  but  Heaven's  could  see  its  depth  and  fervor. 

Trembling  at  what  might  be  the  consequences  of  this  scene, 
Lady  Mar  determined  to  hint  to  Wallace  that  Helen  loved 
some  unknown  knight ;  and  bending  to  her  daughter,  said  in  a 
low  voice,  yet  loud  enough  for  him  to  hear,  "  Retire,  my  child ; 
you  will  be  better  in  your  own  room,  whether  pleasure  or  dis- 
appointment about  the  person  you  wished  to  discover  in  Sir 
William's  train  have  occasioned  these  emotions." 

Helen  recovered  herself  at  this  indelicate  remark,  and  rais- 
ing her  head  with  that  modest  dignity  which  only  belongs  to 
the  purest  mind,  gently  but  firmly  said,  "  I  obey  you,  madam ; 
and  he  whom  I  have  seen  will  be  too  generous  not  to  pardon 
the  effects  of  so  unexpected  a  weight  of  gratitude."  As  she 
spoke  her  turning  eye  met  the  fixed  gaze  of  Wallace.  His 
countenance  became  agitated,  and  dropping  on  his  knee  beside 
her,  "  Gracious  lady/'  cried  he,  "  mine  is  the  weight  of  grati- 
tude ;  but  it  is  dear  and  precious  to  me ;  a  debt  that  my  life 
will  not  be  able  to  repay.  I  was  ignorant  of  all  your  goodness 
when  we  parted  in  the  hermit's  cave.  But  the  spirit  of  an 
angel  like  yourself,  Lady  Helen,  will  whisper  to  you  all  her 
widowed  husband's  thanks."  He  pressed  her  hand  fervently 
between  his,  and,  rising,  left  the  room. 

Helen  looked  on  him  with  an  immovable  eye  in  which  the 
heroic  vow  of  her  soul  spoke  in  every  beam ;  but  as  he  arose, 
even  then  she  felt  its  frailty,  for  her  spirit  seemed  leaving  her, 
and  as  he  disappeared  from  the  door,  her  world  seemed  shut 
from  her  eyes.  Not  to  think  of  him  was  impossible ;  how  to 
think  of  him  was  in  her  own  power.  Her  heart  felt  as  if  sud- 
denly made  a  desert.  But  heroism  was  there.  She  had 
looked  upon  the  Heaven-dedicated  Wallace,  on  the  widowed 
mourner  of  Marion,  the  saint  and  the  hero,  the  being  of 
another  world,  and  as  such  she  would  regard  him,  tifl  in  the 
realms  of  purity  she  might  acknowledge  the  brother  of  her 
soul. 

A  sacred  inspiration  seemed  to  illuminate  her  features  and 
to  brace  with  the  vigor  of  immortality  those  limbs  which  before 
had  sunk  under  her.  She  forgot  she  was  still  of  earth,  while 
a  holy  love,  like  that  of  the  dove  in  Paradise,  sat  brooding  on 
her  heart. 

Lady  Mar  gazed  on  her  without  understanding  the  ethereal 
meaning  of  those  looks.  Judging  from  her  own  impassioned 
feelings,  she  could  only  resolve  the  resplendent  beauty  which 


268  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

shone  from  the  now  animated  face  and  form  of  Helen  into  the 
rapture  of  finding  herself  beloved.  Had  she  not  heard  Wal- 
lace declare  himself  to  be  the  unknown  knight  who  had  rescued 
Helen  ?  She  had  heard  him  devote  his  life  to  her,  and  was  not 
his  heart  included  in  that  dedication  ?  She  had  then  heard 
that  love  vowed  to  another  which  she  would  have  sacrificed  her 
soul  to  win. 

Murray,  too,  was  confounded,  but  his  reflections  were  far 
different  from  those  of  Lady  Mar.  He  saw  his  newly  self- 
discerned  passion  smothered  in  its  first  breath.  At  the  moment 
in  which  he  found  that  he  loved  his  cousin  above  all  of 
Woman's  mould,  an  unappealable  voice  in  his  bosom  bade  him 
crush  every  fond  desire.  That  heart,  which,  with  the  chaste 
transports  of  a  sister,  had  throbbed  so  entrancingly  against 
his,  was  then  another's ;  was  become  the  captive  of  Wallace's 
virtues  —  of  the  only  man  who  his  judgment  would  have  said 
deserves  Helen  Mar.  But  when  he  clasped  her  glowing 
beauties  in  his  arms  only  the  night  before,  his  enraptured  soul 
then  believed  that  the  tender  smile  he  saw  on  her  lips  was  meant 
as  the  sweet  earnest  of  the  happier  moment  when  he  might 
hold  her  there  forever.  That  dream  was  now  past.  "  Well, 
be  it  so !"  said  he  to  himself;  "if  this  too  daring  passion  must 
be  clipt  on  the  wing,  I  have  at  least  the  consolation  that  it 
soared  like  the  bird  of  Jove.  But,  loveliest  of  created  beings," 
thought  he,  looking  on  Helen  with  an  expression  which,  had 
she  met  it,  would  have  told  her  all  that  was  passing  in  his 
soul,  "if  I  am  not  to  be  thy  love,  I  will  be  thy  friend,  and  live 
for  thee  and  Wallace  ! " 

Believing- that  she  had  read  her  sentence  in  what  she  thought 
the  triumphant  glances  of  a  happy  passion,  Lady  Mar  turned 
from  her  daughter-in-law  with  such  a  hatred  kindling  in  her 
heart  she  durst  not  trust  her  eyes  to  the  inspection  of  the  by- 
standers. But  her  tongue  could  not  be  restrained  beyond  the 
moment  In  which  the  object  of  her  jealousy  left  the  room.  As 
the  door  closed  upon  Helen,  who  retired  leaning  on  the  arms 
of  her  aunt  and  Edwin,  the  countess  turned  to  her  lord ;  his 
eyes  were  looking  with  doting  fondness  towards  the  point 
where  she  withdrew.  This  sight  augmented  the  angry  tumults 
in  the  breast  of  his  wife,  and  with  a  bitter  smile,  she  said,  "  So, 
my  lord,  you  find  the  icy  bosom  of  your  Helen  can  be 
thawed !  " 

"  How  do  you  mean,  Joanna  ?  "  returned  the  earl,  doubting 
her  words  and  looks  ;  "  you  surely  cannot  blame  our  daughter 
for  being  sensible  of  gratitude." 


.       STIRLING    CITADEL.  269 

"  I  blame  all  young  women,"  replied  she,  "  who  give  them- 
•elves  airs  of  unnatural  coldness,  and  then,  when  the  proof 
comes,  behave  in  a  manner  so  extraordinary,  so  indelicately,  I 
must  say." 

"  My  Lady  Mar  ! "  ejaculated  the  earl  with  an  amazed  look, 
"  what  am  I  to  think  of  you  from  this  ?  How  has  my  daughter 
behaved  indelicately  ?  She  did  not  lay  her  head  on  Sir  Will- 
iam Wallace's  shoulder  and  weep  there  till  he  replaced  her 
on  her  natural  pillow  —  mine.  Have  a  care,  madam,  that  I 
do  not  see  more  in  this  spleen  than  would  be  honorable  to  you 
for  me  to  discover.''' 

Fearing  nothing  so  much  as  that  her  husband  should  really 
suspect  the  passion  which  possessed  her,  and  so  remove  her 
from  the  side  of  Wallace,  she  presently  recalled  her  former 
duplicity,  and  with  a  surprised  and  uncomprehending  air,  re- 
plied, "  I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean,  Donald."  Then 
turning  to  Lord  Ruthven,  who  stood  uneasily  viewing  this 
scene,  "How,"  cried  she,  "can  my  lord  discover  spleen  in  my 
maternal  anxiety  respecting  the  daughter  of  the  husband  I 
love  and  honor  above  all  the  earth  ?  But  men  do  not  properly 
estimate  female  reserve.  Any  woman  would  say  with  me 
that  to  faint  at  the  sight  of  Sir  William  Wallace  was  declar- 
ing an  emotion  not  to  be  revealed  before  so  large  a  company. ; 
a  something  from  which  men  might  not  draw  the  most  agree- 
able inferences." 

"  It  only  declared  surprise,  madam,"  cried  Murray,  —  "  the 
surprise  of  a  modest  and  ingenuous  mind  that  did  not  expect 
to  recognize  its  mountain  friend  in  the  person  of  the  protector 
of  Scotland." 

Lady  Mar  put  up  her  lip,  and  turning  to  the  still  silent  Lord 
Ruthven,  again  addressed  him.  "  Step-mothers,  my  lord," 
said  she,  "  have  hard  duties  to  perform ;  and  when  we  think 
we  fulfil  them  best,  our  suspicious  husband  comes  with  a  ma- 
gician's wand  and  turns  all  our  good  to  evil." 

"  Array  your  good  in  a  less  equivocal  garb,  my  dear  Joanna," 
answered  the  Earl  of  Mar,  rather  ashamed  of  the  hasty  words 
which  indeed  the  suspicion  of  a  moment  had  drawn  from  his 
lips ;  "  judge  my  child  by  her  usual  conduct,  not  by  an  acci- 
dental appearance  of  inconsistency,  and  I  shall  ever  be  grate- 
ful for  your  solicitude.  But  in  this  instance,  though  she  might 
betray  the  weakness  of  an  enfeebled  constitution,  it  was  cer- 
tainly not  the  frailty  of  a  love-sick  heart." 

"Judge  me  by  your  own  rule,  dear  Donald,"  cried  his  wife, 
blandishingly  kissing  his  forehead,  "  and  you  will  not  agaip 


270  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS.  . 

wither  the  mother  of  your  boy  with  such  a  look  as  I  just  now 
received." 

Glad  to  see  this  reconciliation,  Lord  Ruthven  made  a  sign 
to  Murray,  and  they  withdrew  together. 

Meanwhile  the  honest  earl,  surrendering  his  whole  heart  to 
the  wiles  of  his  wife,  poured  into  her  not  inattentive  ear  all 
his  wishes  for  Helen ;  all  the  hopes  to  which  her  late  meeting 
with  Wallace,  and  their  present  recognition,  had  given  birth. 
"  I  had  rather  have  that  man  my  son,"  said  he,  "  than  see  my 
beloved  daughter  placed  on  an  imperial  throne." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,"  thought  Lady  Mar ;  "  for  there  are 
many  emperors,  but  only  one  William  Wallace."  However, 
her  sentiments  she  confined  to  herself,  neither  assenting  nor 
dissenting,  but  answering  so  as  to  secure  the  confidence  by 
which  she  hoped  to  traverse  his  designs. 

According  to  the  inconsistency  of  the  wild  passion  that  pos- 
sessed her,  one  moment  she  saw  nothing  but  despair  before 
her,  and  in  the  next  it  seemed  impossible  that  Wallace  should 
in  heart  be  proof  against  her  tenderness  and  charms.  She  re- 
membered Murray's  words,  that  he  was  sent  to  set  her  free, 
and  that  recollection  reawakened  every  hope.  Sir  William 
had  placed  Lord  Mar  in  a  post  as  dangerous  as  honorable. 
Should  the  Southrons  return  in  any  force  into  Scotland,  Stir- 
ling must  be  one  of  the  first  places  they  would  attack.  The 
earl  was.  brave,  but  his  wounds  had  robbed  him  of  much  of 
his  martial  vigor ;  might  she  not  then  be  indeed  set  free  ? 
and  might  not  Wallace,  on  such  an  event,  mean  to  repay  her 
for  all  those  sighs  he  now  sought  to  repress  from  ideas  of  a 
virtue  which  she  could  admire  but  had  not  courage  to 
imitate  ? 

These  wicked  meditations  passed  even  at  the  side  of  her 
husband,  and  with  a  view  to  further  every  wish  of  her  intox- 
icated imagination,  she  determined  to  spare  no  exertion  to 
secure  the  support  of  her  own  family,  which,  when  agreeing 
in  one  point,  was  the  most  powerful  of  any  in  the  kingdom, 
Her  father,  the  Earl  of  Strathearn,  was  now  a  misanthropic 
recluse  in  the  Orkneys,  she  therefore  did  not  calculate  on  his 
assistance ;  but  she  resolved  on  requesting  Wallace  to  put  the 
names  of  her  cousins,  Athol  and  Badenoch,  into  the  exchange 
of  prisoners,  for  by  their  means  she  expected  to  accomplish 
all  she  hoped.  On  Mar's  probable  speedy  death  she  so  long 
thought  that  she  regarded  it  as  a  certainty,  and  so  pressed 
forward  to  the  fulfilment  of  her  love  and  ambition  with  as 
much  eagerness  as  if  he  were  already  in  his  grave. 


STIRLING    CITADEL.  271 

She  recollected  that  Wallace  had  not  this  time  thrown  her 
from  his  bosom,  when  in  the  transports  of  her  joy  she  cast 
herself  upon  it;  he  only  gently  whispered,  "Beware,  lady! 
there  are  present  who  may  think  my  services  too  richly 
paid."  With  these  words  he  had  relinquished  her  to  her  hus- 
band. But  in  them  she  saw  nothing  inimical  to  her  wishes ;. 
it  was  a  caution,  not  a  reproof,  and  had  not  his  warmer  ad- 
dress to  Helen  conjured  up  all  the  fiends  of  jealousy,  she 
would  have  been  perfectly  satisfied  with  these  grounds  of 
hope,  slippery  though  they  were,  like  the  sands  of  the  sea. 

Eager,  therefore,  to  break  away  from  Lord  Mar's  projects 
relating  to  his  daughter,  at  the  first  decent  opportunity  she 
said,  "We  will  consider  more  of  this,  Donald.  I  now  re- 
sign you  to  the  duties  of  your  office,  and  shall  pay  mine  to 
her  whose  interest  is  our  own." 

Lord  Mar  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  they  parted. 

Prior  to  Wallace's  visit  to  the  citadel,  which  was  to  be  at  an 
early  hour  the  same  morning,  a  list  of  the  noble  prisoners  was 
put  into  his  hand.  Edwin  pointed  to  the  name  of  Lord  Mont- 
gomery. "That,"  said  he,  "is  the  name  of  a  person  you 
already  esteem ;  but  how  will  you  regard  him  when  I  tell  you 
who  he  was  ?  " 

Wallace  turned  on  him  an  inquiring  look. 

"  You  have  often  spoken  to  me  of  Sir  Gilbert  Hamble- 
don  »  — 

"  And  this  is  he  ! "  interrupted  Wallace. 

Edwin  recounted  the  manner  of  the  earl  discovering  him- 
self, and  how  he  came  to  bear  that  title.  Wallace  listened  in 
silence,  and  when  his  young  friend  ended,  sighed  heavily.  "  I 
will  thank  him,"  was  all  he  said,  and  rising,  he  proceeded  to 
the  chamber  of  Montgomery.  Even  at  that  early  hour  it  was 
filled  with  his  officers,  come  to  inquire  after  their  late  com- 
mander's health.  Wallace  advanced  to  the  couch,  and  the 
Southrons  drew  back.  The  expression  in  his  countenance 
told  the  earl  that  he  now  knew  him. 

"  Noblest  of  Englishmen  !  "  cried  Wallace  in  a  low  voice, 
"  I  come  to  express  a  gratitude  to  you  as  lasting  as  the  memory 
of  the  action  which  gave  it  birth.  Your  generous  conduct  to 
all  that  was  dearest  to  me  on  earth  was  that  night  in  the 
garden  of  Ellerslie  witnessed  by  myself.  I  was  in  the  tree 
above  your  head,  and  nothing  but  a  conviction  that  I  should 
embarrass  the  honor  of  my  wife's  protector  could  at  that 
moment  have  prevented  my  springing  from  my  covert  and 
declaring  my  gratitude  on  the  spot. 


272  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  Receive  my  thanks  now,  inadequate  as  they  are  to  express 
vhat  I  feel.  But  you  offered  me  your  heart  on  th3  field  of 
Iambus-Kenneth.  I  will  take  that  as  a  generous  intimation 
how  I  may  best  acknowledge  my  debt.  Receive,  then,  my 
never-dying  friendship,  the  eternal  gratitude  of  my  immortal 
spirit." 

The  answer  of  Montgomery  could  not  but  refer  to  the  same 
subject,  and  by  presenting  the  tender  form  of  his  wife  and  her 
devoted  love  almost  visibly  again  before  her  widowed  hus- 
band, nearly  forced  open  the,  fountain  of  tears  which  he  had 
buried  deep  in  his  heart,  and  rising  suddenly  for  fear  his  emo- 
tions might  betray  themselves,  he  warmly  pressed  the  hand  of 
his  English  friend  and  left  the  room. 

In  the  course  of  the  same  day  the  Southron  nobles  were 
transported  into  the  citadel,  and  the  family  of  Mar  removed 
from  the  fortress,  to  take  up  their  residence  in  the  palace  of 
Snawdoun. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

THE    CARSE    OF    STIRLING. 

THE  fame  of  these  victories,  the  seizure  of  Stirling,  the  con- 
quest of  above  sixty  thousand  men,  and  the  lord  warden  with 
his  late  deputy  taken  prisoners, — all  spread  through  the 
country  on  the  wings  of  the  wind. 

Messengers  were  despatched  by  Wallace,  not  only  to  the 
nobles  who  had  already  declared  for  the  cause  by  sending  him 
their  armed  followers,  but  to  the  clans  who  yet  stood  irreso- 
lute. To  the  chiefs  who  had  taken  the  side  of  Edward  he 
sent  no  exhortation.  And  when  Lord  Kuthven  advised  him  to 
do  so,  "No,  my  lord,"  said  he;  "we  must  not  spread  a  snare 
under  our  feet.  If  these  men  could  be  affected  by  the  inter- 
est of  their  country,  and  as  they  had  the  power  to  befriend 
her,  they  would  not  have  colleagued  with  her  enemies.  They 
remember  her  happiness  under  the  rule  of  our  Alexanders  ; 
they  see  her  sufferings  beneath  the  sway  of  a  usurper ;  and 
if  they  can  know  these  things,  and  require  arguments  to  bring 
them  to  their  duty,  should  they  then  come  to  it,  it  would  not 
be  to  fulfil,  but  to  betray.  Ours,  my  dear  Lord  Ruthven,  is  a 
commission  from  Heaven.  The  truth  of  our  cause  is  God's 
own  signet,  and  is  so  clear  that  it  need  only  to  be  seen  to  be 


THE    CARSE    OF   STIRLING.  273 

acknowledged.  All  honest  minds  will  come  to  us  of  them- 
selves ;  and  those  who  are  not  so  had  better  be  avoided  than 
shown  the  way  by  which  treachery  may  affect  what  open 
violence  cannot  accomplish." 

This  reasoning,  drawn  from  the  experience  of  nature, 
neither  encumbered  by  the  subtilties  of  policy  nor  the 
sophistry  of  the  schools,  was  evident  to  every  honest  under- 
standing, and  decided  the  question. 

Lady  Mar,  unknown  to  any  one,  again  applied  to  her  fatal 
pen,  but  with  other  views  than  for  the  ruin  of  the  cause  or 
the  destruction  of  Wallace.  It  was  to  strengthen  his  hands 
with  the  power  of  all  her  kinsmen  ;  and  finally,  by  the  crown 
which  they  should  place  on  his  head,  exalt  her  to  the  dignity 
of  a  queen.  She  wrote  first  to  John  Cummin,  Earl  of  Buchan, 
enforcing  a  thousand  reasons  why  he  should  now  leave  a  sink- 
ing cause  and  join  the  rising  fortunes  of  his  country. 

"  You  see,"  said  she,  "  that  the  happy  star  of  Edward  is  set- 
ting. The  King  of  France  not  only  maintains  possession  of 
that  monarch's  territory  of  Guienne,  but  he  holds  him  in  check 
on  the  shores  of  Flanders.  Baffled  abroad,  an  insurrection 
awaits  him  at  home;  the  priesthood,  whom  he  has  robbed, 
cover  his  name  with  anathemas ;  the  nobles,  whom  he  has  in- 
sulted, trample  on  his  prerogative;  and  the  people,  whose 
privileges  he  has  invaded,  call  aloud  for  redress.  The  proud 
barons  of  England  are  ready  to  revolt ;  'and  the  Lords  Here- 
ford and  Norfolk  (those  two  earls  whom,  after  madly  threaten- 
ing to  hang,1  he  sought  to  bribe  to  their  allegiance  by  leaving 
them  in  the  full  powers  of  constable  and  marshal  of  Eng- 
land), they  are  now  conducting  themselves  with  such  domi- 
neering consequence,  that  even  the  Prince  of  Wales  submits  to 
their  directions  ;  and  the  throne  of  the  absent  tyrant  is  shaken 
to  its  centre. 

"  Sir  William  Wallace  has  rescued  Scotland  from  his  yoke. 
The  country  now  calls  for  her  ancient  lords,  those  who  made 
her  kings  and  supported  them.  •  Come,  then,  my  cousin  ! 
espouse  the  cause  of  right,  the  cause  that  is  in  power,  the 
cause  that  may  aggrandize  the  House  of  Cummin  with  still 
higher  dignities  than  any  with  which  it  has  hitherto  been 
blazoned." 

1  Edward  intended  to  send  out  forces  to  Guienne,  under  the  command  of  Humphrey, 
Earl  of  Hereford,  the  constable,  and  Roger,  Earl  of  Norfolk,  the  marshal,  of  England, 
when  these  two  powerful  nobles  refused  to  execute  his  commands.  A  violent  alterca- 
tion ensued,  and  the  king,  in  the  height  of  his  passion,  exclaimed  to  the  constable,  "  Sir 
Earl,  by  G iyou  shall  either  go  or  hang."  —  "  By  G ,  Sir  King,"  replied  Here- 
ford, "I  will  neither  go  nor  hang."  And  he  immediately  departed  with  the  marshal 
and  their  respective  trains. 

VOL.  I.  — 18 


274  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

With  these  arguments  and  with  others  more  adapted  to  his 
Belial  mind,  she  tried  to  bring  him  to  her  purpose  ;  to  awaken 
what  ambition  he  possessed,  and  to  entice  his  baser  passions 
by  offering  security  in  a  rescued  country,  to  the  indulgence  of 
senses  to  which  he  had  already  sacrificed  the  best  properties 
of  man.  She  despatched  her  letter  by  a  messenger  whom  she 
bribed  to  secrecy,  and  added  in  her  postscript  that  the  '•  answer 
she  should  hope  to  receive  would  be  an  offer  of  his  services  to 
Sir  William  Wallace." 

While  the  Countess  of  Mar  was  devising  her  plans  (for  the 
gaining  of  Lord  Buchan  was  only  a  perliminary  measure)  the 
despatches  of  Wallace  had  taken  effect.  Their  simple  details, 
and  the  voice  of  fame,  had  roused  a  general  spirit  throughout 
the  land,  and  in  the  course  of  a  very  short  time  after  the 
different  messengers  had  left  Stirling  the  plain  around  the  city 
was  covered  with  a  mixed  multitude.  All  Scotland  seemed 
pressing  to  throw  itself  at  the  feet  of  its  preserver.  A  large 
body  of  men  brought  from  Mar  by  Murray,  according  to  his 
uncle's  orders,  were  amongst  the  first  encamped  on  the  carse, 
and  that  part  of  Wallace's  own  particular  band  which  he  had 
left  at  Dumbarton  to  recover  of  their  wounds,  now,  under  the 
command  of  Stephen  Ireland,  rejoined  their  lord  at  Stirling. 

Neil  Campbell,  the  brave  Lord  of  Loch-awe,1  and  Lord  Both- 
well,  the  father  of  Lord  Andrew  Murray,  with  a  strong  ree'n- 
forcement,  arrived  from  Argyleshire.  The  chiefs  of  Ross, 
Dundas,  Gordon,  Lockhart,  Logan,  Elphinstone,  Scott,  Erskine, 
Lindsay,  Cameron,  and  of  almost  every  noble  family  in  Scot- 
land, sent  their  sons  at  the  head  of  detachments  from  their 
clans  to  swell  the  victorious  ranks  of  Sir  William  Wallace. 

When  this  patriotic  host  assembled  on  the  Carse  of  Stirling, 
every  inmate  of  the  city  who  had  not  duty  to  confine  him 
within  the  walls  turned  out  to  view  the  glorious  sight. 
Mounted  on  a  rising  ground,  they  saw  each  little  army,  and 
the  emblazoned  banners  of  all  the  chivalry  of  Scotland  float- 
ing afar  over  the  lengthened  ranks. 

At  this  moment  the  lines  which  guarded  the  outworks  of 
Stirling  opened  from  right  to  left  and  discovered  Wallace 
advancing  on  a  white  charger.  When  the  conqueror  of  Ed- 
ward's hosts  appeared,  the  deliverer  of  Scotland,  a  mighty 
shout  from  the  thousands  around  rent  the  skies  and  shook  the 
earth  on  which  they  stood. 

Wallace  raised  his  helmet  from  his  brow  as  by  an  instinctive 
motion  every  hand  bent  the  sword  or  banner  it  contained. 

1  This  true  Scot  was  the  noble  ancestor  of  the  present  ducal  family  of  Argyle. 


THE    CARSE    OF   STIRLING.  275 

"  He  comes  in  the  strength  of  David,"  cried  the  venerable 
Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  who  appeared  at  the  head  of  his  church's 
tenantry.  "  Scots,  behold  the  Lord's-  anointed  ! " 

The  exclamation  which  burst  like  inspiration  from  the  lips 
of  the  bishop  struck  to  every  heart.  "  Long  live  our  William 
the  Lion  !  our  Scottish  King  !  "  was  echoed  with  transport  by 
every  follower  on  the  ground,  and  while  the  reverberating 
heavens  seemed  to  ratify  the  voice  of  the  people,  the  lords 
themselves  (believing  that  he  who  won  had  the  best  right  to 
enjoy)  joined  in  the  glorious  cry.  Galloping  up  from  the 
front  of  their  ranks  they  threw  themselves  from  their  steeds, 
and  before  Wallace  could  recover  from  the  surprise  into  which 
this  unexpected  salutation  had  thrown  him,  Lord  Bothwell  and 
Lord  Loch-awe,  followed  by  the  rest,  had  bent  their  knees  and 
acknowledged  him  to  be  their  sovereign.  The  Bishop  of 
Dunkeld,  at  the  same  moment  drawing  from  his  breast  a  silver 
dove  of  sacred  oil,  poured  it  upon  the  unbonneted  head  of 
Wallace.  "  Thus,  0  king  ! "  cried  he,  "  do  I  consecrate  on 
earth  what  has  already  received  the  unction  of  Heaven." 

Wallace  at  this  action  was  awe-struck,  and,  raising  his  eyes 
to  that  Heaven,  his  soul  in  silence  breathed  its  unutterable  de- 
votion. Then  looking  on  the  bishop,  "  Holy  Father,"  said  he, 
"  this  unction  may  have  prepared  my  brows  for  a  crown  ;  but 
it  is  not  of  this  world,  and  Divine  Mercy  must  bestow  it.  Eise, 
lords ! "  and  as  he  spoke  he  flung  himself  off  his  horse,  and, 
taking  Lord  Bothwell  by  the  hand,  as  the  eldest  of  the  band, 
"  kneel  not  to  me,"  cried  he.  "  I  am  to  you  what  Gideon 1  was 
to  the  Israelites,  —  your  fellow-soldier.  I  cannot  assume  the 
sceptre  you  would  bestow,  for  He  who  rules  us  all  has  yet 
preserved  to  you  a  lawful  monarch.  Bruce  lives.  And  were 
he  extinct  the  blood-royal  flows  in  too  many  noble  veins  in 
Scotland  for  me  to  usurp  its  rights." 

"  The  rights  of  the  crown  lie  with  the  only  man  in  Scotland 
who  knows  how  to  defend  them,  else  reason  is  blind,  or  the 
nation  abandons  its  own  prerogative.  What  we  have  this  mo- 
ment vowed  is  not  to  be  forsworn.  Baliol  has  abdicated  our 
throne ;  the  Bruce  desert  it ;  all  our  nobles  slept  till  you 
awoke ;  and  shall  we  bow  to  men  who  may  follow,  but  will  not 
lead  ?  No,  bravest  Wallace,  from  the  moment  you  drew  the 
first  sword  for  Scotland  you  made  yourself  her  lawful  king." 

Wallace  turned  to  the  veteran  Lord  of  Loch-awe,  who  uttered 

i  "  Then  the  men  of  Israel  said  unto  Gideon,  Rule  thou  over  us,  both  thou,  and  thy 
son,  jind  thy  son's  son  also :  for  thou  hast  delivered  us  from  the  hand  of  Midian.  And 
Gideon  said  unto  them,  I  will  not  rule  over  you,  neither  shall  my  eon  rule  over  you: 
the  Lord  shall  rule  over  you."  —  Judges,  chap.  viii. 


276  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

this  with  a  blunt  determination  that  meant  to  say,  the  election 
which  had  passed  should  not  be  recalled.  "  I  made  myself  her 
champion,  to  fight  for  her  freedom,  not  my  own  aggrandize- 
ment. Were  I  to  accept  the  honor  with  which  this  too  grate- 
ful nation  would  repay  my  service,  I  should  not  bring  it  that 
peace  for  which  I  contend.  Struggling  for  liberty,  the  toils  of 
my  brave  countrymen  would  be  redoubled,  for  they  would 
have  to  maintain  the  rights  of  an  unallied  king  against  a 
host  of  enemies.  The  circumstance  of  a  man  from  the  private 
stations  of  life  being  elevated  to  such  dignity  would  be  felt  as 
an  insult  by  every  royal  house,  and  foes  and  friends  would  arm 
against  us.  On  these  grounds  of  policy  alone,  even  were  my 
heart  not  loyal  to  the  vows  of  my  ancestors,  I  should  repel  the 
mischief  you  would  bring  upon  yourselves  by  making  me  your 
king.  As  it  is,  my  conscience  as  well  as  my  judgment  compels 
me  to  reject  it.  As  your  general  I  may  serve  you  gloriously ; 
as  your  monarch,  in  spite  of  myself,  I  should  incur  your  ulti- 
mate destruction." 

"  From  whom,  noblest  of  Scots  ?  "  asked  the  Lord  of  Both- 
well. 

"  From  yourselves,  my  friends,"  answered  Wallace,  with  a 
gentle  smile.  "  Could  I  take  advantage  of  the  generous  en- 
thusiasm of  a  grateful  nation  ;  could  I  forget  the  duty  I  owe 
to  the  blood  of  our  Alexanders,  and  leap  into  the  throne,— 
there  are  many  who  would  soon  revolt  against  their  own  elec- 
tion. You  cannot  be  ignorant  that  there  are  natures  who 
would  endure  no  rule  did  it  not  come  by  the  right  of  inherit- 
ance, —  a  right  by  which  they  hold  their  own  preeminence ;  and 
therefore  will  not  dispute,  lest  they  teach  their  inferiors  the 
same  refractory  lesson.  But  to  bend  with  voluntary  subjec- 
tion, long  to  obey  a  power  raised  by  themselves,  would  be  a 
sacrifice  abhorrent  to  their  pride.  After  having  displayed 
their  efficiency  in  making  a  king,  they  would  prove  their  in- 
dependence by  striving  to  pull  him  down  the  moment  he  made 
them  feel  his  sceptre. 

"  Such  would  be  the  fate  of  this  election.  Jealousies  and 
rebellions  would  mark  my  reign,  till  even  my  closest  adher- 
ents, seeing  the  miseries  of  civil  war,  would  fall  from  my 
side  and  leave  the  country  again  open  to  the  inroads  of  her 
enemies. 

"  These,  my  friends  and  countrymen,  would  be  my  reasons 
for  rejecting  the  crown  did  my  ambition  point  that  way.  But 
as  I  have  no  joys  in  titles,  no  pleasure  in  any  power  that  does 
not  spring  hourly  from  the  heart,  let  my  reign  be  in  your 


THE    CARSE    OF   STIRLING.  277 

bosoms  ;  and  with  the  appellation  of  your  fellow-soldier,  your 
friend,  I  will  fight  for  you,  I  will  conquer  for  you — I  will 
live  or  die  !  " 

"  This  man,"  whispered  Lord  Buchan,  who,  having  arrived 
in  the  rear  of  the  troops  on  the  appearance  of  Wallace,  ad- 
vanced within  hearing  of  what  he  said,  —  "  this  man  shows 
more  cunning  in  repulsing  a  crown  than  most  are  capable  of 
exerting  to  obtain  one." 

"  Ay,  but  let  us  see,"  returned  the  Earl  of  March,  who  ac- 
companied him,  "  whether  it  be  not  Caesar's  coyness ;  he  thrice 
refused  the  purple,  and  yet  he  died  Emperor  of  the  Eomans.  " 

"  He  that  offers  me  a  crown,"  returned  Buchan,  "  shall 
never  catch  me  playing  the  coquet  with  its  charms.  I  war- 
rant you,  I  would  embrace  the  lovely  mischief  in  the  first  pres- 
entation." A  shout  rent  the  air.  "  What  is  that  ?  "  cried  he, 
interrupting  himself. 

"He  has  followed  your  advice,"  answered  March,  with  a 
satirical  smile ;  "  it  is  the  preliminary  trumpet  to  i  Long  live 
King  William  the  Great!" 

Lord  Buchan  spurred  forward  to  Scrymgeour,  whom  he  knew, 
and  inquired  "  where  the  new  king  was  to  be  crowned  ?  We 
have  not  yet  to  thank  him  for  the  possession  of  Scone." 

""True,"  cried  Sir  Alexander,  comprehending  the  sarcasm; 
"  but  did  Sir  William  Wallace  accept  the  prayers  of  Scotland, 
neither  Scone,  nor  any  other  spot  in  the  kingdom,  should  re- 
fuse the  place  of  his  coronation." 

"  Not  accept  them  !  "  replied  Buchan ;  "  then  why  that  shout  ? 
Do  the  changelings  rejoice  in  being  refused  ?  " 

"  When  we  cannot  gain  the  altitude  of  our  desires,"  re- 
turned the  knight,  "  it  is  yet  subject  of  thankfulness  when  we 
reach  a  step  towards  it.  Sir  William  Wallace  has  consented 
to  be  considered  as  the  Protector  of  the  kingdom,  to  hold  it 
for  the  rightful  sovereign,  under  the  name  of  Regent." 

"  Ay,"  cried  March,  "  he  has  only  taken  a  mistress  instead 
of  a  wife ;  and  trust  me,  when  once  he  has  got  her  into  his 
arms,  it  will  not  be  all  the  graybeards  in  Scotland  that  can 
wrest  her  thence  again.  I  marvel  to  see  how  men  can  be 
cajoled,  and  call  the  vizard  "virtue." 

Scrymgeour  had  not  waited  for  this  reply  of  the  insolent 
earl,  and  Buchan  answered  him.  "I  care  not,"  said  he;  "  who- 
ever keeps  my  castle  over  my  head,  and  my  cellars  full,  is  wel- 
come to  reign  over  John  of  Buchan.  So, -on ward,  my  gallant 
Cospatrick,  to  make  our  bow  to  royalty  in  masquerade." 

When  these  scorners  approached  they  found  Wallace  stand- 


278  THE    SCOTTISPI    CHIEFS. 

ing  uncovered  in  the  midst  of  his  happy  nobles.  There  was 
not  a  man  present  to  whom  he  had  not  given  proofs  of  his  di- 
vine commission ;  each  individual  was  snatched  from  a  state 
of  oppression  and  disgrace  and  placed  in  security  and  honor. 
With  overflowing  gratitude,  they  all  thronged  around  him,  and 
the  young,  the  isolated  Wallace,  found  a  nation  waiting  on  his 
nod ;  the  hearts  of  half  a  million  of  people  offered  to  his 
hand,  to  turn  and  wind  them  as  he  pleased.  No  crown  sat  on 
his  brows  ;  but  the  bright  halo  of  true  glory  beamed  from  his 
god-like  countenance.  It  even  checked  the  arrogant  smiles 
with  which  the  haughty  March  and  the  voluptuous  Buchan 
came  forward  to  mock  him  with  their  homage. 

As  the  near  relations  of  Lady  Mar,  he  received  them  with 
courtesy;  but  one  glance  of  his  eye  penetrated  to  the  hollow- 
ness  of  both,  and  then  remounting  his  steed,  the  stirrups  of 
which  were  held  by  Edwin  and  Ker,  he  touched  the  head  of 
the  former  with  his  hand.  "  Follow  me,  my  friend ;  I  now  go 
to  pay  my  duty  to  your  mother.  For  you,  my  lords,"  said  he, 
turning  to  the  nobles  around,  "  I  shall  hope  to  meet  you  at 
noon  in  the  citadel,  where  we  must  consult  together  on  further 
prompt  movements.  Nothing  with  us  can  be  considered  as 
won  till  all  is  gained.'7 

The  chieftains,  with  bows,  acquiesced  in  his  mandate,  and 
fell  back  towards  their  troops.  But  the  foremost  ranks  of 
those  brave  fellows,  having  heard  much  of  what  had  passed, 
were  so  inflamed  with  admiration  of  their  Regent  that  they 
rushed  forward,  and  collecting  in  crowds  around  his  horse 
and  in  his  path,  some  pressed  to  kiss  his  hand,  and  others  his 
garments,  while  the  rest  ran  in  his  way,  shouting  and  calling 
down  blessings  upon  him,  till  he  stopped  at  the  gate  of 
Snawdoun.1 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

SNAWDOUN  PALACE. 

OWING  to  the  multiplicity  of  affairs  which  engaged  Wal- 
lace's attention  after  the  capture  of  Stirling,  the  ladies  of  Mar 
had  not  seen  him  since  his  first  visit  to  the  citadel.  The 
countess  passed  this  time  in  writing  her  despatches  to  the 
numerous  lords  of  her  house,  both  in  Scotland  and  in  Eng- 

i  This  scene  between  Wallace  and  his  chiefs  has  lately  been  pointed  out  to  the 
.Author  as  the  part  most  likely  to  have  incurred  the  censure  and  interdiction  of  the 
Emperor  Napoleon.  —  (1840.) 


SNAWDOUN   PALACE.  279 

land,  and  by  her  subtile  arguments  she  completely  persuaded 
her  husband  of  the  cogency  of  putting  the  names  of  Lord 
Athol  and  Lord  Badenoch  into  the  list  of  noble  prisoners  he 
should  request. 

When  this  was  proposed  to  Wallace  he  recollected  the  con- 
duct of  Athol  at  Montrose;  and  being  alone  with  Lord  Mar, 
he  made  some  objections  against  inviting  him  back  into  the 
country.  But  the  earl,  who  was  prepared  by  his  wife  to  over- 
come every  obstacle  in  the  way  of  her  kinsman's  return,  an- 
swered "  that  he  believed  from  the  representations  he  had 
received  of  the  private  opinions  both  of  Badenoch  and  Athol, 
that  their  treason  was  more  against  Baliol  than  the  kingdom, 
and  that  now  that  prince  was  irretrievably  removed,  he  under- 
stood they  would  be  glad  to  take  a  part  in  its  recovery." 

"That  may  be  the  case  with  the  Earl  of  Badenoch,"  re- 
plied Wallace,  "  but  something  less  friendly  to  Scotland  must 
be  in  the  breast  of  the  man  who  could  betray  Lord  Douglas 
into  the  hands  of  his  enemies." 

"  So  I  should  have  thought,"  replied  the  earl,  "  had  not  the 
earnestness  with  which  my  wife  pleads  his  cause  convinced 
me  she  knows  more  of  his  mind  than  she  chooses  to  intrust  me 
with ;  and  therefore  I  suppose  his  conduct  to  Douglas  arose 
from  personal  pique." 

Though  these  explanations  did  not  at  all  raise  the  absent 
lords  in  his  esteem,  yet  to  appear  hostile  to  the  return  of  Lady 
Mar's  relations  would  be  a  violence  to  her,  which,  in  proportion 
as  Wallace  shrunk  from  the  guilty  affection  she  was  so  eager 
to  lavish  upon  him,  he  was  averse  to  committing ;  wishing,  by 
showing  her  every  proper  consideration,  to  lead  her  to  appre- 
hend the  turpitude  of  her  conduct,  by  convincing  her  that  his 
abhorrence  of  her  advances  had  its  origin  in  principle,  rather 
than  from  personal  repugnance  to  herself,  and  so  she  might 
see  the  foulness  of  her  crime,  and  be  recalled  to  virtue.  He 
was  therefore  not  displeased  to  have  this  opportunity  of  oblig- 
ing her ;  and  as  he  hoped  that  amongst  so  many  warm  friends 
a  few  cool  ones  could  not  do  much  injury,  he  gave  in  the  names 
of  Badenoch  and  Athol,  with  .those  of  Lord  Douglas,  Sir 
William  Maitland  (the  only  son  of  the  venerable  Knight  of 
Thirlestane),  Sir  John  Monteith,  and  many  other  brave  Scots. 

For  these, -the  Earls  de  Warenne,  de  Valence,  and  Mont- 
gomery, the  Barons  Hilton  and  Blenkinsopp,  and  others  of 
note,  were  to  be  exchanged.  Those  of  lesser  consequence, 
man  for  man,  were  to  be  returned  for  Scots  of  the  same 
degree. 


'280  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

In  arranging  preliminaries  to  effect  the  speedy  return  of  the 
Scots  from  England  (who  must  be  known  to  have  arrived  on 
the  borders  before  the  English  would  be  permitted  to  recross 
them),  in  writing  despatches  on  this  subject  and  on  others  of 
equal  moment,  had  passed  the  time  between  the  surrender  of 
Stirling  and  the  hour  when  Wallace  was  called  to  the  plain 
to  receive  the  offered  homage  of  his  grateful  country. 

Impatient  to  behold  again  the  object  of  her  fond  machina 
tions,  Lady  Mar  hastened  to  the  window  of  her  apartment 
when  the  shouts  in  the  streets  informed  her  of  the  approach 
of  Wallace.  The  loud  huzzas,  accompanied  by  the  acclama- 
tions of  "  Our  Protector  and  Prince  ! "  seemed  already  to  bind 
her  brows  with  her  anticipated  diadem,  and  for  a  moment 
vanity  lost  the  image  of  love  in  the  purple  with  which  she 
enveloped  it. 

Her  ambitious  vision  was  disturbed  by  the  crowd  rushing 
forward;  the  gates  were  thronged  with  people  of  every  age 
and  sex,  and  Wallace  himself  appeared  on  his  white  charger, 
with  his  helmet  off,  bowing  and  smiling  upon  the  populace. 
There  was  a  mild  effulgence  in  his  eye,  a  divine  benevolence 
in  his  countenance,  as  his  parted  lips  showed  the  brightness  of 
his  smile,  which  seemed  to  speak  of  happiness  within,  of  joy 
to  all  around.  She  hastily  snatched  a  chaplet  of  flowers  from 
her  head  and  threw  it  from  the  window.  Wallace  looked  up  ; 
his  bow  and  his  smile  were  then  directed  to  her,  but  they 
were  altered.  The  moment  he  met  the  gratulation  of  her 
eager  eyes,  he  remembered  what  would  have  been  the  soft  wel- 
come of  his  Marion's  under  the  like  circumstance.  But  that 
tender  eye  was  closed,  that  ear  was  shut,  to  whom  he  would 
have  wished  these  plaudits  to  have  given  rapture,  —  and  they 
were  now  as  nothing  to  him.  The  countess  saw  not  what  was 
passing  in  his  mind,  but  kissing  her  hand  to  him,  disappeared 
from  the  window  when  he  entered  the  palace. 

Another  eye  besides  Lady  'Mar's  had  witnessed  the  tri- 
umphant entry  of  Wallace.  Triumphant  in  the  true  sense  of 
the  word,  for  he  came  a  victor  over  the  hearts  of  men ;  he 
came,  not  attended  by  his  captives  won  in  the  war,  but  by  the 

Eeople   he   had   blessed;   by   throngs  calling   him   preserver, 
ither,  friend,  and  prince ;  by  every  title  which  can  inspire 
the  soul  of  man  with  the  happy  consciousness  of  fulfilling  his 
embassy  here  below. 

Helen  was  this  witness.  She  had  passed  the  long  interval 
since  she  had  seen  Wallace  in  the  state  of  one  in  a  dream. 
The  glance  had  been  so  transient,  that  every  succeeding  hour 


SN AW  DO  UN   PALACE.  281 

seemed  to  lessen  the  evidence  of  her  senses  that  she  had  really 
beheld  him.  It  appeared  impossible  to  her  that  the  man 
whom  her  thoughts  had  hitherto  dwelt  on  as  the  widowed  hus- 
band of  Marion,  as  the  hero  whom  sorrow  had  wholly  dedi- 
cated to  patriotism  and  to  Heaven,  should  ever  awaken  in  her 
breast  feelings  which  would  seem  to  break  like  a  sacrilegious 
host  upon  the  holy  consecration  of  his.  Once  she  had  con- 
templated his  idea  with  the  pensive  impressions  of  one  lean- 
ing over  the  grave  of  a  hero ;  and  she  could  then  turn,  as  if 
emerging  from  the  glooms  of  sepulchral  monuments  to  upper 
day,  to  the  image  of  her  unknown  knight ;  she  could  then 
blamelessly  recollect  the  matchless  graces  of  his  figure ;  the 
noble  soul  that  breathed  from  his  every  word  and  action ;  the 
sweet,  though  thoughtful,  serenity  that  sat  on  his  brow. 
"  There,"  whispered  she  to  herself,  "  are  the  lofty  meditations 
of  a  royal  mind  devising  the  freedom  of  his  people.  When 
that  is  effected,  how  will  the  perfect  sunshine  break  out  from 
that  face !  Ah  !  how  blest  must  Scotland  be  under  his  reign, 
when  all  will  be  light,  virtue,  and  joy ! "  Bliss  hovered  like  an 
angel  over  the  image  of  this  imaginary  Bruce  ;  while  sorrow, 
in  mourning  weeds,  seemed  ever  dropping  tears  when  any  cir- 
cumstance recalled  that  of  the  real  Wallace. 

Such  was  the  state  of  Helen's  thoughts  when  in  the  mo- 
ment of  her  beholding  the  chief  of  Ellerslie  in  the  citadel  she 
recognized  in  his  expected  melancholy  form  the  resplendent 
countenance  of  him  whom  she  supposed  the  Prince  of  Scot- 
land. That  two  images  so  opposite  should  at  once  unite,  that 
in  one  bosom  should  be  mingled  all  the  virtues  she  had  be- 
lieved peculiar  to  each,  struck  her  with  overwhelming  amaze- 
ment ;  but  when  she  recovered  from  her  short  swoon  and 
found  Wallace  at  her  feet,  when  she  felt  that  all  the  devotion 
her  heart  had  hitherto  paid  to  the  simple  idea  of  virtue  alone 
would  now  be  attracted  to  that  glorious  mortal  in  whom  all 
human  excellence  appeared  summed  up,  she  trembled  under 
an  emotion  that  seemed  to  rob  her  of  herself  and  place  a  new 
principle  of  being  within  her. 

All  was  so  extraordinary,  so  unlocked  for,  so  bewildering, 
that  from  the  moment  in  which  she  had  retired  in  such  a  par- 
oxysm of  highly  wrought  feelings  from  her  first  interview  in 
the  gallery  with  him,  she  became  altogether  like  a  person  in  a 
trance ;  and  hardly  answering  her  aunt,  when  she  then  led  her 
up  the  stairs,  only  complained  she  was  ill,  and  threw  herself 
upon  a  couch. 

At  the  very  time  that  her  heart  told  her,  in  a  language  she  could 


282  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

not  misunderstand,  that  she  irrevocably  loved  this  too  glori- 
ous, too  amiable  Wallace,  it  as  powerfully  denounced  to  her 
that  she  had  devoted  herself  to  one  who  must  ever  be  to  her 
as  a  being  of  air.  No  word  of  sympathy  would  ever  whisper 
felicity  to  her  heart ;  no,  the  flame  that  was  within  her  (which 
she  found  would  be  immortal  as  the  vestal  fires  which  re- 
sembled its  purity)  must  burn  there  unknown,  hidden,  but 
not  smothered. 

"  Were  this  a  canonized  saint,"  cried  she  as  she  laid  her 
throbbing  head  upon  her  pillow,  "  how  gladly  should  I  feel 
these  emotions  !  For  could  I  not  fall  down  and  worship  him  ? 
Could  I  not  think  it  a  world  of  bliss  to  live  forever  within 
the  influence  of  his  virtues,  looking  at  him,  listening  to  him, 
rejoicing  in  his  praises,  happy  in  his  happiness !  Yes,  though 
I  were  a  peasant  girl,  and  he  not  know  that  Helen  Mar  even 
existed !  And  I  may  live  thus,"  said  she ;  "  and  I  may  steal 
some  portion  of  the  rare  lot  that  was  Lady  Marion's  —  to  die 
for  such  a  man  !  Ah,  could  I  be  in  Edwin's  place,  and  wait 
upon  his  smiles  !  But  that  may  not  be ;  I  am  a  woman,  and 
formed  to  suffer  in  silence  and  seclusion.  But  even  at  a  dis- 
tance, brave  Wallace,  my  spirit  shall  watch  over  you  in  the 
form  of  this  Edwin ;  I  will  teach  him  a  double  care  of  the 
light  of  Scotland.  And  my  prayers  also  shall  follow  you,  so 
that  when  we  meet  in  heaven  the  blessed  Virgin  shall  say 
with  what  hosts  of  angels  her  intercessions,  through  my  vigils, 
have  surrounded  thee  !  " 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 


THE    BOWER,    OR   LADIES'    APARTMENT. 

THUS  did  Helen  commune  with  her  own  strangely  affected 
heart,  sometimes  doubting  the  evidence  of  her  eyes;  then, 
convinced  of  their  fidelity,  striving  to  allay  the  tumults  in 
her  mind.  She  seldom  appeared  from  her  own  rooms.  And 
such  retirement  was  not  questioned,  her  father  being  alto- 
gether engaged  at  the  citadel,  the  countess  absorbed  in 
her  own  speculations,  and  Lady  Ruthven  alone  interrupted 
the  solitude  of  her  niece  by  frequent  visits.  Little  suspect- 
ing the  cause  of  Helen's  prolonged  indisposition,  she  generally 
selected  Wallace  for  the  subject  of  conversation.  She  des- 
canted with  enthusiam  on  the  rare  perfection  of  his  character  j 


THE    BOWER,    OR    LADIES'    APARTMENT.        283 

told  her  all  that  Edwin  had  related  of  his  actions,  from  the 
taking  of  Dumbarton  to  the  present  moment ;  and  then  bade 
Helen  remark  the  miracle  of  such  wisdom,  valor,  and  good- 
ness being  found  in  one  so  young  and  handsome. 

"  So,  my  child,'7  added  she,  "  depend  on  it,  before  he  was 
Lady  Marion's  husband  he  must  have  heard  sighs  enough, 
from  the  fairest  in  our  land,  to  have  turned  the  wits  of  half 
the  male  world.  There  is  something  in  his  very  look,  did  you 
meet  him  on  the  heath,  without  better  garb  than  a  shepherd's 
plaid,  sufficient  to  declare  him  the  noblest  of  men,  andj 
methinks,  would  excuse  the  gentlest1  lady  in  the  land  for 
leaving  hall  and  bower  to  share  his  sheep-cote.  But,  alas  ! " 
and  then  the  playful  expression  of  her  countenance  altered, 
"  he  is  now  for  none  on  earth  !  " 

With  these  words  she  turned  the  subject  to  the  confidential 
hours  he  passed  with  the  young  adopted  brother  of  his  heart. 
Every  fond  emotion  seemed  then  centred  in  his  wife  and 
child.  When  Lady  Euthven  repeated  his  pathetic  words  to 
Edwin,  she  wept,  she  even  sobbed,  and  paused  to  recover, 
while  the  deep  and  silent  tears  which  flowed  from  the  heart 
to  the  eyes  of  Lady  Helen  bathed  the  side  of  the  couch  on 
which  she  leaned. 

"  Alas ! "  cried  Lady  Ruthven,  "  that  a  man  so  formed  to 
grace  every  relation  in  life;  so  noble  a  creature  in  all  re- 
spects ;  so  fond  a  husband,  so  full  of  parental  tenderness; 
that  he  should  be  deprived  of  the  wife  on  whom  he  doted ; 
that  he  should  be  cut  off  from  all  hope  of  posterity;  that, 
when  he  shall  die,  nothing  will  be  left  of  William  Wallace, — 
breaks  my  heart.'7 

"  Ah,  my  aunt,"  cried  Helen,  raising  her  head  with  anima- 
tion, "  will  he  not  leave  behind  him  the  liberty  of  Scotland  ? 
That  is  an  offspring  worthy  of  his  god-like  soul." 

"  True,  my  dear  Helen ;  but  had  you  ever  been  a  parent 
you  would  know  that  no  achievements,  however  great,  can 
heal  the  wound  made  in  a  father's  heart  by  the  loss  of  a 
beloved  child.  And  though  Sir  William  Wallace  never  saw 
the  infant  ready  to  bless  his  arms,  yet  it  perished  in  the 
bosom  of  its  mother :  and  that  circumstance  must  redouble  his 
affliction  ;  horribly  does  it  enhance  the  cruelty  of  the  deed ! " 

"  He  has  in  all  things  been  a  direful  sacrifice,"  returned 
Helen;  "and  with  God  alone  dwells  the  power  to  wipe  the 
tears  from  his  heart." 

1  Gentlest  is  here  used  In  the  Scottish  and  old  English  sense,  meaning  the  noblest 
blood.—  (1809). 


'284  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  They  flow  not  from  his  eyes,"  answered  her  aunt ;  "  but 
deep,  deep  is  the  grief  that,  my  Edwin  says,  is  settled  there." 

While  Lady  Ruthven  was  uttering  these  words,  shouts  in  the 
streets  made  her  pause,  and  soon  recognizing  the  name  of  Wal- 
lace sounding  from  the  Ups  of  the  rejoicing  multitude,  she 
turned  to  Helen.  "  Here  comes  our  deliverer  ! "  cried  she, 
taking  her  by  the  hand  ;  "  we  have  not  seen  him  since  the  first 
day  of  our  liberty.  It  will  do  you  good,  as  it  will  me,  to  look 
on  his  beneficent  face." 

She  obeyed  the  impulse  of  her  aunt's  arm,  and  reached  the 
window  just  as  he  passed  into  the  court-yard.  Helen's  soul 
seemed  rushing  from  her  eyes.  "  Ah !  it  is  indeed  he  ! " 
thought  she  ;  "  no  dream,  no  illusion,  but  his  very  self." 

He  looked  up,  but  not  on  her  side  of  the  building:  it  was  to 
the  window  of  Lady  Mar,  and  as  he  bowed  he  smiled.  All  the 
charms  of  that  smile  struck  upon  the  soul  of  Helen,  and  hastily 
retreating,  she  sunk  breathless  into  a  seat. 

"  Oh,  no !  that  man  cannot  be  born  for  the  isolated  state 
I  have  just  lamented.  He  is  not  to  be  forever  cut  oif  from 
communicating  that  happiness  to  which  he  would  give  so  much 
enchantment."  Lady  Ruthven  ejaculated  this  with  fervor, 
her  matron  cheeks  flushing  with  a  sudden  and  more  forcible 
admiration  of  the  person  and  mien  of  Wallace.  "  There  was 
something  in  that  smile,  Helen,  which  tells  me  all  is  not  chilled 
within.  And,  indeed,  how  should  it  be  otherwise  ?  That  gen- 
erous interest  in  the  happiness  of  all  which  seems  to  flow  in  a 
tide  of  universal  love  cannot  spring  from  a  source  incapable  of 
dispensing  the  softer  streams  of  it  again." 

Helen,  whose  well-poised  soul  was  not  affected  by  the  agita- 
tions of  her  body,  —  agitations  she  was  determined  to  conquer, 
—  calmly  answered,  "  Such  a  hope  little  agrees  with  all  you 
have  been  telling  me  of  his  conversations  with  Edwin.  Sir 
William  Wallace  will  never  love  woman  more,  and  even  to 
name  the  idea  seems  an  offence  against  the  sacredness  of  his 
sorrow." 

"  Blame  me  not,  Helen,"  returned  Lady  Ruthven,  "  that  I 
forgot  probability  in  grasping  at  a  possibility  which  might 
give  me  such  a  nephew  as  Sir  William  Wallace,  and  you  a  hus- 
band worthy  of  your  merits.  I  had  always  in  my  own  mind 
fixed  on  the  unknown  knight  for  your  future  lord,  and  now 
that  I  find  he  and  the  deliverer  of  Scotland  are  one,  I  am  not 
to  be  looked  grave  at  for  wishing  to  reward  him  with  the  most 
precious  heart  that  ever  beat  in  a  female  breast." 

"  No  more  of  this,  if  you  love  me,  my  dear  aunt ! "  returned 


THE    BOWER,    OR    LADIES'    APARTMENT.        285 

Helen ;  "  it  neither  can  nor  ought  to  be.  I  revere  the  memory 
of  Lady  Marion  too  much  not  to  be  agitated  by  the  subject; 
so,  no  more."  She  was  agitated.  But  at  that  instant  Edwin, 
throwing  open  the  door,  put  an  end  to  the  conversation. 

He  came  to  apprise  his  mother  that  Sir  William  Wallace 
was  in  the  state  apartments,  come  purposely  to  pay  his  re- 
spects to  her,  not  having  even  been  introduced  to  her,  when 
the  sudden  illness  of  her  niece  in  the  castle  had  made  them 
part  so  abruptly. 

"  I  will  not  interrupt  his  introduction  now,"  said  Helen,  with 
a  faint  smile ;  "  a  few  days'  retirement  will  strengthen  me,  and 
then  I  shall  see  our  protector  as  I  ought." 

"I  will  stay  with  you,"  cried  Edwin;  "and  I  dare  say  Sir 
William  Wallace  will  have  no  objection  to  be  speedily  joined 
by  my  mother,  for  as  I  came  along  I  met  my  Aunt  Mar  hasten- 
ing through  the  gallery ;  and  between  ourselves,  my  sweet  coz, 
I  do  not  think  my  noble  friend  quite  likes  a  private  conference 
with  your  fair  step-mother." 

Lady  Ruthven  had  withdrawn  before  he  made  this  observa- 
tion. 

"Why,  Edwin?  surely  she  would  not  do  any  thing  ungracious 
to  one  to  whom  she  owes  so  great  a  weight  of  obligations  ? " 
When  Helen  asked  this  she  remembered  the  spleen  Lady  Mar 
once  cherished  against  Wallace,  and  she  feared  it  might  now 
have  revived. 

"  Ungracious !  oh,  no  !  the  reverse  of  that,  but  her  gratitude 
is  full  of  absurdity.  I  will  not  repeat  the  fooleries  with  which 
she  sought  to  detain  him  at  Bute.  And  that  some  new  fancy 
respecting  him  is  now  about  to  menace  his  patience,  I  am  con- 
vinced, for  on  my  way  hither  I  met  her  hurrying  along,  and  as 
she  passed  me  she  exclaimed,  '  Is  Lord  Buchan  arrived  ?  '  I 
answered, '  Yes.' —  '  Ah,  then  he  proclaimed  him  king  ! '  cried 
she,  and  into  the  great  gallery  she  darted." 

"You  do  not  mean  to  say,"  demanded  Helen,  turning  her 
eyes  with  an  expression  which  seemed  confident  of  his  answer, 
u  that  Sir  William  Wallace  has  accepted  the  .crown  of  Scot- 
land ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Edwin ;  "  but  as  certainly  it  has 
been  offered  to  him,  and  he  has  refused  it." 

"  I  could  have  sworn  it,"  returned  Helen,  rising  from  her 
chair;  "all  is  loyal,  all  is  great  and  consistent  there,  Edwin." 

"He  is  indeed  the  perfect  exemplar  of  all  nobleness/'  re- 
joined the  youth,  "  and  I  believe  I  shall  even  love  you  better, 
my  dear  cousin,  because  you  seem  to  have  so  clear  an  appre- 


286  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

hension  of  his  real  character."  He  then  proceeded,  with  all 
the  animation  of  the  most  zealous  affection,  to  narrate  to 
Helen  the  particulars  of  the  late  scene  on  the  Carse  of  Stir- 
ling. And  while  he  deepened  still  more  the  profound  im- 
pression the  virtues  of  Wallace  had  made  on  her  heart,  he 
reopened  its  more  tender  sympathies  by  repeating,  with  even 
minuter  accuracy  than  he  had  done  to  his  mother,  details  of 
those  hours  which  he  passed  with  him  in  retirement.  He 
spoke  of  the  beacon-hill,  of  moonlight  walks  in  the  camp, 
when  all  but  the  sentinels  and  his  general  and  himself  were 
sunk  in  sleep. 

These  were  the  seasons  when  the  suppressed  feelings  of 
Wallace  would,  by  fits,  break  from  his  lips,  and  at  last  pour 
themselves  out  unrestrainedly  to  the  ear  of  sympathy.  As 
the  young  narrator  described  all  the  endearing  qualities  of 
his  friend,  the  cheerful  heroism  with  which  he  quelled  every 
tender  remembrance  to  do  his  duty  in  the  day,  "  for  it  is 
only  in  the  night,"  said  Edwin,  "  that  my  general  remembers 
Ellerslie,"  Helen's  tears  again  stole  silently  down  her  cheeks. 
Edwin  perceived  them,  and  throwing  his  arms  gently  around 
her,  "  Weep  not,  my  sweet  cousin,"  said  he,  "  for  with  all  his 
sorrow,  I  never  saw  true  happiness  till  I  beheld  it  in  the  eyes 
arid  heard  it  in  the  voice  of  Sir  William  Wallace.  He  has 
talked  to  me  of  the  joy  he  should  experience  in  giving  liberty 
to  Scotland  and  establishing  her  peace,  till  his  enthusiastic 
soul,  grasping  hope  as  if  it  were  possession,  he  has  looked  on 
me  with  a  consciousness  of  enjoyment  which  seemed  to  say 
that  all  bliss  was  summed  up  in  a  patriot's  breast. 

"And  at  other  times,  when,  after  a  conversation  on  his 
beloved  Marion,  a  few  natural  regrets  would  pass  his  lips, 
and  my  tears  tell  how  deep  was  my  sympathy,  then  he  would 
turn  to  comfort  me ;  then  he  would  show  me  the  world  beyond 
this  — that  world  which  is  the  aim  of  all  his  deeds,  the  end  of 
all  his  travails,  and,  lost  in  the  rapturous  ideas  of  meeting  his 
Marion  there,  a  foretaste  of  all  would  seem  to  seize  his  soul ; 
and  were  I  then  called  upon  to  point  out  the  most  enviable 
felicity  on  earth,  I  should  say  it  is  that  of  Sir  William 
Wallace.  It  is  this  enthusiasm  in  all  he  believes  and  feels 
that  makes  him  what  he  is.  It  is  this  eternal  spirit  of  hope, 
infused  into  him  by  heaven  itself,  that  makes  him  rise  from 
sorrow  like  the  sun  from  a  cloud,  brighter,  and  with  more 
ardent  beams.  It  is  this  that  bathes  his  lips  in  the  smiles  of 
paradise,  that  throws  a  divine  lustre  over  his  eyes,  and  makes 
all  dream  of  love  and  happiness  that  look  upon  him." 


THE    BOWER,    OR    LADIES'    APARTMENT.        287 

Edwin  paused.     "  Is  it  not  so,  my  cousin  ?  " 

Helen  raised  her  thoughtful  face.  "He  is  not  a  being  of 
this  earth,  Edwin.  We  must  learn  to  imitate  him,  as  well  as 
to  " —  She  hesitated,  and  then  added,  "  as  well  as  to  revere 
him.  I  do  revere  him  with  such  a  sentiment  as  fills  my 
heart  when  I  bend  before  the  altars  of  the  saints.  But  not 
to  worship,"  said  she,  interrupting  herself ;  "  that  would  be  a 
crime.  To  look  on  him  as  a  glorious  example  of  patient  suf- 
fering, of  invincible  courage,  in  the  behalf  of  truth  and 
mercy.  This  is  the  end  of  my  reverence  of  him;  and  this 
sentiment,  my  dear  Edwin,  you  partake." 

"It  possesses  me  wholly,"  cried  the  energetic  youth.  "I 
have  no  thought,  no  wish,  nor  ever  move  or  speak,  but  with 
the  intent  to  be  like  him.  He  calls  me  his  brother,  and  I  will 
be  so  in  soul,  though  I  cannot  in  blood ;  and  then,  my  dear 
Helen,  you  shall  have  two  Sir  William  Wallaces  to  love." 

"  Sweetest,  sweetest  boy  !  "  cried  Helen,  putting  her  quiver- 
ing lips  to  his  forehead;  "you  will  then  always  remember 
that  Helen  so  dearly  loves  Scotland  as  to  be  jealous,  above  all 
earthly  things,  for  the  lord  regent's  safety.  Be  his  guardian 
angel.  Beware  of  treason,  in  man  and  woman,  friend  and 
kindred.  It  lurks,  my  cousin,  under  the  most  specious  forms  ; 
and,  as  one,  mark  Lord.  Buchan  ;  in  short,  have  a  care  of  all 
whom  any  of  the  House  of  Cummin  may  introduce.  Watch 
over  your  general's  life  in  the  private  hour.  It  is  not  the 
public  field  I  fear  for  him ;  his  valiant  arm  will  there  be  his 
own  guard.  But,  in  the  unreserved  day  of  confidence,  envy 
will  point  its  dagger ;  and  then  be  as  eyes  to  his  too  trusting 
soul,  as  a  shield  to  his  too  confidently  exposed  breast." 

As  she  spoke  she  strove  to  conceal  her  too  eloquent  face  in 
the  silken  ringlets  of  her  hair. 

"  I  will  be  all  this,"  cried  Edwin,  who  saw  nothing  in  her 
tender  solicitude  but  the  ingenuous  affection  which  glowed  in 
his  own  heart ;  "  and  I  will  be  your  eyes,  too,  my  cousin  ;  for 
when  I  am  absent  with  Sir  William  Wallace  I  shall  consider 
myself  your  representative,  and  so  will  send  you  regular 
despatches  of  all  that  happens  to  him." 

Thanks  would  have  been  a  poor  means  of  imparting  what 
she  felt  at  this  assurance,  and  rising  from  her  seat,  with  some 
of  Wallace's  own  resigned  and  enthusiastic  expression  in  her 
face,  she  pressed  Edwin's  hand  to  her  heart ;  then  bowing  her 
head  to  him,  in  token  of  gratitude,  withdrew  into  an  inner 
apartment. 


288  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 


STIRLING    CASTLE    AND     COUNCIL-HALL. 

THE  countess's  chivalric  tribute  from  the  window  gave 
Wallace  reason  to  anticipate  her  company  in  his  visit  to  Lady 
Ruthven,  and  on  finding  the  room  vacant,  he  despatched 
Edwin  for  his  mother,  that  he  might  not  be  distressed  by  the 
unchecked  advances  of  a  woman  whom,  as  the  wife  of  Lord 
Mar,  he  was  obliged  to  see,  and  whose  weakness  he  pitied,  as 
she  belonged  to  a  sex  for  which,  in  consideration  of  the 
felicity  once  bestowed  on  him  by  woman,  he  felt  a  peculiar 
tenderness.  Respect  the  countess  he  could  not,  nor,  indeed, 
could  he  feel  any  gratitude  for  a  preference  which  seemed  to 
him  to  have  no  foundations  in  the  only  true  basis  of  love  — 
the  virtues  of  the  object.  For  as  she  acted  against  every 
moral  law,  against  his  declared  sentiments,  it  was  evident 
that  she  placed  little  value  on  his  esteem ;  and  therefore  he 
despised,  while  he  pitied,  a  human  creature  ungovernably 
yielding  herself  to  the  sway  of  her  passions. 

In  the  midst  of  thoughts  so  little  to  her  advantage  Lady 
Mar  entered  the  room.  Wallace  turned  to  meet  her,  while  she, 
hastening  towards  him  and  dropping  on  one  knee,  exclaimed, 
"  Let  me  be  the  first  woman  in  Scotland  to  acknowledge  its 
king  ! " 

Wallace  put  forth  both  his  hands  to  raise  her,  and  smiling 
replied,  "  Lady  Mar,  you  would  do  me  an  honor  I  can  never 
claim." 

"  How  ?  "  cried  she,  starting  up.  "  What  then  was  that  cry 
I  heard  ?  Did  they  not  call  you  '  prince/  and  '  sovereign  '  ? 
Did  not  my  Lord  Buchan  "  — 

Confused,  disappointed,  overpowered,  she  left  the  sentence 
unfinished,  sunk  on  a  seat  and  burst  into  tears.  At  that 
moment  she  saw  her  anticipated  crown  fall  from  her  head,  and 
having  united  the  gaining  of  Wallace  with  his  acquisition  of 
this  dignity,  all  her  hopes  seemed  again  the  sport  of  winds. 
She  felt  as  if  Wallace  had  eluded  her  power,  for  it  was  by  the 
ambition-serving  acts  of  her  kinsman  that  she  had  meant  to 
bind  him  to  her  love  ;  and  now  all  was  rejected,  and  she  wept  in 
despair.  He  gazed  at  her  with  amazement.  What  these  emo- 
tions and  his  elevation  had  to  do  with  each  other  he  could  not 
guess ;  but  recollecting  her  manner  of  mentioning  Lord  Buchau's 


STIRLING    CASTLE    AND    COUNCIL-HALL.      289 

name,  he  answered,  "Lord  Buchan  I  have  just  seen.  He  and 
Lord  March  came  upon  the  carse  at  the  time  I  went  thither  to 
meet  my  gallant  countrymen,  and  these  two  noblemen,  though 
so  lately  the  friends  of  Edward,  united  with  the  rest  in  pro- 
claiming me  regent.'7 

This  word  dried  the  tears  of  Lady  Mar.  She  saw  the  shadow 
of  royalty  behind  it,  and  summoning  artifice  to  conceal  the  joy 
of  her  heart,  she  calmly  said,  "  Do  not  too  severely  condemn 
this  weakness  ;  it  is  not  that  of  vain  wishes  for  your  aggrandize- 
ment. You  are  the  same  to  Joanna  Mar  whether  as  a  monarch 
or  a  private  man,  so  long  as  you  possess  that  supremacy  in  all 
excellence  which  first  gained  her  esteem.  It  is  for  Scotland's 
sake  alone  that  I  wish  you  to  be  her  king.  You  have  taught 
me  to  forget  all  selfish  desires,  to  respect  myself,"  cried  she, 
"and  from  this  hour  I  conjure  you  to  wipe  from  your  memory 
all  my  folly,  all  my  love  " — 

With  the  last  word  her  bosom  heaved  tumultuously,  and  she 
rose  in  agitation.  Wallace  now  gazed  on  her  with  redoubled 
wonder.  She  saw  it,  and  hearing  a  foot  in  the  passage,  turned, 
and  grasping  his  hand,  said  in  soft  and  hurried  tone,  "  Forgive 
that  what  is  entwined  with  my  heart  should  cost  me  some 
pangs  to  wrest  thence  again !  Only  respect  me  and  I  am.  com- 
forted.'7 Wallace  in  silence  pressed  her  hand,  and  the  door 
opened. 

Lady  Ruthven  entered.  The  countess,  whose  present  aim 
was  to  throw  the  virtue  of  Wallace  off  its  guard,  and  to  take 
that  by  sap  which  she  found  resisted  open  attack,  with  a 
penitential  air  disappeared  by  another  passage.  Edwin's  gen- 
tle mother  was  followed  by  the  same  youth  who  had  brought 
Helen's  packet  to  Berwick.  It  was  Walter  Hay,  anxious  to  be 
recognized  by  his  benefactor,  to  whom  his  recovered  health  had 
rendered  his  person  strange.  Wallace  received  him  with  kind- 
ness, and  told  him  to  bear  his  grateful  respects  to  his  lady  for 
her  care  of  her  charge.  Lord  Ruthven  with  others  soon  en- 
tered, and  at  the  appointed  hour  they  attended  their  chief  to 
the  citadel. 

The  council-hall  was  already  filled  with  the  lords  who  had 
brought  their  clans  to  the  Scottish  standard.  On  the  entrance 
of  Wallace  they  rose,  and  Mar  coming  forward,  followed  by  the 
heralds  and  other  officers  of  ceremony,  saluted  him  with  the 
due  forms  of  regent,  and  led  him  to  the  throne.  Wallace 
ascended,  but  it  was  only  to  take  thence  a  packet  which  had 
been  deposited  for  him  on  its  cushion,  and  coming  down  again 
he  laid  the  parchment  on  the  council-table. 

VOL.  I.  — 19 


290  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  I  can  do  all  things  best,"  said  he,  "  when  I  am  upon  a 
level  with  my  friends."  He  then  broke  the  seal  of  the 
packet.  It  was  from  the  Prince  of  Wales,  agreeing  to  Wal- 
lace's proposed  exchange  of  prisoners,  but  denouncing  him  as 
the  instigator  of  the  rebellion,  a:.d  threatening  him  with  a 
future  judgment  from  his  incensed  king  for  the  mischief  he 
had  wrought  in  the  realm  of  Scotland.  The  letter  was  finished 
with  a  demand  that  the  town  and  citadel  of  Berwick  should  be 
surrendered  to  England  as  a  gage  for  the  quiet  of  the  borders 
till  Edward  should  return. 

Kirkpatrick  scoffed  at  the  audacious  menace  of  the  young 
prince.  "  He  should  come  amongst  us  like  a  man,"  cried  he, 
"and  we  would  soon  show  him  who  it  is  that  works  mischief 
in  Scotland.  Ay,  even  on  his  back  we  would  write  the  chas- 
tisement due  to  the  offender." 

"  Be  not  angry  with  him,  my  friend,"  returned  Wallace  ; 
"  these  threats  are  words,  of  course,  from  the  son  of  Edward. 
Did  he  not  fear  both  our  rights  and  our  arms  he  would  not  so 
readily  accord  with  our  propositions.  You  see,  every  Scottish 
prisoner  is  to  be  on  the  borders  by  a  certain  day,  and  to 
satisfy  that  impatient  valor  (which  I,  your  friend,  would 
never  check  but  when  it  loses  itself  in  a  furor  too  nearly 
resembling  that  of  our  enemies)  I  intend  to  make  your  prow- 
ess once  again  the  theme  of  their  discourse.  You  will  retake 
your  castles  in  Annandale." 

"  Give  me  but  the  means  to  recover  those  stout  gates  of  our 
country,"  cried  Kirkpatrick,  "  and  I  will  warrant  you  to  keep 
the  keys  in  my  hand  till  doomsday." 

Wallace  resumed :  "  Three  thousand  men  are  at  your  com- 
mand. When  the  prisoners  pass  each  other  on  the  Cheviots, 
the  armistice  will  terminate.  You  may  then  fall  back  upon 
Annandale,  and  that  night  light  your  own  fires  in  Torthorald. 
Send  the  expelled  garrisons  into  Northumberland,  and  show 
this  haughty  prince  that  we  know  how  to  replenish  his  de- 
populated towns." 

"But  first  I  will  set  my  mark  on  them,"  cried  Kirkpatrick? 
with  one  of  those  laughs  which  ever  preluded  some  savage 
proposal. 

"  I  can  guess  it  would  be  no  gentle  one,"  returned  Wallace. 
"  Why,  brave  knight,  will  you  ever  sully  the  fair  field  of  your 
fame  with  an  ensanguined  tide  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  fashion  of  the  times,"  replied  Kirkpatrick,  roughly. 
"  You  only,  my  victorious  general,  who,  perhaps,  had  most 
cause  to  go  with  the  stream,  have  chosen  a  path  of  your  own. 


STIRLING    CASTLE    AND    COUNCIL-HALL.       291 

But  look  around !  see  our  burns,  which  the  Southrons  made 
run  with  Scottish  blood ;  our  hillocks,  swollen  with  the  cairns  of 
our  slain ;  the  highways  blocked  up  with  the  graves  of  the 
murdered ;  our  lands  filled  with  maimed  clansmen,  who  pur- 
chased life  of  our  ruthless  tyrants  by  the  loss  of  eyes  and 
limbs  !  And  shall  we  talk  of  gentle  methods  with  the  perpe- 
trators of  these  horrors  ?  Sir  William  Wallace,  you  would 
make  women  of  us  ! " 

"  Shame,  shame !  Kirkpatrick,"  resounded  from  every 
voice ;  "  you  insult  the  regent." 

Kirkpatrick  stood  proudly  frowning,  with  his  left  hand  on 
the  hilt  of  his  sword.  Wallace,  by  a  motion,  hushed  the 
tumult,  and  spoke.  "  No  true  chief  of  Scotland  can  offer  me 
greater  respect  than  frankly  to  trust  me  with  his  senti- 
ments." 

"  Though  we  disagree  in  some  points,"  cried  Kirkpatrick, 
""I  am  ready  to  die  for  him  at  any  time,  for  I  believe  a  trustier 
Scot  treads  not  the  earth ;  but  I  repeat,  why  by  this  mincing 
mercy  seek  to  turn  our  soldiers  into  women  ?  " 

"I 'seek  to  make  them  men,"  replied  Wallace  ;  "  to  be  aware 
that  they  fight  with  fellow-creatures  with  whom  they  may 
one  day  be  friends ;  and  not  like  the  furious  savages  of  old 
Scandinavia,  drink  the  blood  of  eternal  enmity.  I  would 
neither  have  my  chieftains  set  examples  of  cruelty  nor  de- 
grade themselves  by  imitating  the  barbarities  of  our  enemies. 
That  Scotland  bleeds  at  every  pore,  is  true ;  but  let  peace  be 
our  aim,  and  we  shall  heal  all  her  wounds." 

"  Then  I  am  not  to  cut  off  the  ears  of  the  freebooters  in 
Annandale  ?  "  cried  Kirkpatrick,  with  a  good-humored  smile. 
"  Have  it  as  you  will,  my  general ;  only  you  must  new  christen 
me,  to  wash  the  war-stain  from  my  hand.  '  The  rite  of  my 
infancy  was  performed  as  became  a  soldier's  son :  my  fount 
was  my  father's  helmet ;  and  the  first  pap  I  sucked  lay  on  the 
point  of  his  sword."  l 

"  You  have  not  shamed  your  nurse,"  cried  Murray. 

"Nor  will  I,"  answered  Kirkpatrick,  " while  the  arm  that 
slew  Cressingham  remains  unwithered." 

While  he  spoke,  Ker  entered  to  ask  permission  to  intro- 
duce a  messenger  from  Earl  de  Warenne.  Wallace  gave 
consent.  It  was  Sir  Hugh  le  de  Spencer,  a  near  kinsman  of 
the  Earl  of  Hereford,  the  tumultuary  constable  of  England. 

1  All  who  nre  conversant  with  the  traditionary  accounts  of  the  ancient  Scottish  man- 
ners must  be  well  acquainted  with  these  barbarous  customs.  They  were  employed  to 
perpetuate  n  ferocity  against  their  enemies  similar  to  that  which  was  inculcated  by 
resembling  means  into  the  young  Hannibal.  —  (1809. ) 


292  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS.* 

He  was  the  envoy  who  had  brought  the  Prince  of  Wales's 
despatches  to  Stirling.  Wallace  was  standing  when  he 
entered,  and  so  were  the  chieftains,  but  at  his  appearance  they 
sat  down.  Wallace  retained  his  position. 

"  I  come,"  cried  the  Southron  knight,  "  from  the  lord  war- 
den of  Scotland,  who,  like  my  prince,  too  greatly  condescends 
to  do  otherwise  than  command  where  now  he  treats.  I  come 
to  the  leader  of  this  rebellion,  William  Wallace,  to  receive  an 
answer  to  the  terms  granted  by  the  clemency  of  my  master, 
the  son  of  his  liege  lord,  to  this  misled  kingdom." 

"  Sir  Knight,"  replied  Sir  William  Wallace,  "  when  the 
Southron  lords  delegate  a  messenger  to  me  who  knows  how 
to  respect  the  representative  of  the  nation  to  which  he  is 
sent,  and  the  agents  of  his  own  country,  I  shall  give  them  my 
reply.  You  may  withdraw." 

The  Southron  stood,  resolute  to  remain  where  he  was.  "  Do 
you  know,  proud  Scot,"  cried  he,  "  to  whom  you  dare  address 
this  imperious  language  ?  I  am  the  nephew  of  the  lord  high 
constable  of  England." 

"  It  is  pity,"  cried  Murray,  looking  coolly  up  from  the  table, 
"  that  he  is  not  here  to  take  his  kinsman  into  custody." 

Le  de  Spencer  fiercely  half  drew  his  sword.  "  Sir,  this 
insult "  — 

"Must  be  put  up  with,"  cried  Wallace,  interrupting  him 
and  motioning  Edwin  to  lay  his  hand  on  the  sword.  "You 
have  insulted  the  nation  to  which  you  were  sent  on  a  peaceful 
errand ;  and  having  thus  invited  the  resentment  of  every 
chief  here  present,  you  cannot  justly  complain  against  their 
indignation.  But  in  consideration  of  your  youth,  and  prob- 
able ignorance  of  what  becomes  the  character  of  an  ambassa- 
dor, I  grant  you  the  protection  your  behavior  has  forfeited. 
Sir  Alexander  Scrymgeour,"  said  he,  turning  to  him,  "you 
will  guard  Sir  Hugh  le  de  Spencer  to  the  Earl  de  Warenne, 
and  tell  that  nobleman  I  am  ready  to  answer  any  proper 
messenger." 

The  young  Southron,  frowning,  followed  Scrymgeour  from  the 
hall,  and  Wallace,  turning  to  Murray :  "  My  friend,"  said  he, 
"it  is  not  well  to  stimulate  insolence  by  repartee.  This 
young  man's  speech,  though  an  insult  to  the  nation,  was 
directed  to  me,  and  by  me  only  it  ought  to  have  been  an- 
swered, and  that  seriously.  The  haughty  spirit  of  this  man 
should  have  been  quelled,  not  incensed ;  and  had  you  proceeded 
one  word  further,  you  would  have  given  him  an  apparently 
just  cause  of  complaint  against  you ;  and  of  that,  my  friend, 


STIRLING    CASTLE    AND    COUNCIL-HALL.      293 

I  am  most  sensibly  jealous.  It  is  not  policy  nor  virtue  to  be 
rigorous  to  the  extent  of  justice." 

"  I  know,"  returned  Murray,  blushing,  "  that  my  wits  are  too 
many  for  me,  ever  throwing  me,  like  Phaeton's  horses,  into  the 
midst  of  some  very  fiery  mischief.  But  pardon  me  now,  and  I 
promise  to  rein  them  close  when  next  I  see  this  prancing 
knight." 

"  Bravo,  my  Lord  Andrew  ! "  cried  Kirkpatrick,  in  an  affected 
whisper.  "  I  am  not  always  to  be  bird  alone  under  the  whip  of 
our  regent  ;  you  have  had  a  few  stripes,  and  now  look  a  little 
of  my  feather. " 

"  Like  as  a  swan  to  a  vulture,  good  Roger,"  answered  Mur- 
ray. 

Wallace  attended  not  to  this  tilting  of  humor  between  the 
chieftains,  but  engaged  himself  in  close  discourse  with  the 
elder  nobles  at  the  higher  end  of  the  hall.  In  half  an  hour 
Scrymgeour  returned  and  with  him  Baron  Hilton.  He 
brought  an  apology  from  De  Warenne  for  the  behavior  of  his 
ambassador,  and  added  his  persuasions  to  the  demands  of  Eng- 
land, that  the  Regent  would  surrender  Berwick,  not  only  as  a 
pledge  for  the  Scots  keeping  the  truce  on  the  borders,  but  as  a 
proof  of  his  confidence  in  Prince  Edward. 

Wallace  answered  that  he  had  no  reason  to  show  extraordi- 
nary confidence  in  one  who  manifested  by  such  a  requisition 
that  he  had  no  faith  in  Scotland,  and  therefore,  neither  as  a 
proof  of  confidence  nor  as  a  gage  of  her  word  should  Scotland, 
a  victorious  power,  surrender  the  eastern  door  of  her  kingdom 
to  the  vanquished.  Wallace  declared  himself  ready  to  dismiss  the 
English  prisoners  to  the  frontiers,  and  to  maintain  the  armis- 
tice till  they  had  reached  the  south  side  of  the  Cheviots. 
"  But,"  added  he,  "  my  word  must  be  my  bond,  for,  by  the  honor 
of  Scotland,  I  will  give  no  other." 

"  Then,"  answered  Baron  Hilton,  with  an  honest  flush  passing 
over  his  cheek,  as  if  ashamed  of  what  he  had  next  to  say,  "  I 
am  constrained  to  lay  before  you  the  last  instructions  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  to  Earl  de  Warenne." 

He  took  a  royally  sealed  roll  of  vellum  from  his  breast  and 
read  aloud : 

Thus  saith  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  to  Earl  de  Warenne,  lord 
warden  of  Scotland :  If  that  arch-rebel,  William  Wallace,  who  now 
assumeth  to  himself  the  rule  of  all  our  royal  father's  hereditary  dominions 
north  of  the  Cheviots,  ref usetli  to  give  unto  us  the  whole  possession  of  the 
town  and  citadel  of  Berwick-upon-Tweed,  as  a  pledge  of  his  faith  to  keep 
the  armistice  on  the  borders  from  sea  to  sea,  we  command  you  to  tell  him. 


294  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

that  we  shall  detain,  under  the  ward  of  our  good  lieutenant  of  the  Tower 
in  London,  the  person  of  William,  the  Lord  Douglas,  as  a  close  captive 
until  our  prisoners  now  in  Scotland  arrive  safely  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne. 
This  mark  of  supremacy  over  a  rebellious  people  we  owe  as  a  pledge  of 
their  homage  to  our  royal  father,  and  as  a  tribute  of  our  gratitude  to  him 
for  having  allowed  us  to  treat  at  all  with  so  undutiful  a  part  of  .his 
dominions. 

(Signed) 

EDWARD,  P.W. 

"Baron,"  cried  Wallace,  "it  would  be  beneath  the  dignity  of 
Scotland  to  retaliate  this  act  with  the  like  conduct.  The  ex- 
change of  prisoners  shall  yet  be  made,  and  the  armistice  held 
sacred  on  the  borders.  But,  as  I  hold  the  door  of  war  open  in 
the  interior  of  the  country,  before  the  Earl  de  Warenne  leaves 
this  citadel  (and  it  shall  be  on  the  day  assigned),  please  the 
Almighty  Lord  of  Justice,  the  Southron  usurpers  of  all  our 
castles  on  the  eastern  coast  shall  be  our  hostages  for  the  safety 
of  Lord  Douglas  !  " 

"  And  this  is  my  answer,  noble  Wallace  ?  " 

"  It  is ;  and  you  see  no  more  of  me  till  that  which  I  have 
said  is  done." 

Barton  Hilton  withdrew,  and  Wallace,  turning  to  his  peers, 
rapidly  made  dispositions  for  a  sweeping  march  from  frith  to 
frith;  and  having  sent  those  who  were  to  accompany  him  to 
prepare  for  departure  next  day  at  dawn,  he  retired  with  the 
Lords  Mar  and  Bothwell  to  arrange  affairs  relative  to  the 
prisoners. 


CHAPTER    XL. 
THE  GOVERNOR'S  APARTMENTS. 

THE  sun  rose  on  Wallace  and  his  brave  legions  as  they 
traversed  the  once  romantic  glades  of  Strathmore ;  but  now 
the  scene  was  changed.  The  villages  were  abandoned,  and 
the  land  lay  around  in  uncultivated  wastes.  Sheep,  without  a 
shepherd,  fled  wild  from  the  approach  of  man,  and  wolves 
issued  howling  from  the  cloisters  of  depopulated  monasteries. 
The  army  approached  Dumblane ;  but  it  was  without  inhabi- 
tant ;  grass  grew  in  the  streets,  and  the  birds,  which  roosted  in 
the  desert  dwellings,  flew  scared  from  the  windows  as  the 
trumpet  of  Wallace  sounded  through  the  town.  Loud  echoes 
repeated  the  summons  from  its  hollow  walls ;  but  no  other  voice 


THE    GOVERNOR'S    APARTMENTS.  295 

was  heard,  no  human  face  appeared,  for  the  ravening  hand  of 
Cressingham  had  been  there.  Wallace  sighed  as  he  looked 
around  him.  "Rather  smile,"  cried  Graham,  "that  Heaven 
hath  given  you  the  power  to  say  to  the  tyrants  who  have  done 
this,  '  Here  shall  your  proud  waves  be  stayed.'  " 

They  proceeded  over  many  a  hill  and  plain,  and  found  that 
the  same  withering  touch  of  desolation  had  burnt  up  and  over- 
whelmed the  country.  Wallace  saw  that  his  troops  were  faint 
for  want  of  food;  cheering  them,  he  promised  that  Ormsby 
should  provide  them  a  feast  in  Perth ;  and,  with  reawakened 
spirits,  they  took  the  river  Tay  at  its  fords,  and  were  soon 
before  the  walls  of  that  well-armed  city.  But  it  was  governed 
by  a  coward  ;  and  Ormsby  fled  to  Dundee  at  the  first  sight  of 
the  Scottish  army.  His  flight  might  have  warranted  the  gar- 
rison to  surrender  without  a  blow ;  but  a  braver  man  being  his 
lieutenant,  sharp  was  the  conflict  before  Wallace  could  compel 
that  officer  to  abandon  the  ramparts,  and  to  sue  for  the  very 
terms  he  had  at  first  rejected. 

After  the  fall  of  Perth,  the  young  regent  made  a  rapid 
progress  through  that  part  of  the  country,  driving  the  Southron 
garrisons  out  of  Scone,  and  all  the  embattled  towns,  expelling 
them  from  the  castles  of  Kincain,  Elcho,  Kinfauns,  and  Doune; 
and  then  proceeding  to  the  marine  fortresses  (those  avenues 
by  which  the  ships  of  England  had  poured  its  legions  on  the 
eastern  coast),  he  compelled  Dundee,  Cupar,  Glamais,  Montrose, 
and  Aberdeen,  all  to  acknowledge  the  power  of  his  arms.  He 
seized  most  of  the  English  ships  in  those  ports,  and  manning 
them  with  Scots,  soon  cleared  the  seas  of  the  vessels  which  had 
escaped,  taking  some  and  putting  others  to  flight;  and  in  one 
of  the  latter  was  the  fugitive  Ormsby. 

This  enterprise  achieved,  Wallace,  with  a  host  of  prisoners, 
turned  his  steps  towards  the  Forth  ;  but  ere  he  left  the  banks 
of  the  Tay  and  Dee  he  detached  three  thousand  men,  under 
the  command  of  Lord  Ruthven,  giving  him  a  commission  to 
range  the  country  from  the  Carse  of  Gowrie  to  remotest 
Sutherland,  and  in  all  that  tract  reduce  every  town  and  castle 
which  had  admitted  a  Southron  garrison.  Wallace  took  leave 
of  Lord  Ruthven  at  Huntingtower ;  and  that  worthy  nobleman, 
when  he  assumed,  with  the  government  of  Perth,  this  exten- 
sive command,  said,  as  he  grasped  the  regent's  hand,  "  I  say 
not,  bravest  of  Scots,  what  is  my  gratitude  for  thus  making  me 
an  arm  of  my  country,  but  deeds  will  show."  l 

1  Deeds  shaw  is  one  of  the  honorable  mottoes  worn  by  the  present  head  of  the  noble 
house  of  Ruthven.  — (1809.) 


296  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

He  then  bade  a  father's  adieu  to  his  son,  counselling  him 
to  regard  Wallace  as  the  light  in  his  path,  and  embracing  him, 
they  parted. 

A  rapid  march  round  by  Fifeshire  (through  which  victory 
followed  their  steps)  brought 'the  conqueror  and  his  troops 
again  within  sight  of  the  towers  of  Stirling.  It  was  on  the 
eve  of  the  day  which  he  had  promised  Earl  de  Warenne  should 
see  the  English  prisoners  depart  for  the  borders.  No  doubt 
of  his  arriving  at  the  appointed  time  was  entertained  by  the 
Scots  or  by  the  Southrons  in  the  castle;  the  one  knew  the 
sa^credness  of  his  word,  and  the  other,  having  felt  his  prowess, 
would  not  so  far  disparage  their  own  as  to  suppose  that  any 
could  withstand  him  by  whom  they  were  beaten. 

De  Warenne,  as  he  stood  on  the  battlements  of  the  keep, 
beheld  from  afar  the  long  line  of  Scottish  soldiers  as  they  de- 
scended the  Ochil  hills.  When  he  pointed  it  out  to  De  Val- 
ence, that  nobleman  (who  in  proportion  as  he  wished  to  check 
the  arms  of  Wallace,  had  flattered  himself  that  it  might  hap- 
pen), against  the  evidence  of  his  eyesight,  contradicted  the 
observation  of  the  veteran  earl. 

"  Your  sight  deceives  you/'  said  he;  u  it  is  only  the  sunbeams 
playing  on  the  cliffs." 

"Then  those  clift's  are  moving  ones,"  cried  De  Warenne, 
"  which  I  fear  have  ground  our  countrymen  on  the  coast  to 
powder.  We  shall  find  Wallace  here  before  sunset,  to  show 
us  how  he  has  resented  the  affront  our  ill-advised  prince  cast 
on  his  jealous  honor." 

"  His  honor,"  returned  De  Valence,  "  is  like  that  of  his 
countrymen's  —  an  enemy  alike  to  his  own  interest  and  to  that 
of  others.  Had  it  allowed  him  to  accept  the  crown  of  Scot- 
land, and  so  have  fought  Edward  with  the  concentrating  arm 
of  a  king ;  or  would  he  even  now  offer  peace  to  our  sovereign, 
granting  his  prerogative  as  liege  lord  of  the  country, — all  might 
go  well ;  but  as  the  honor  you  speak  of  prevents  his  using  these 
means  of  ending  the  contest,  destruction  must  close  his  career." 

"And  what  quarrel,"  demanded  De  Warenne,  "  can  you,  my 
Lord  de  Valence,  have  against  this  nice  honor  of  Sir  William 
Wallace,  since  you  allow  it  secures  the  final  success  of  our 
cause  ?  " 

"  His  honor  and  himself  are  hateful  to  me,  "  impatiently 
answered  De  Valence ;  "  he  crosses  me  in  my  wishes,  public 
and  private,  and  for  the  sake  of  my  king  and  myself  I  might 
almost  be  tempted  "  —  He  turned  pale  as  he  spoke  and  met 
the  penetrating  glance  qf  De  Warenne.  He  paused. 


THE    GOVERNOR'S    APARTMENTS.  297 

"  Tempted  to  what  ?  "  asked  De  Warenne. 

"  To  a  Brutus  mode  of  ridding  the  state  of  an  enemy." 

"That  might  be  noble  in  a  Roman  citizen,"  returned  De 
Warenne,  "  which  would  be  villanous  in  an  English  lord, 
treated  as  you  have  been  by  a  generous  victor,  not  the  usurper 
of  any  country's  liberties,  but  rather  a  Brutus  in  defence  of  his 
own.  Which  man  of  us  all,  from  the  general  to  the  meanest 
follower  iit  our  camps,  has  he  injured  ?  " 

Lord  Aymer  frowned.  "  Did  he  not  expose  me,  threaten  me 
with  an  ignominious  death,  on  the  walls  of  Stirling  ?  " 

"  But  was  it  before  he  saw  the  Earl  of  Mar,  with  his  hapless 
family,  brought  with  halters  on  their  necks  to  be  suspended 
from  this  very  tower  ?  Ah  !  what  a  tale  has  the  lovely  count- 
ess told  me  of  that  direful  scene  !  What  he  then  did  was  to 
check  the  sanguinary  Cressingham  from  embruing  his  hands 
in  the  blood  of  female  and  infant  innocence." 

"  I  care  not,"  cried  De  Valence,  "  what  are  or  are  not  the 
offences  of  this  domineering  Wallace,  but  I  hate  him,  and  my 
respect  for  his  advocates  cannot  but  correspond  with  that  feel- 
ing." As  he  spoke,  that  he  might  not  be  further  molested  by 
the  arguments  of  De  Warenue,  he  abruptly  turned  away  and 
left  the  battlements. 

Pride  would  not  allow  the  enraged  earl  to  confess  his  private 
reasons  for  this  vehement  enmity  against  the  Scottish  chief. 
A  conference  which  he  had  held  the  preceding  evening  with 
Lord  Mar  was  the  cause  of  this  augmented  hatred,  and  from 
that  moment  the  haughty  Southron  vowed  the  destruction  of 
Wallace,  by  open  attack  or  secret  treachery.  Ambition  and 
the  base  counterfeit  of  love,  those  two  master  passions  in 
untempered  minds,  were  the  springs  of  this  antipathy.  The 
instant  in  which  he  knew  that  the  young  creature,  whom  at  a 
distance  he  discerned  clinging  around  the  Earl  of  Mar's  neck 
in  the  streets  of  Stirling,  was  the  same  Lady  Helen  on  whose 
account  Lord  Soulis  had  poured  on  him  such  undeserved  in- 
vectives in  Bothwell  Castle,  curious  to  have  a  nearer  view  of 
one  whose  transcendent  beauty  he  had  often  heard  celebrated 
by  others,  he  ordered  her  to  be  immediately  conveyed  to  his 
apartments  in  the  citadel. 

On  their  first  interview  he  was  more  struck  by  her  personal 
charms  than  he  had  ever  been  with  any  woman's,  although 
few  were  so  noted  for  gallantry  in  the  English  court  as  him- 
self. He  could  hardly  understand  the  nature  of  his  feelings 
while  discoursing  with  her.  To  all  others  of  her  sex  he  had 
declared  his  enamoured  wishes  with  as  much  ease  as  vivacity, 


298  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

but  when  he  looked  on  Helen  the  admiration  her  loveliness 
inspired  was  checked  by  an  indescribable  awe.  No  word  of 
passion  escaped  his  lips ;  he  sought  to  win  her  by  a  deport- 
ment consonant  with  her  own  dignity  of  manners,  and  obeyed 
all  her  wishes  excepting  when  they  pointed  to  any  communica- 
tion with  her  parents.  He  feared  the  wary  eyes  of  the  Earl  of 
Mar.  But  nothing  of  this  reverence  of  Helen  was  grounded 
on  any  principle  within  the  heart  of  De  Valence.  Sis  idea  of 
virtue  was  so  erroneous  that  he  believed  by  the  short  assump- 
tion of  its  semblance  he  might  so  steal  on  the  confidence  of 
his  victim  as  to  induce  her  to  forget  all  the  world,  nay,  Heaven 
itself,  in  his  sophistry  and  blandishments.  To  facilitate  this 
end  heat  first  designed  to  precipitate  the  condemnation  of  the 
earl,  that  he  might  be  rid  of  a  father's  existence,  holding,  in 
dread  of  his  censure,  the  perhaps  otherwise  yielding  heart  of 
his  lovely  intended  mistress. 

The  unprincipled  and  impure  can  have  no  idea  that  virtue 
or  delicacy  are  other  than  vestments  of  disguise  or  of  ornament 
to  be  thrown  off  at  will,  and  therefore  to  reason  with  such 
minds  is  to  talk  to  the  winds  — to  tell  a  man  who  is  born  blind 
to  decide  between  two  colors.  In  short,  a  libertine  heart  is  the 
same  in  all  ages  of  the  world.  De  Valence,  therefore,  seeing 
the  anguish  of  her  fears  for  her  father,  and  hearing  the  fervor 
with  which  she  implored  for  his  life,  adopted  the  plan  of 
granting  the  earl  reprieves  from  day  to  day  ;  and  in  spite  of 
the  remonstrances  of  Cressingham  he  intended  (after  having 
worked  upon  the  terrors  of  Helen)  to  grant  to  her  her  father's 
release  on  condition  of  her  yielding  herself  to  be  his.  He 
had  even  meditated  that  the  accomplishment  of  this  device 
should  have  taken  place  the  very  night  in  which  Wallace's 
first  appearance  before  Stirling  had  called  its  garrison  to 
arms. 

Impelled  by  vengeance  against  the  man  who  had  driven  him 
from  Dumbarton  and  from  Ayr,  and  irritated  at  being  delayed 
in  the  moment  when  his  passion  was  to  seize  its  object,  De 
Valence  thought  to  end  all  by  a  coup  de  main,  and,  rushing 
out  of  the  gates,  was  taken  prisoner.  Such  was  the  situation 
of  things  when  Wallace  first  became  master  of  the  place. 

Now,  when  the  whole  of  the  English  army  were  in  the  same 
captivity  with  himself,  when  he  saw  the  lately  proscribed  Lord 
Mar  governor  of  Stirling,  and  that  the  Scottish  cause  seemed 
triumphant  on  every  side,  De  Valence  changed  his  former  illicit 
views  on  Helen,  and  bethought  him  of  making  her  his  wife. 
Ambition,  as  well  as  love,  impelled  him.  to  this  resolution,  for 


THE    GOVERNOR'S    APARTMENTS.  301 

he  aspired  to  the  dignity  of  lord  warden  of  Scotland,  and  ng 
foresaw  that  the  vast  influence  which  his  marriage  with  tJs> 
daughter  of  Mar  must  give  him  in  the  country  would  be  ^ 
decisive  argument  with  the  King  of  England.  1 

To  this  purpose,  not  doubting  the  Scottish  earl's  acceptance 
of  such  a  son-in-law,  011  the  very  day  that  Wallace  marched 
towards  the  coast  De  Valence  sent  to  request  an  hour's  private 
audience  of  Lord  Mar.  He  could  not  then  grant  it;  but  ;.t 
noon  next  day  they  met  in  the  governor's  apartments. 

The  Southron,  without  much  preface,  opened  his  wishes,  and 
proifered  his  hand  for  the  Lady  Helen.  "  I  will  make  her  the 
proudest  lady  in  Great  Britain,'7  continued  he,  "for  she  shall 
have  a  court  in  my  Welsh  province  little  inferior  to  that  of 
Edward's  queen." 

"  Pomp  would  have  no  sway  with  my  daughter,"-  replied  the 
earl ;  "  it  is  the  princely  mind  'she  values,  not  its  pageantry. 
Whomsoever  she  prefers,  the  tribute  will  be  paid  to  the  merit 
of  the  object,  not  to  his  rank ;  and  therefore,  earl,  should  it  be 
you,  the  greater  will  be  your  pledge  of  happiness.  I  shall 
repeat  to  her  what  you  have  said,  and  to-morrow  deliver  her 
answer." 

Not  deeming  it  possible  that  it  should  be  otherwise  than 
favorable,  De  Valence  allowed  his  imagination  to  roam  over 
every  anticipated  delight.  He  exulted  in  the  pride  with  which 
he  would  show  this  perfection  of  northern  beauty  to  the  fair 
of  England  ;  how  would  the  simple  graces  of  her  seraphic  form, 
which  looked  more  like  a  being  of  air  than  of  earth,  put  to 
shame  the  labored  beauties  of  the  court.  And  then  it  was  not 
only  the  artless  charms  of  a  wood-nymph  he  should  present  to 
the  wondering  throng,  but  a  being  whose  majesty  of  soul 
proclaimed  her  high  descent  and  peerless  virtues.  How  did 
he  congratulate  himself,  in  contemplating  this  unsullied  temple 
of  virgin  innocence,  that  he  had  never,  by  even  the  vapor  of 
one  impassioned  sigh,  contaminated  her  pure  ear,  or  broken 
the  magic  spell  which  seemed  fated  to  crown  him  with  happi- 
ness unknown,  with  honor  unexampled.  To  be  so  blessed,  so 
distinguished,  so  envied,  was  to  him  a  dream  of  triumph,  that 
wafted  away  all  remembrance  of  his  late  defeat ;  and,  he 
believed,  in  taking  Helen  from  Scotland,  he  should  bear  away 
a  richer  prize  than  any  he  could  leave  behind. 

Full  of  these  anticipations,  he  attended  the  Governor  of 
Stirling  the  next  day,  to  hear  his  daughter's  answer.  But  un- 
willing to  give  the  earl  that  advantage  over  him  which  a 
knowledge  of  his  views  in  the  marriage  might  occasion,  he 


298  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

butcted  a  composure  he  did  not  feel,  and  with  a  lofty  air 
inhered  the  room,  as  if  he  were  come  rather  to  confer  than  to 
pLg  a  favor.  This  deportment  did  not  lessen  the  satisfaction 
irith  which  the  brave  Scot  opened  his  mission. 

"  My  lord,  I  have  just  seen  my  daughter.  She  duly  appre- 
ciates the  honor  you  would  confer  on  her ;  she  is  grateful  for 
all  your  courtesies  whilst  she  was  your  prisoner;  but  beyond 
that  sentiment,  her  heart,  attached  to  her  native  land,  cannot 
sympathize  with  your  wishes." 

De  Valence  started.  He  did  not  expect  anything  in  the 
shape  of  a  denial ;  but  supposing  that  perhaps  a  little  of  his 
own  art  was  tried  by  the  father  to  enhance  the  value  of  his 
daughter's  yielding,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  affect- 
ing chagrin  at  a  disappointment  which  he  did  not  believe  was 
seriously  intended,  exclaimed  with  vehemence,  "  Surely,  Lord 
Mar,  this  is  not  meant  as  a  refusal  ?  I  cannot  receive  it  as 
such,  for  I  know  Lady  Helen's  gentleness.  I  know  the  sweet, 
tenderness  of  her  nature  would  plead  for  me  were  she  to  see 
me  at  her  feet  and  hear  me  pour  forth  the  most  ardent  passion 
that  ever  burnt  in  a  human  breast.  Oh,  my  gracious  lord !  if  it 
be  her  attachment  to  Scotland  which  alone  militates  against 
me,  I  will  promise  that  her  time  shall  be  passed  between  the 
two  countries.  Her  marriage  with  me  may  facilitate  that  peace 
with  England  which  must  be  the  wish  of  us  all,  and  perhaps 
the  lord  wardenship,  which  De  Warenne  now  holds,  may  be 
transferred  to  me.  I  have  reasons  for  expecting  that  it  will 
be  so ;  and  then  she,  as  a  queen  in  Scotland,  and  you  as  her 
father,  may  claim  every  distinction  from  her  fond  husband, 
every  indulgence  for  the  Scots,  which  your  patriot  heart  can 
dictate.  This  would  be  a  certain  benefit  to  Scotland,  while  the 
ignis  fatuus  you  are  now  following,  however  brilliant  may  be 
its  career  during  Edward's  absence,  must  on  his  return  be  ex- 
tinguished in  disaster  and  infamy." 

The  silence  of  the  Earl  of  Mar,  who,  willing  to  hear  all  that 
was  in  the  mind  of  De  Valence,  had  let  him  proceed  uninter- 
rupted, encouraged  the  Southron  lord  to  say  more  than  he  had 
at  first  intended  to  reveal ;  but  when  he  made  a  pause,  and 
seemed  to  expect  an  answer,  the  earl  spoke : 

"  I  am  fully  sensible  of  the  honor  you  would  bestow  upon 
my  daughter  and  myself  by  your  alliance  ;  but,  as  I  have  said 
before,  her  heart  is  too  devoted  to  Scotland  to  marry  any  man 
whose  birth  does  not  make  it  his  duty  to  prefer  the  liberty  of 
her  native  land,  even  before  his  love  for  her.  That  hope,  to 
see  our  country  freed  from  a  yoke  unjustly  laid  upon  her,  — 


THE    GOVERNOR'S    APARTMENTS.  301 

that  hope,  which  you,  not  considering  our  rights,  or  weighing 
the  power  that  lies  in  a  just  cause,  denominate  an  ignis  fatuus, 
is  the  only  passion,  I  believe,  that  lives  in  the  gentle  bosom  of 
my  Helen,  and  therefore,  noble  earl,  not  even  your  offers  can 
equal  the  measures  of  her  wishes." 

At  this  speech  De  Valence  bit  his  lip  with  real  disappoint- 
ment, and  starting  from  his  chair,  now  in  unaffected  disorder, 
"  I  am  not  to  be  deceived,  Lord  Mar,"  cried  he.  "  I  am  not  to 
be  cajoled  by  the  pretended  patriotism  of  your  daughter ;  I 
know  the  sex  too  well  to  be  cheated  with  these  excuses.  The 
ifjnis  fatuus  that  leads  your  daughter  from  my  arms  is  not  the 
freedom  of  Scotland,  but  the  handsome  rebel  who  conquers  in 
its  name.  He  is  now  fortune's  minion ;  but  he  will  fall,  Lord 
Mar,  and  then  what  will  be  the  fate  of  his  mad  adherents  ?  " 

"Earl  de  Valence,"  replied  the  veteran,  "sixty  winters  have 
checked  the  tides  of  passion  in  -my  veins ;  but  the  indignation 
of  my  soul  against  any  insult  offered  to  my  daughter's  delicacy, 
or  to  the  name  of  the  lord  regent  of  Scotland,  is  not  less 
powerful  in  my  breast.  You  are  my  prisoner,  and  I  pardon 
what  I  could  so  easily  avenge.  I  will  even  answer  you,  and 
say,  that  I  do  not  know  of  any  exclusive  affection  subsisting 
between  my  daughter  and  Sir  William  Wallace ;  but  this  I  am 
assured  of,  that  were  it  the  case,  she  would  be  more  ennobled 
in  being  the  wife  of  so  true  a  patriot,  and  so  virtuous  a  man, 
than  were  she  advanced  to. the  bosom  of  an  emperor.  And  for 
myself,  were  he  to-morrow  hurled  by  a  mysterious  Providence 
from  his  present  nobly  won  elevation,  I  should  glory  in  my 
son,  were  he  such,  and  would  think  him  as  great  on  a  scaffold 
as  on  a  throne." 

"  It  is  well  that  is  your  opinion,"  replied  De  Valence,  stop- 
ping in  his  wrathful  strides,  and  turning  on  Mar  with  vengeful 
irony :  "  cherish  these  heroics,  for  you  will  assuredly  see  him  so 
exalted.  Then  where  will  be  his  triumphs  over  Edward's 
arms  and  Pembroke's  l  heart  ?  Where  your  daughter's  patriot 
husband,  your  glorious  son  ?  Start  not,  old  man,  —  for  by  all 
the  powers  of  hell  I  swear  that  some  eyes  which  now  look 
proudly  on  the  Southron  host  shall  close  in  blood  !  I  denounce 
a  fact ! " 

"If  you  do,"  replied  Mar,  shuddering  at  the  demoniac  fire 
that  lightened  from  the  countenance  of  De  Valence,  "  it  must 
be  by  the  agency  of  devils,  and  their  minister,  vindictive  earl, 
will  meet  the  vengeance  of  the  Eternal  arm." 

1  Lord  Aymer  de  Valence  was  Earl  of  Pembroke,  but  being  first  known  in  Scotland 
by  his  family  name,  in  that  kingdom  he  was  never  called  by  any  other.  —  (1809.) 


302  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  These  dreams,"  cried  De  Valence,  "  cannot  terrify  me 
You  are  neither  a  seer  nor  I  a  fool  to  be  taken  by  such  proph- 
ecies. But  were  you  wise  enough  to  embrace  the  advantage 
I  offer,  you  might  be  a  prophet  of  good,  greater  than  he  of 
Ercildown,  to  your  nation,  for  all  that  you  could  promise  I 
would  take  care  should  be  fulfilled.  But  you  cast  from  you 
your  peace  and  safety ;  my  vengeance  shall,  therefore,  take  its 
course.  I  rely  not  on  oracles  of  heaven  nor  hell,  but  I  have 
pronounced  the  doom  of  my  enemies ;  and  though  you  now  see 
me  a  prisoner,  tremble,  haughty  Scot,  at  the  resentment 
which  lies  in  this  head  and  heart !  This  arm,  perhaps,  needs 
not  the  armies  of  Edward  to  pierce  you  in  your  boast." 

He  left  the  room  as  he  spoke,  and  Lord  Mar,  shaking  his 
venerable  head  as  he  disappeared,  said  to  himself,  "  Impotent 
rage  of  passion  and  of  youth,  I  pity  and  forgive  you  !  " 

It  was  not,  therefore,  so  extraordinary  that  De  Valence, 
when  he  saw  Wallace  descending  the  Ochil  hills  with  the 
flying  banners  of  new  victories,  should  break  into  curses  of  his 
fortune,  and  swear  inwardly  the  most  determined  revenge. 

Fuel  was  added  to  this  fire  at  sunset  when  the  almost  meas- 
ureless defiles  of  prisoners  marshalled  before  the  ramparts  of 
Stirling,  and  taking  the  usual  oath  to  Wallace,  met  his  view. 

"  To-morrow  we  quit  these  dishonoring  walls,"  cried  he  to 
himself;  " but  ere  I  leave  them,  if  there  be  power  in  gold  or 
strength  in  my  arm,  he  shall  die  ! " 


CHAPTEE  XLI. 

THE    STATE-PRISON. 

THE  regent's  reentrance  into  the  citadel  of  Stirling  being 
on  the  evening  preceding  the  day  he  had  promised  should  see 
the  English  lords  depart  for  their  country,  De  Warenne,  as  a 
mark  of  respect  to  a  man  whom  he  could  not  but  regard  with 
admiration,  went  to  the  barbican-gate  to  bid  him  welcome. 

Wallace  appeared,  and  as  the  cavalcade  of  noble  Southrons 
who  had  lately  commanded  beyond  the  Tay  followed  him, 
Murray  glanced  his  eye  around  and  said  with  a  smile  to  De 
Warenne,  "  You  see,  Sir  Earl,  how  we  Scots  keep  our  word ! " 
and  then  he  added,  "  You  leave  Stirling  to-morrow,  but  these 
regain  till  Lord  Douglas  opens  their  prison-door *," 


THE    STATE-PRISON.  303 

"  I  cannot  but  acquiesce  in  the  justice  of  your  commander's 
determination,"  returned  De  Warenne;  "and  to  comfort  these 
gentlemen  under  their  captivity,  I  can  only  tell  them,  that  if 
anything  can  reconcile  them  to  the  loss  of  liberty,  it  is  being 
the  prisoners  of  Sir  William  Wallace." 

After  having  transferred  his  captives  to  the  charge  of  Lord 
Mar,  Wallace  went  alone  to  the  chamber  of  Montgomery  to 
see  whether  the  state  of  his  wounds  would  allow  him  to  inarch 
on  the  morrow.  While  he  was  yet  there  an  invitation  arrived 
from  the  Countess  of  Mar,  requesting  his  presence  at  an  en- 
tertainment which,  by  her  husband's  consent,  she  meant  to 
give  that  night  at  Snawdoun  to  the  Southron  lords,  before 
their  departure  for  England. 

"  I  fear  you  dare  not  expend  your  strength  on  this  party  ?  " 
inquired  Wallace,  turning  to  Montgomery. 

"  Certainly  not,"  returned  he  ;  "  but  I  shall  see  you  amidst 
your  noble  friends  at  some  future  period.  When  the  peace 
your  arms  must  win  is  established  between  the  two  nations,  I 
shall  then  revisit  Scotland,  and  openly  declare  my  friendship 
for  Sir  William  Wallace." 

"  As  these  are  your  sentiments,"  replied  Wallace,  "  I  shall 
hope  that  you  will  unite  your  influence  with  that  of  the  brave 
Earl  of  Gloucester  to  persuade  your  king  to  stop  this  blood- 
shed, for  it  is  no  vain  boast  to  declare  that  he  may  bury  Scot- 
land beneath  her  slaughtered  sons,  but  they  never  will  again 
consent  to  acknowledge  any  right  in  a  usurper." 

"  Sanguinary  have  been  the  instruments  of  my  sovereign's 
rule  in  Scotland,"  replied  Montgomery ;  "  but  such  cruelty  is 
foreign  from  his  gallant  heart ;  and  without  offending  that 
high-souled  patriotism  which  would  make  me  revere  its  pos- 
sessor, were  he  the  lowliest  man  in  your*  legions,  allow  me, 
noblest  of  Scots,  to  plead  one  word  in  vindication  of  him  to 
whom  my  allegiance  is  pledged.  Had  he  come  hither,  con- 
ducted by  war  alone,  what  would  Edward  have  been  worse 
than  any  other  conqueror  ?  But  on  the  reverse,  was  not  his 
right  to  the  supremacy  of  Scotland  acknowledged  by  the 
princes  who  contended  for  the  crown  ?  and  besides,  did  not 
all  the  great  lords  swear  fealty  to  England  on  the  day  he 
nominated  their  king  ?  " 

"Had  you  not  been  under  these  impressions,  brave  Mont- 
gomery, I  believe  I  never  should  have  seen  you  in  arms 
against  Scotland ;  but  I  will  remove  them  by  a  simple  answer. 
All  the  princes  whom  you  speak  of,  excepting  Bruce,  of  An- 
nandale,  did  assent  to  the  newly  offered  claim  of  Edward  on 


304  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Scotland ;  but  who  amongst  them  had  any  probable  chance  for 
the  throne  but  Bruce  and  Baliol  ?  Such  ready  acquiescence  was 
meant  to  create  them  one.  Bruce,  conscious  of  his  inherent 
rights,  rejected  the  iniquitous  demand  of  Edward ;  Baliol  ac- 
corded with  it,  and  was  made  a  king.  '  All  our  chiefs  who 
were  base  enough  to  worship  the  rising  sun,  and,  I  may  say, 
contemn  the  God  of  truth,  swore  to  the  falsehood.  Others 
remained  gloomily  silent ;  and  the  bravest  of  them  retired  to 
the  Highlands,  where  they  dwelt  amongst  their  mountains,  till 
the  cries  of  Scotland  called  them  again  to  fight  her  battles. 

"Thus  did  Edward  establish  himself  as  the  liege  lord  of 
this  kingdom,  and  whether  the  oppression  which  followed 
were  his  or  his  agent's  immediate  acts  it  matters  not,  for  he 
made  them  his  own  by  his  after-conduct.  When  remonstrances 
were  sent  to  London,  he  neither  punished  nor  reprimanded 
the  delinquents,  but  marched  an  armed  force  into  our  country 
to  compel  us  to  be  .trampled  on.  It  was  not  an  Alexander,  nor 
a  Charlemagne,  coming  in  his  strength  to  subdue  ancient 
enemies,  or  to  aggrandize  his  name  by  vanquishing  nations 
far  remote  with  whom  he  could  have  no  particular  affinity. 
Terrible  as  such  ambition  was,  it  is  innocence  to  what  Edward 
has  done.  He  came,  in  the  first  instance,  to  Scotland  as  a 
friend;  the  nation  committed  its  dearest  interests  to  his 
virtue ;  they  put  their  hands  into  his,  and  he  bound  them  in 
shackles.  Was  this  honor  ?  Was  this  the  right  of  conquest  ? 
The  cheek  of  Alexander  would  have  blushed  deep  as  his 
Tyrian  robe,  and  the  face  of  Charlemagne  turned  pale  as  his 
lilies,  at  the  bare  suspicion  of  being  capable  of  such  a  deed. 

"No,  Lord  Montgomery,  it  is  not  our  conqueror  we  are 
opposing;  it  is  a_ traitor,  who,  under  the  mask  of  friend- 
ship, has  attempted  to  usurp  our  rights,  destroy  our  liberties, 
and  make  a  desert  of  our  once  happy  country.  This  is  the 
true  statement  of  the  case,  and  though  I  wish  not  to  make  a 
subject  outrage  his  sovereign,  yet  truth  demands  of  you  to 
say  to  Edward  that  to  withdraw  his  pretensions  from  this 
exhausted  country  is  the  restitution  we  may  justly  claim,  is 
all  that  we  wish.  Let  him  leave  us  in  peace,  and  we  shall  no 
longer  make  war  upon  him.  But  if  he  persist  (which  the 
ambassadors  from  the  Prince  of  Wales  denounce),  even  as 
Samson  drew  the  temple  on  himself  to  destroy  his  enemies, 
Scotland  will  discharge  itself  upon  the  valleys  of  England, 
and  there  compel  them  to  share  the  fate  in  which  we  may^be 
doomed  to  perish." 

"I  will  think   of  this   discourse,"  returned  Montgomery. 


THE    STATE-PRISON.  305 

"when  I  am  far  distant,  and  rely  on  it,  noble  Wallace,  that 
I  will  assert  the  privilege  of  my  birth,  and  counsel  my  king  as 
becomes  an  honest  man." 

"  Highly  would  he  estimate  such  counsel,"  cried  Wallace, 
"  had  he  virtue  to  feel  that  he  who  will  not  be  unjust  to 
his  sovereign's  enemies  must  be  of  an  honor  that  will  bind  him 
with  double  fidelity  to  his  king.  Such  proof  give  your  sov- 
ereign ;  and  if  he  have  one  spark  of  that  greatness  of  mind 
which  you  say  he  possesses,  though  he  may  not  adopt  your 
advice,  he  must  respect  the  adviser." 

As  Wallace  pressed  the  hand  of  his  new  friend  to  leave  him 
to  repose,  a  messenger  entered  from  Lord  Mar  to  request  the 
regent's  presence  in  his  closet.  He  found  him  with  Lord  de 
Warenne. 

The  latter  presented  him  with  another  despatch  from  the 
Prince  of  Wales.  It  was  to  say  that  news  had  reached  him 
of  Wallace's  design  to  attack  the  castles  garrisoned  by  Eng- 
land on  the  eastern  coast.  Should  this  information  prove 
true,  he  (the  Prince)  declared  that  as  a  punishment  for  such 
increasing  audacity  he  would  put  Lord  Douglas  into  closer 
confinement,  and  while  the  Southron  fleets  would  inevitably 
baffle  Wallace's  attempts,  the  moment  the  exchange  of 
prisoners  was  completed  on  the  borders  an  army  from 
England  should  enter  Scotland  and  ravage  it  with  fire  and 
sword. 

When  Wallace  had  heard  this  despatch,  he  smiled  and  said, 
"  The  deed  is  done,  my  Lord  de  Warenne.  Both  the  castles 
and  the  fleets  are  taken ;  and  what  punishment  must  we  now 
expect  from  this  terrible  threatener  ?  " 

"  Little  from  him  or  his  headlong  counsellors,"  replied 
De  Warenne ;  "  but  Thomas,  Earl  of  Lancaster,  the  king's 
nephew,  is  come  from  abroad  with  a  numerous  army.  He 
is  to  conduct  the  Scottish  prisoners  to  the  borders,  and  then 
to  fall  upon  Scotland  with  all  his  strength,  unless  you  pre- 
viously surrender  not  only  Berwick;  but  Stirling,  and  the 
whole  of  the  district  between  the  Forth  and  the  Tweed,  into 
his  hands." 

"  My  Lord  de  Warenne,"  replied  Wallace,  "  you  can  expect 
but  one  return  to  these  absurd  demands.  I  shall  accompany 
you  myself  to  the  Scottish  borders,  and  there  make  my 
reply." 

De  Warenne,  who  did  indeed  look  for  this  answer,  replied : 
*:I  anticipated  that  such  would  be  your  determination,  and  I 
have  to  regret  that  the  wild  counsels  which  surround  my 
VOL.  I.— 20 


306  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

prince  precipitate  him  into  conduct  which  must  draw  much 
blood  on  both  sides,  before  his  royal  father's  presence  can 
regain  what  he  has  lost." 

"  Ah,  my  lord ! "  replied  Wallace,  "  is  it  to  be  nothing  but 
war  ?  Have  you  now  a  stronghold  of  any  force  in  all  the 
Highlands  ?  Is  not  the  greater  part  of  the  Lowlands  free  ? 
and  be  fore"  this  day  month  not  a  rood  of  land  in  Scotland  is 
likely  to  hold  a  Southron  soldier.  We  conquer,  but  it  is  for 
our  own.  Why  then  this  unreceding  determination  to  in- 
vade us  ?  Not  a  blade  of  grass  would  I  disturb  on  the  other 
side  of  Cheviot  if  we  might  have  peace.  Let  Edward  yield  us 
that,  and  though  he  has  pierced  us  with  many  wounds,  we  will 
yet  forgive  him." 

De  Warenne  shook  his  head.  "  I  know  my  king  too  well  to 
expect  pacific  measures.  He  may  die  with  the  sword  in  his 
hand,  but  he  will  never  grant  an  hour's  repose  to  this  country 
till  it  submits  to  his  sceptre." 

"  Then,"  replied  Wallace,  "  the  sword  must  be  the  portion  of 
him  and  his  !  —  ruthless  tyrant !  If  the  blood  of  Abel  called 
for  vengeance  on  his  murderer,  what  must  be  the  phials  of 
wrath  which  are  reserved  for  thee  ?  " 

A  flush  overspread  the  face  of  De  Warenne  at  this  apos- 
trophe, and  forcing  a  smile,  "This  strict  notion  of  right," 
said  he,  "  is  very  well  in  declamation,  but  how  would  it  crop 
the  wings  of  conquerors  and  shorten  the  warrior's  arm  did 
they  measure  by  this  rule  ! " 

"  How  would  it,  indeed  !  "  replied  Wallace ;  "  and  that  they 
should  is  most  devoutly  to  be  wished.  All  warfare  that  is 
not  defensive  is  criminal,  and  he  who  draws  his  sword  to 
oppress  or  merely  to  aggrandize  is  a  murderer  and  a  robber. 
This  is  the  plain  truth,  Lord  de  Warenne." 

"  I  have  never  considered  it  in  that  light,"  returned  the 
earl,  "  nor  shall  I  turn  philosopher  now.  I  revere  your  prin- 
ciple, Sir  William  Wallace,  but  it  is  too  sublime  to  be  mine. 
Nay,  nor  would  it  be  politic  for  one  who  holds  his  posses- 
sions in  England  by  the  right  of  conquest  to  question  the 
virtue  of  the  deed.  By  the  sword  my  ancestors  gained  their 
estates,  and  with  the  sword  I  have  no  objection  to  extend  my 
territories." 

Wallace  now  saw  that  De  Warenne,  though  a  man  of 
honor,  was  not  one  of  virtue.  Though  his  amiable  nature 
made  him  gracious  in  the  midst  of  hostility,  and  his  good  dis- 
positions would  not  allow  him  to  act  disgracefully  in  any  con- 
cern, yet  duty  to  God  seemed  a  poet's  flight  to  him.  Educated 


CHAPEL    IN   SNAWDOUN.  307 

in  the  forms  of  religion,  without  knowing  its  spirit,  he  de- 
spised them,  and  believing  the  Deity  too  wise  to  be  affected 
by  mere  virtuous  shows  of  any  kind,  his  ignorance  of  the  sub- 
lime benevolence,  which  disdains  not  to  provide  food  even  for 
the  "  sparrow  ere  it  falls,"  made  him  think  the  Creator  of  all 
too  great  to  care  about  the  actions  of  men ;  hence,  being  with- 
out the  true  principles  of  good,  virtue,  as  virtue,  was  nonsense 
to  Earl  de  Warenne. 

Wallace  did   not   answer  his   remark,  and  the   conference 
soon  closed. 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

CHAPEL    IN   SNAWDOUN. 

THOUGH  burning  with  stifled  passions,  Earl  de  Valence 
accepted  the  invitation  of  Lady  Mar.  He  hoped  to  see 
Helen,  to  gain  her  ear  for  a  few  minutes,  and,  above  all,  to 
find  some  opportunity,*  during  the  entertainment,  of  taking 
his  meditated  revenge  on  Wallace.  The  dagger  seemed  the 
surest  way,  for,  could  he  render  the  blow  effectual,  he  should 
not  only  destroy  the  rival  of  his  wishes,  but  by  ridding  his 
monarch  of  a  powerful  foe  deserve  every  honor  at  the  royal 
hands.  Love  and  ambition  again  swelled  his  breast,  and  with 
recovered  spirits  and  a  glow  on  his  countenance,  which  reawak- 
ened hope  had  planted  there,  he  accompanied  De  Warenne  to 
the  palace. 

The  hall  for  the  feast  was  arrayed  with  feudal  grandeur. 
The  seats  at  the  table  spread  for  the  knights  of  both  coun- 
tries were  covered  with  highly  wrought  stuffs,  while  the  em- 
blazoned banners  and  other  armorial  trophies  of  the  nobles 
being  hung  aloft,  according  to  the  degree  of  the  owner,  each 
knight  saw  his  precedence  and  where  to  take  his  place.  The 
most  costly  meats,  with  the  royally  attired  peacock,  served 
up  in  silver  and  gold  dishes,  and  wine  of  the  rarest  quality 
sparkled  on  the  board.  During  the  repast  two  choice  min- 
strels were  seated  in  the  gallery  above,  to  sing  the  friend- 
ship of  King  Alfred,  of  England,  with  Gregory  the  Great,  of 
Caledonia.  The  squires  and  other  military  attendants  of  the 
nobles  present  were  placed  at  tables  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
hall,  and  served  with  courteous  hospitality. 

Resentful  alike  at  his  captivity  and  thwarted  passion,  De 


308  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Valence  had  hitherto  refused  to  show  himself  beyond  the 
ramparts  of  the  citadel,  he  was  therefore  surprised  on  entering 
the  hall  at  Snawdoun  with  De  Warenne  to  see  such  regal 
pomp,  and  at  the  command  of  the  woman  who  had  so  lately 
been  his  prisoner  at  Dumbarton,  and  whom  (because  she  re- 
sembled an  English  lady  who  had  rejected  him)  he  had  treated 
with  the  most  rigorous  contempt.  Forgetting  these  indignities 
in  the  pride  of  displaying  her  present  consequence,  Lady  Mai- 
came  forward  to  receive  her  illustrious  guests.  Her  dress  cor- 
responded with  the  magnificence  of  "the  banquet;  a  robe  of 
cloth  of  Baudkins  enriched,  while  it  displayed  the  beauties  of 
her  person,  her  wimple  blazed  with  jewels,  and  a  superb  car- 
kanet  emitted  its  various  rays  from  her  bosom.1 

De  Warenne  followed  her  with  his  eyes  as  she  moved  from 
him.  With  an  unconscious  sigh  he  whispered  De  Valence, 
"  What  a  land  is  this,  where  all  the  women  are  fair,  and  the  men 
all  brave ! " 

"  I  wish  that  it  and  all  its  men  and  women  were  in  perdi- 
tion ! "  returned  De  Valence,  in  a  fierce  tone.  Lady  Euthven, 
entering  with  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  neighboring  chief- 
tains, checked  the  further  expression  pf  his  wrath,  and  his  eyes 
sought  amongst  them,  but  in  vain,  for  Helen. 

The  chieftains  of  the  Scottish  army,  with  the  Lords  Buchan 
and  March,  were  assembled  around  the  countess  at  the  moment 
a  shout  from  the  populace  without  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
regent.  His  noble  figure  was  now  disencumbered  of  armor, 
and  with  no  more  sumptuous  garb  than  the  simple  plaid  of  his 
country,  he  appeared  effulgent  in  manly  beauty  and  the  glory 
of  his  recent  deeds.  De  Valence  frowned  heavily  as  he  looked 
on  him,  and  thanked  his  fortunate  stars  that  Helen  was  absent 
from  sharing  the  admiration  which  seemed  to  animate  every 
breast.  The  eyes  of  Lady  Mar  at  once  told  the  impassioned 
De  Valence,  too  well  read  in  the  like  expressions,  what  were  her 
sentiments  toward  the  young  regent,  and  the  blushes  and  eager 
civilities  of  the  ladies  around  displayed  how  much  they  were 
struck  with  the  now  fully  discerned  and  unequalled  graces  of 
his  person.  Lady  Mar  forgot  all  in  him.  And  indeed  so  much 
did  he  seem  the  idol  of  every  heart,  that  from  the  two  venerable 
Lords  of  Loch-awe  and  Bothwell,  to  the  youngest  man  in  the 

1  Cloth  of  Baudkins  was  one  of  the  richest  stuffs  worn  in  the  thirteenth  century.  It 
is  said  to  have  been  composed  of  silk  interwoven  with  gold.  According  to  Du  Cange, 
it  derived  its  name  from  Baldack,  the  modern  appellation  tor  Babylon,  or  rather  Bagdat, 
where  it  was  first  manufactured.  Wimple  was  a  head-dress  of  the  times;  it  resembled 
a  veil,  not  worn  flowing,  but  in  curious  folds  upon  the  head.  The  carkanet  was  a  large 
broad  necklace  of  precious  stones  of  all  colors,  set  in  various  shapes,  and  fastened  by 
gold  links  into  each  other.  —  (1809.) 


CHAPEL    IN   SNAWDOUN.  309 

company,  all  ears  hung  on  his  words,  all  eyes  upon  his  counte- 
nance. 

The  entertainment  was  conducted  with  every  regard  to  that 
chivalric  courtesy  which  a  noble  conqueror  always  pays  to  the 
vanquished.  Indeed,  from  the  wit  and  pleasantry  which  passed 
from  the  opposite  sides  of  the  tables,  and  in  which  the  ever 
gay  Murray  was  the  leader,  it  rather  appeared  a  convivial 
meeting  of  friends  than  an  assemblage  of  mortal  foes.  During 
the  banquet  the  bards  sung  legends  of  the  Scottish  worthies, 
who  had  brought  honor  to  their  nation  in  days  of  old,  and  as 
the  board  was  cleared  they  struck  at  once  into  a  full  chorus. 
Wallace  caught  the  sound  of  his  own  name  accompanied  with 
epithets  of  extravagant  praise  ;  he  rose  hastily  from  his  chair 
and  with  his  hand  motioned  them  to  cease.  They  obeyed ;  but 
Lady  Mar  remonstrating  with  him,  he  smilingly  said  it  was  an 
ill  omen  to  sing  a  warrior's  actions  till  he  were  incapable  of 
performing  more,  and  therefore  he  begged  she  would  excuse 
him  from  hearkening  to  his. 

"  Then  let  us  change  their  strains  to  a  dance,"  replied  the 
countess. 

"  A  hall !  a  hall ! "  exclaimed  Murray,  springing  from  his 
seat,  delighted  with  the  proposal. 

"I  have  no  objection,"  answered  Wallace;  and  putting  the 
hand  she  presented  to  him  into  that  of  Lord  de  Warenne,  he 
added,  "  I  am  not  of  a  sufficiently  gay  temperament  to  grace 
the  change ;  but  this  earl  may  not  have  the  same  reason  for 
declining  so  fair  a  challenge." 

Lady  Mar  colored  with  mortification,  for  she  had  thought 
that  Wallace  would  not  venture  to  refuse  before  so  many ;  but 
following  the  impulse  of  De  Warenne's  arm,  she  proceeded  to 
the  other  end  of  the  hall,  where,  by  Murray's  quick  arrange- 
ment, the  younger  lords  of  both  countries  had  already  singled 
out  ladies,  and  were  marshalled  for  the  dance. 

As  the  hours  moved  on,  the  spirits  of  Wallace  subsided  from 
their  usual  cheering  tone  into  a  sadness  which  he  thought 
might  be  noticed,  and  wishing  to  escape  observation  (for  he 
could  not  explain  to  those  gay  ones  why  scenes  like  these  ever 
made  him  sorrowful),  and  whispering  to  Mar  that  he  would 
go  for  an  hour  to  visit  Montgomery,  he  withdrew,  unnoticed 
by  all  but  his  watchful  enemy. 

De  Valence,  who  hovered  about  his  steps,  had  heard  him  in- 
quire of  Lady  Ruthven  why  Helen  was  not  present.  He  was 
within  hearing  of  this  whisper  also,  and  with  a  satanic  joy 
the  dagger  shook  in  his  hand.  He  knew  that  Wallace  had 


310  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

many  a  solitary  place  to  pass  between  Snawdoun  and  the  cit« 
adel ;  and  the  company  being  too  pleasantly  absorbed  to  mark 
who  entered  or  disappeared,  he  took  an  opportunity  and  stole 
out  after  him. 

But  for  once  the  impetuous  fury  of  hatred  met  a  temporary 
disappointment.  While  De  Valence  was  cowering  like  a  thief 
under  the  eaves  of  the  houses,  and  prowling  along  the  lonely 
paths  to  the  citadel,  while  he  started  at  every  noise,  as  if 
it  came  to  apprehend  him  for  his  meditated  deed,  or  rushed 
forward  at  the  sight  of  any  solitary  passenger,  whom  his  eager 
vengeance  almost  mistook  for  Wallace,  Wallace  himself  had 
taken  a  different  track. 

As  he  walked  through  the  illuminated  archways  which  led 
from  the  hall  he  perceived  a  darkened  passage.  Hoping  by 
that  avenue  to  quit  the  palace  unobserved,  he  immediately 
struck  into  it ;  for  he  was  aware  that  should  he  go  the  usual 
way,  the  crowd  at  the  gate  would  recognize  him,  and  he  could 
not  escape  their  acclamations.  He  followed  the  passage  for 
a  considerable  time,  and  at  last  was  stopped  by  a  door.  It 
yielded  to  his  hand,  and  he  found  himself  at  the  entrance  of  a 
large  building.  He  advanced,  and  passing  a  high  screen  of 
carved  oak,  by  a  dim  light  which  gleamed  from  waxen  tapers 
on  the  altar,  he  perceived  it  to  be  the  chapel. 

"  A  happy  transition,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  from  the  jubi- 
lant scene  I  have  now  left,  from  the  grievous  scenes  I  have 
lately  shared !  Here,  gracious  God,"  thought  he,  "  may  I, 
unseen  by  any  other  eye,  pour  out  my  heart  to  thee.  And 
here,  before  thy  footstool,  will  I  declare  my  thanksgiving  for 
thy  mercies,  and  with  my  tears  wash  from  my  soul  the  blood 
I  have  been  compelled  to  shed." 

While  advancing  towards  the  altar  he  was  startled  by  a 
voice  proceeding  from  the  quarter  whither  he  was  going, 
and  with  low  and  gently  breathed  fervor  uttering  these 
words :  "  Defend  him,  Heavenly  Father !  Defend  him,  day 
and  night,  from  the  devices  of  this  wicked  man,  and,  above 
all,  during  these  hours  of  revelry  and  confidence  guide  his 
unshielded  breast  from  treachery  and  death."  The  voice' 
faltered,  and  added  with  greater  agitation,  "Ah,  unhappy 
me,  that  I  should  be  the  cause  of  danger  to  the  hope  of 
Scotland  ;  that  I  should  pluck  peril  on  the  head  of  William 
Wallace ! "  A  figure,  which  had  been  hidden  by  the  rails  of 
the  altar,  with  these  words  rose,  and  stretching  forth  her 
clasped  hands,  exclaimed,  "But  Thou  who  knowest  I  had  no 
blame  in  this,  will  not  afflict  me  by  his  danger!  Thou  wilt 
deliver  him,  0  God,  out  of  the  hand  of  this  cruel  foe ! " 


CHAPEL    IN    SNAWDOUN.  311 

Wallace  was  not  more  astonished  at  hearing  that  some 
one  in  whom  he  reposed  was  his  secret  enemy,  than  at 
seeing  Lady  Helen  in  that  place  at  that  hour,  and  address- 
ing Heaven  for  him.  There  was  something  so  celestial  in 
the  maid  as  she  stood  in  her  white  robes,  true  emblems  of 
her  own  innocence,  before  the  divine  footstool,  that  although 
her  prayers  were  delivered  with  a  pathos  which  told  they 
sprang  from  a  heart  more  than  commonly  interested  in  their 
object,  yet  every  word  and  look  breathed  so  eloquently  the 
virgin  purity  of  her  soul,  the  hallowed  purpose  of  her  peti- 
tions, that  Wallace,  drawn  by  the  sympathy  with  which  kin- 
dred virtues  ever  attract  spirit  to  spirit,  did  not  hesitate  to 
discover  himself.  He  stepped  from  the  shadow  which  in- 
volved him.  The  pale  light  of  the  tapers  shone  upon  his 
advancing  figure.  Helen's  eyes  fell  upon  him  as  she  turned 
round.  She  was  transfixed  and  silent.  He  moved  forward. 
"Lady  Helen,"  said  he,  in  a  respectful  and  even  tender  voice. 
At  the  sound,  a  fearful  rushing  of  shame  seemed  to  over- 
whelm her  faculties,  for  she  knew  not  how  long  he  might 
have  been  in  the  church,  and  that  he  had  not  heard  her 
beseech  Heaven  to  make  him  less  the  object  of  her  thoughts. 
She  sunk  on  her  knees  beside  the  altar  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

The  action,  the  confusion,  might  have  betrayed  her  secret 
to  Wallace.  But  he  only  thought  of-  her  pious  invocations 
for  his  safety,  he  only  remembered  that  it  was  she  who  had 
given  a  holy  grave  to  the  only  woman  he  could  ever  love,  and 
full  of  gratitude,  as  a  pilgrim  would  approach  a  saint  he  drew 
near  to  her.  "Holiest  of  earthly  maids,"  said  he,  kneeling 
down  beside  her,  "  in  this  lonely  hour,  in  the  sacred  presence 
of  Almighty  Purity,  receive  my  soul's  thanks  for  the  prayers 
I  have  this  moment  heard  you  breathe  for  me  !  They  are 
more  precious  to  me,  Lady  Helen,  than  the  generous  plaudits 
of  my  country.  They  are  a  greater  reward  to  me  than  would 
have  been  the  crown  with  which  Scotland  sought  to  endow 
me,  for  do  they  not  give  me  what  all  the  world  cannot,  —  the 
protection  of  Heaven  !  " 

"  I  would  pray  for  it,"  softly  answered  Helen,  but  not  ven- 
turing to  look  up. 

"The  prayer  of  meek  goodness  we  know  'availeth  much/ 
Continue,  then,  to  offer  up  that  incense  for  me,"  added  he, 
u  and  I  shall  march  forth  to-morrow  with  redoubled  strength, 
for  I  shall  think,  holy  maid,  that  I  have  yet  a  Marion  to  pray 
for  me  on  earth  as  well  as  one  in  heaven." 


312  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Lady  Helen's  heart  beat  at  these  words,  but  it  was  with 
no  unhallowed  emotion.  She  withdrew  her  hands  from  her 
face,  and  clasping  them  looked  up.  "  Marion  will  indeed 
echo  all  my  prayers,  and  He  who  reads  my  heart  will,  I  trust, 
grant  them.  They  are  for  your  life,  Sir  William  Wallace," 
added  she,  turning  to  him  with  agitation,  "for  it  is  men- 
aced." 

"  I  will  inquire  by  whom,"  answered  he,  "  when  I  have  first 
paid  my  duty  at  this  altar  for  guarding  it  so  long.  And  dare 
I,  daughter  of  goodness,  to  ask  you  to  unite  the  voice  of  your 
gentle  spirit  with  the  secret  one  of  mine  ?  I.  would  beseech 
Heaven  for  pardon  on  my  own  transgressions ;  I  would  ask  its 
mercy  to  establish  the  liberty  of  Scotland.  Pray  with  me,  Lady 
Helen,  and  the  invocations  our  souls  utter  will  meet  the 
promise  of  Him  who  said,  '  Where  two  or  three  are  joined  to- 
gether in  prayer,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them.'  r> 

Helen  looked  on  him  with  a  holy  smile,  and  pressing  the  cru- 
cifix which  she  held  to  her  lips,  bowed  her  head  on  it  in  mute 
assent.  Wallace  threw  himself  prostrate  on  the  steps  of  the 
altar,  and  the  fervor  of  his  sighs  alone  breathed  to  his  com- 
panion the  deep  devotion  of  his  soul.  How  the  time  past  he 
knew  not,  so  was  he  absorbed  in  the  communion  which  his 
spirit  held  in  heaven  with  the  most  gracious  of  beings.  But 
the  bell  of  the  palace  striking  the  matin  hour,  reminded  him 
he  was  yet  on  earth,  and  looking  up  his  eyes  met  those  of 
Helen.  His  devotional  rosary  hung  on  his  arm ;  he  kissed  it. 
"  Wear  this,  holy  maid,"  said  he,  "  in  remembrance  of  this 
hour."  She  bowed  her  fair  neck,  and  he  put  the  consecrated 
chain  over  it.  "  Let  it  bear  witness  to  a  friendship,"  added  he, 
clasping  her  hands  in  his,  "  which  will  be  cemented  by  eternal 
ties  in  heaven." 

Helen  bent  her  face  upon  his  hands ;  he  felt  the  sacred  tears 
of  so  pure  a  compact  upon  them,  and  while  he  looked  up  as  if 
he  thought  the  spirit  of  his  Marion  hovered  near,  to  bless  a 
communion  so  remote  from  all  infringement  of  the  sentiment 
he  had  dedicated  forever  to  her,  Helen  raised  her  head,  and, 
with  a  terrible  shriek,  throwing  her  arms  around  the  body  of 
Wallace,  he  that  moment  felt  an  assassin's  steel  in  his  back, 
and  she  fell  senseless  on  his  breast.  He  started  on  his  feet ;  a 
dagger  fell  from  his  wound  to  the  ground,  but  the  hand  which 
had  struck  the  blow  he  could  nowhere  see.  To  search  further 
was  then  impossible,  for  Helen  lay  on  his  bosom  like  one  dead. 
Not  doubting  that  she  had  seen  his  assailant  and  fainted  from 
alarm,  he  was  laying  her  on  the  steps  of  the  altar,  that  he 


CHAPEL    IN   SNAWDOUN.  318 

might  bring  some  water  from  the  basin  of  the  chapel  to  re- 
cover her,  when  he  saw  that  her  arm  was  not  only  stained  with 
his  blood,  but  streaming  with  her  own.  The  dagger  had  gashed 
it  in  reaching  him. 

"  Execrable  villain !  "  cried  he,  turning  cold  at  the  sight,  and 
instantly  comprehending  that  it  was  to  defend  him  she  had 
thrown  her  arms  around  him,  he  exclaimed  in  a' voice  of  agony, 
"  Are  two  of  the  most  matchless  women  the  earth  ever  saw  to 
die  for  me  !  "  Trembling  with  alarm  and  renewed  grief,  for 
the  terrible  scene  of  Ellerslie  was  now  brought  in  all  its  horror 
before  him,  he  tore  off  her  veil  to  stanch  the  blood ;  but  the  cut 
was  too  wide  for  his  surgery,  and  losing  every  other  considera- 
tion in  fears  for  her  life,  he  again  took  her  in  his  arms  and  bore 
her  out  of  the  chapel.  He  hastened  through  the  dark  passage, 
and  almost  flying  along  the  lighted  galleries  entered  the  hall. 
The  noisy  fright  of  the  servants  as  he  broke  through  their 
ranks  at  the  door  alarmed  the  revellers,  and  turning  round,  what 
was  their  astonishment  to  behold  the  regent,  pale,  and  stream- 
ing with  blood,  bearing  in  his  arms  a  lady  apparently  life- 
less and  covered  with  the  same  dreadful  hue. 

Mar  instantly  recognized  his  daughter,  and  rushed  towards 
her  with  a  cry  of  horror.  Wallace  sunk  with  his  breathless 
load  upon  the  nearest  bench,  and  while  her  head  rested  upon 
his  bosom,  ordered  surgery  to  be  brought.  Lady  Mar  gazed  on 
the  spectre  with  a  benumbed  dismay.  None  present  durst  ask 
a  question,  till  a  priest  drawing  near  unwrapped  the  arm  of 
Helen  and  discovered  its  deep  wound. 

"  Who  has  done  this  ?  "  cried  her  father  to  Wallace,  with  all 
the  anguish  of  a  parent  in  his  countenance. 

"  I  know  not,"  replied  he ;  "  but  I  believe  some  villain  who 
aimed  at  my  life." 

"  Where  is  Lord  de  Valence  ? "  exclaimed  Mar,  suddenly 
recollecting  his  menaces  against  Wallace. 

"  I  am  here,"  replied  he  in  a  composed  voice.  "  Would  you 
have  me  seek  the  assassin  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  earl,  ashamed  of  his  suspicion ;  "  but 
there  has  been  some  foul  work,  and  my  daughter  is  slain ! " 

"  Oh,  not  so !  "  cried  Murray,  who  had  hurried  towards  the 
dreadful  group  and  knelt  at  her  side ;  "  she  will  not  die  —  so 
much  excellence  cannot  die ! "  A  stifled  groan  from  Wallace, 
accompanied  by  a  look,  told  Murray  that  he  had  known  the 
death  of  similar  excellence.  With  this  unanswerable  appeal 
the  young  chieftain  dropped  his  head  on  the  other  hand  of 
Helen,  and  could  any  one  have  seen  his  face,  buried  as  it  was 


314  THE   SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

in  her  robes,  they  would  have  beheld  tears  of  agony  drawn 
from  that  ever-gay  heart. 

The  wound  was  closed  by  the  aid  of  another  surgical  priest, 
who  had  followed  the  former  into  the  hall,  and  Helen  sighed 
convulsively.  At  this  intimation  of  recovery  the  priest  made 
all  —  excepting  those  who  supported  her  —  stand  back.  But, 
as  Lady  Mar  lingered  near  Wallace,  she  saw  the  paleness  of 
his  countenance  turn  to  a  ghastly  hue,  and  his  eyes  closing,  he 
sunk  back  on  the  bench.  Her  shrieks  now  resounded  through 
the  hall,  and  falling  into  hysterics,  she  was  taken  into  the 
gallery,  while  the  more  collected  Lady  Ruthven  remained,  to 
attend  the  victims  before  her. 

At  the  instant  Wallace  fell,  De  Valence,  losing  all  self-com- 
mand, caught  hold  of  De  Warenne's  arm,  and  whispering,  "  I 
thought  it  was  sure,  —  Long  live  King  Edward  !  "  rushed  out 
of  the  hall.  These  words  revealed  to  De  Warenne  who  was 
the  assassin ;  and  though  struck  to  the  soul  with  the  turpitude 
of  the  deed,  he  thought  the  honor  of  England  would  not  allow 
him  to  accuse  the  perpetrator,  and  lie  remained  silent. 

The  inanimate  body  of  Wallace  was  now  drawn  from  under 
that  of  Helen,  and  in  the  act  discovered  the  tapestry  seat 
clotted  with  blood,  and  the  regent's  back  bathed  in  the  same 
vital  stream.  Having  found  his  wound,  the  priests  laid  him 
on  the  ground,  and  were  administering  their  balsams  when 
Helen  opened  her  eyes.  Her  mind  was  too  strongly  possessed 
with  the  horror  which  had  entered  it  before  she  became  insen- 
sible to  lose  the  consciousness  of  her  fears ;  and  immediately 
looking  around  her  with  an  aghast  countenance,  her  sight  met 
the  outstretched  body  of  Wallace.  "  Oh  !  is  it  so  ! "  cried  she, 
throwing  herself  on  the  bosom  of  her  father.  He  understood 
what  she  meant.  "He  lives,  my  child!  but  he  is  wounded 
like  yourself.  Have  courage ;  revive,  for  his  sake  and  for 
mine." 

"  Helen !  Helen !  dear  Helen  ! "  cried  Murray,  clinging  to 
her  hand ;  "  while  you  live,  what  that  loves  you  can  die  ! " 

While  these  acclamations  surrounded  her  couch,  Edwin,  in 
speechless  apprehension,  supported  the  insensible  head  of' 
Wallace ;  and  De  Warenne,  inwardly  execrating  the  perfidy  of 
De  Valence,  knelt  down  to  assist  the  good  friars  in  their  office. 

A  few  minutes  longer,  and  the  stanched  blood  refluxing  to 
the  chieftain's  heart,  he  too  opened  his  eyes,  and  instantly 
turning  on  his  arm,  "  What  has  happened  to  me  ?  Where  is 
Lady  Helen  ?  "  demanded  he. 

At  his  voice,  which  aroused  Helen,  who,  believing  that  he  was 


CHAPEL    IN   SN AW DO  UN.  315 

indeed  dead,  was  relapsing  into  her  former  state,  she  could  only 
press  her  father's  hand  to  her  lips,  as  if  he  had  given  the  life 
she  so  valued,  and  bursting  into  a  shower  of  relieving  tears, 
breathed  out  her  rapturous  thanks  to  God.  Her  low  murmurs 
reached  the  ears  of  Wallace. 

The  dimness  having  left  his  eyes,  and  the  blood  (the  extreme 
loss  of  which,  from  his  great  agitations,  had  alone  caused  him 
to  swoon)  being  stopped  by  an  embalmed  bandage,  he  seemed 
to  feel  no  impediment  from  his  wound,  and  rising,  hastened  to 
the  side  of  Helen.  Lord  Mar  softly  whispered  his  daughter, 
"Sir  William  Wallace  is  at  your  feet,  my  dearest  child  j  look  on 
him  and  tell  him  that  you  live." 

"Lain  well,  my  father,"  returned  she,  in  a  faltering  voice; 
"  and  may  it  indeed  please  the  Almighty  to  preserve  him !  " 

"  I,  too,  am  alive  and  well,"  answered  Wallace ;  "  but  thanks 
to  God  and  to  you,  blessed  lady,  that  I  am  so  !  Had  not  that 
lovely  arm  received  the  greater  part  of  the  dagger,  it  must  have 
reached  my  heart." 

An  exclamation  of  horror  at  what  might  have  been,  burst  from 
the  lips  of  Edwin.  Helen  could  have  reechoed  it,  but  she 
now  held  her  feelings  under  too  severe  a  rein  to  allow  them  so 
to  speak." 

"Thanks  to  the  Protector  of  the  just,"  cried  she,  "for  your 
preservation!  who  raised  my  eyes  to  see  the  assassin!  His 
cloak  was  held  before  his  face  and  I  could  not  discern  it,  but  I 
saw  a  dagger  aimed  at  the  back  of  Sir  William  Wallace. 
How  I  caught  it  I  cannot  tell,  for  I  seemed  to  die  on  the  in- 
stant." 

Lady  Mar,  having  recovered,  reentered  the  hall  just  as  Wal- 
lace had  knelt  down  beside  Helen.  Maddened  with  the  sight 
of  the  man  on  whom  her  soul  doted  in  such  a  position  before 
her  rival,  she  advanced  hastily,  and  in  a  voice  which  she  vainly 
attempted  to  render  composed  and  gentle,  sternly  addressed 
her  daughter-in-law.  "  Alarmed  as  I  have  been  by  your  appar- 
ent danger,  I  cannot  but  be  uneasy  at  the  attendant  circum- 
stances ;  tell  me,  therefore,  and  satisfy  this  anxious  company, 
how  it  happened  that  you  should  be  with  the  regent  when  we 
supposed  you  an  invalid  in  your  room,  and  were  told  he  was 
gone  to  the  citadel  ?  " 

A  crimson  blush  overspread  the  cheeks  of  Helen  at  this 
question,  for  it  was  delivered  in  a  tone  which  insinuated  that 
something  more  than  accident  had  occasioned  their  meeting ; 
but  as  innocence  dictated  she  answered,  "I  was  in  the  chapel 
at  prayers.  Sir  William  Wallace  entered  with  the  same  design, 


316  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

and  at  the  moment  he  desired  me  to  mingle  mine  with  his,  this 
assassin  appeared,  and,"  she  repeated,  "  I  saw  his  dagger  raised 
against  our  protector,  and  I  saw  no  more." 

There  was  not  a  heart  present  that  did  not  give  credence  to 
this  account  but  the  polluted  one  of  Lady  Mar.  Jealousy  al- 
most laid  it  bare.  She  smiled  incredulously,  and  turning  to  the 
company,  "Our  noble  friends  will  accept  my  apology,  if  in  so 
delicate  an  investigation  I  should  beg  that  my  family  alone 
may  be"  present." 

Wallace  perceived  the  tendency  of  her  words,  and  not  doubt- 
ing the  impression  they  might  make  on  the  minds  of  men 
ignorant  of  the  virtues  of  Lady  Helen,  he  instantly  rose.  "  For 
once,"  cried  he,  "  I  must  counteract  a  lady's  orders.  It  is  my 
wish,  lords,  that  you  will  not  leave  this  place  till  I  explain  how 
I  came  to  disturb  the  devotions  of  Lady  Helen.  Wearied  with 
festivities  in  which  my  alienated  heart  cannot  share,  I  thought 
to  pass  an  hour  with  Lord  Montgomery  in  the  citadel,  and  in 
seeking  to  avoid  the  crowded  avenues  of  the  palace  I  entered 
the  chapel.  To  my  surprise  I  found  Lady  Helen  there.  I  heard 
her  pray  for  the  happiness  of  Scotland,  for  the  safety  of  her 
defenders,  and  my  mind  being  in  a  frame  to  join  in  such  peti- 
tions, I  apologized  for  my  unintentional  intrusion,  and  begged 
permission  to  mingle  my  devotions  with  hers.  Nay,  impressed 
and  privileged  by  the  sacredness  of  the  place,  I  presumed  still 
further,  and  before  the  altar  of  purity  poured  forth  my  grati- 
tude for  the  duties  she  had  paid  to  the  remains  of  my  murdered 
wife.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  assassin  appeared.  I 
heard  Lady  Helen  scream,  I  felt  her  head  on  my  breast,  and  at 
that  instant  the  dagger  entered  my  back. 

"  This  is  the  history  of  our  meeting ;  and  the  assassin, 
whosoever  he  may  be,  and  how  long  soever  he  was  in  the 
church  before  he  sought  to  perpetrate  the  deed,  were  he 
to  speak,  and  capable  of  uttering  truth,  could  declare  no 
other." 

"  But  where  is  he  to  be  found  ?  "  intemperately  and  suspi- 
ciously demanded  Lady  Mar. 

"  If  his  testimony  be  necessary  to  validate  mine,"  returned 
Wallace,  with  dignity,  "  I  believe  Lady  Helen  can  point  to  his 
name." 

"  Name  him,  Helen ;  name  him,  my  dear  cousin ! "  cried 
Murray;  "that  I  may  have  some  link  with  thee !  Oh,  let  me 
avenge  this  deed !  Tell  me  his  name,  and  so  yield  me  all  that 
thou  canst  now  bestow  011  Andrew  Murray  !  " 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  Murray's  voice  that 


THE    CARSE    OF   STIRLING.  317 

penetrated  to  the  heart  of  Helen.  "  I  cannot  name  him  whom 
I  suspect  to  any  but  Sir  William  Wallace,  and  I  would  not  do 
it  to  him,"  replied  she,  "were  it  not.  to  warn  him  against 
future  danger.  I  did  not  see  the  assassin's  face ;  therefore, 
how  dare  I  set  you  to  take  vengeance  on  one  who  perchance 
may  be  innocent  ?  I  forgive  him  my  blood,  since  Heaven  has 
spared  to  Scotland  its  protector's." 

"  If  he  be  a  Southron,"  cried  Baron  Hilton,  coming  forward, 
"  name  him,  gracious  lady,  and  I  will  answer  for  it  that  were 
he  the  son  of  a  king  he  would  meet  death  from  our  monarch 
for  this  unknightly  outrage." 

"  I  thank  your  zeal,  brave  chief,"  replied  she,  "  but  I  would 
not  abandon  to  certain  death  even  a  wicked  man.  May  he 
repent !  I  will  name  him  to  Sir  William  Wallace  alone ;  and 
when  he  knows  his  secret  enemy,  the  vigilance  of  his  own 
honor,  I  trust,  will  be  his  guard.  Meanwhile,  my  father,  I 
would  withdraw."  Then  whispering  him,  she  was  lifted  in 
his  arms  and  Murray's,  and  carried  from  the  hall. 

As  she  moved  away,  her  eyes  met  those  of  Wallace.  He 
rose ;  but  she  waved  her  hand  to  him,  with  an  expression  in 
her  countenance  of  an  adieu  so  firm,  yet  so  tender,  that,  feel- 
ing as  if  he  were  parting  with  a  beloved  sister  who  had  just 
risked  her  life  for  him,  and  whom  he  might  never  see  again,  he 
uttered  not  a  word  to  any  that  were  present,  but  leaning  on 
Edwin,  left  the  hall  by  an  opposite  door. 


CHAPTER  XLIIL 

THE    CARSE    OF    STIRLING. 

DAYBREAK  gleamed  over  the  sky  before  the  wondering 
spectators  of  the  late  extraordinary  scene  had  dispersed  to 
their  quarters. 

De  Warenne  was  so  well  convinced  by  what  had  dropped 
from  De  Valence  of  his  having  been  the  assassin,  that  when 
they  met  at  sunrise  to  take  horse  for  the  borders,  he  made  him 
no  other  salutation  than  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  'not  to 
find  him  under  an  arrest  for  the  last  night's  work/ 

"  The  wily  Scot  knew  better,"  replied  De  Valence,  "than  so 
to  expose  the  reputation  of  the  lady.  He  knew  that  she  re- 
ceived the  wound  in  his  arms,  and  he  durst  not  seize  me,  for 
fear  I  should  proclaim  it." 


318  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  He  cannot  fear  that,"  replied  De  Warenne,  "  for  he  has  pro- 
claimed it  himself.  He  has  told  every  particular  of  his  meet- 
ing with  Lady  Helen  in  the  chapel,  even  her  sheltering  him 
with  her  arms  ;  so  there  is  nothing  for  you  to  declare  but  your 
own  infamy.  For  infamous  I  must  call  it,  Lord  Aymer ;  and 
nothing  but  the  respect  I  owe  my  country  prevents  me  point- 
ing the  eyes  of  the  indignant  Scots  to  you ;  nothing  but  the 
stigma  your  exposure  would  bring  upon  the  English  name 
could  make  me  conceal  the  deed." 

De  Valence  laughed  at  this  speech  of  De  Warenne's.  "Why, 
my  lord  warden,"  said  he,  "  have  you  been  taking  lessons  of 
this  doughty  Scot,  that  you  talk  thus  ?  It  was  not  with  such 
sentiments  you  overthrew  the  princes  of  Wales,  and  made  the 
kings  of  Ireland  fly  before  you !  You  would  tell  another 
story  were  your  own  interest  in  question  ;  and  I  can  tell  you 
that  my  vengeance  is  not  satisfied.  I  will  yet  see  the  bright- 
ness of  those  eyes,  on  which  the  proud  daughter  of  Mar  hangs 
so  fondly,  extinguished  in  death.  Maid  or  wife,  Helen  shall 
be  torn  from  his  arms ;  and  if  I  cannot  make  her  a  virgin  bride, 
she  shall  at  least  be  mine  as  his  widow  ;  for  I  swear  not  to  be 
disappointed." 

"  Shame,  De  Valence  !  I  should  blush  to  owe  my  courage  to 
rivalry,  or  my  perseverance  in  the  field  to  a  licentious  pas- 
sion. You  know  what  you  have  confessed  to  me  were  once 
your  designs  on  Helen  Mar." 

"Every  man  according  to  his  nature,"  returned  De  Valence; 
and  shrugging  his  shoulders  he  mounted  his  horse. 

The  cavalcade  of  Southrons  now  appeared.  They  were  met 
on  the  carse  by  the  regent,  who,  not  regarding  the  smart  of  a 
closing  wound,  advanced  at  the  head  of  ten  thousand  men  to 
see  his  prisoners  over  the  borders.  By  Helen's  desires  Lord 
Mar  had  informed  Wallace  what  had  been  the  threats  of  De 
Valence,  and  that  she  suspected  him  to  be  the  assassin.  But 
this  suspicion  was  put  beyond  a  doubt  by  the  evidence  of  the 
dagger,  which  Edwin  had  found  in  the  chapel ;  its  hilt  was 
enamelled  with  the  martlets  of  De  Valence. 

At  sight  of  it  a  general  indignation  filled  the  Scottish  chiefs, 
and  assembling  round  their  regent,  with  one  breath  they  de- 
manded that  the  false  earl  should  be  detained,  and  punished 
as  became  the  honor  of  nations,  for  so  execrable  a  breach  of 
all  laws,  human  and  divine.  Wallace  replied  that  he  believed 
the  attack  to  have  been  instigated  by  a  personal  motive,  and, 
therefore,  as  he  was  the  object,  not  the  state  of  Scotland,  he 
should  merely  acquaint  the  earl  that  his  villany  was  known, 
and  let  the  shame  of  disgrace  be  his  punishment. 


THE    CARSE    OF   STIRLING.  319 

"  Ah ! "  observed  Lord  Bothwell,  "  men  who  trample  on 
conscience  soon  get  over  shame." 

"  True,"  replied  Wallace  ;  "  but  I  suit  my  actions  to  my 
own  mind,  not  to  my  enemy's  ;  and  if  he  cannot  feel  dishonor, 
I  will  not  so  far  disparage  myself  as  to  think  one  so  basr 
worthy  my  resentment." 

While  he  was  quieting  the  reawakened  indignation  of  his 
nobles,  whose  blood  began  to  boil  afresh  at  sight  of  the 
assassin,  the  Southron  lords,  conducted  by  Lord  Mar,  ap- 
proached. When  that  nobleman  drew  near,  Wallace's  first 
inquiry  was  for  Lady  Helen.  The  earl  informed  him  he  had 
received  intelligence  of  her  having  slept  without  fever,  and 
that  she  was  not  awake  when  the  messenger  came  off  with 
his  good  tidings.  That  all  was  likely  to  be  well  with  her  was 
comfort  to  Wallace ;  and,  with  an  unruffled  brow,  riding  up 
to  the  squadron  of  Southrons,  which  was  headed  by  De  War- 
enne  and  De  Valence,  he  immediately  approached  the  latter, 
and  drawing  out  the  dagger  held  it  towards  him.  "  The  next 
time,  Sir  Earl,"  said  he,  "  that  you  draw  this  dagger,  let  it  be 
with  a  more  knightly  aim  than  assassination." 

De  Valence,  surprised,  took  it  in  confusion,  and  without 
answer ;  but  his  countenance  told  the  state  of  his  mind.  He 
was  humbled  by  the  man  he  hated ;  and  while  a  sense  of  the 
disgrace  he  had  incurred  tore  his  proud  soul,  he  had  not  dig- 
nity enough  to  acknowledge  the  generosity  of  his  enemy  in 
again  giving  him  a  life  which  his  treachery  had  so  often  for- 
feited. Having  taken  the  dagger,  he  wreaked  the  exasperated 
vengeance  of  his  malice  upon  the  senseless  steel,  and  breaking 
it  asunder,  threw  the  pieces  into  the  air,  while  turning  from 
Wallace  with  an  affected  disdain,  he  exclaimed  to  the  shivered 
weapon,  "  You  shall  not  betray  me  again  !  " 

"  Nor  you  betray  our  honors,  Lord  de  Valence,"  exclaimed 
Earl  de  Warenne  ;  "  and  therefore,  though  the  nobleness  of 
Sir  William  Wallace  leaves  you  at  large  after  this  outrage  on 
his  person,  we  will  assert  our  innocence  of  connivance  with 
the  deed ;  and,  as  lord  warden  of  this  realm,  I  order  you 
under  an  arrest  till  we  pass  the  Scottish  lines." 

"'T  is  well,"  cried  Hilton,  "that  such  is  your  determination, 
my  lord,  else  no  honest  man  could  have  continued  in  the 
same  company  with  one  who  has  so  tarnished  the  English 
name." 

"No,"  cried  his  brother  baron,  venerable  Blenkinsopp, 
reining  up  his  steed ;  "  I  would  forfeit  house  and  lands  first." 

De  Valence,  with   an  ironical   smile,   looked   towards   the 


320  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

squadron  which  approached  to  obey  De  Warenne,  and  haugh 
tily  answered,  "  Though  it  be  dishonor  to  you  to  march  with 
me  out  of  Scotland,  the  proudest  of  you  all  will  deem  it  an 
honor  to  be  allowed  to  return  with  me  hither.  I  have  an  eye 
on  those  who  stand  with  cap  in  hand  to  rebellion.  And  for 
you,  Sir  William  Wallace/''  added  he,  turning  to  him,  who  was 
also  curbing  his  impatient  charger,  "  I  hold  no  terms  with  a 
rebel,  and  deem  all  honor  that  would  rid  my  sovereign  and 
the  earth  of  such  low-born  arrogance." 

Before  Wallace  could  answer  he  saw  De  Valence  struck  from 
his  horse  by  the  Lochaber-axe  of  Edwin.  Indignant  at  the 
insult  offered  to  his  beloved  commander  he  had  suddenly 
raised  his  arm,  and  aiming  a  blow  with  all  his  strength  the 
earl  was  immediately  stunned  and  precipitated  to  the  ground. 

At  sight  of  the  fall  of  the  Southron  chief  the  Scottish 
troops,  aware  of  there  being  some  misunderstanding  between 
their  regent  and  the  English  lords,  uttered  a  shout.  Wallace, 
to  prevent  accidents,  sent  instantly  to  the  lines  to  appease 
the  tumult,  and  throwing  himself  off  his  horse  hastened  to 
the  prostrate  earl.  A  fearful  pause  reigned  throughout  the 
Southron  ranks.  They  did  not  know  but  that  the  enraged 
Scots  would  now  fall  on  them,  and,  in  spite  of  their  regent, 
exterminate  them  on  the  spot.  The  troops  were  running  for- 
ward when  Wallace's  messengers  arrived  and  checked  them, 
and  himself,  calling  to  Edwin,  stopped  his  further  chastise- 
ment of  the  recovering  earl. 

"Edwin,  you  have  done  wrong,"  cried  he;  "give  me  that 
weapon  which  you  have  sullied  by  raising  it  against  a  pris- 
oner totally  in  our  power." 

With  a  vivid  blush  the  noble  boy  resigned  the  weapon  to 
his  general,  yet,  with  an  unappeased  glance  on  the  pros- 
trate De  Valence,  he  exclaimed,  "  But  have  you  not  granted 
life  twice  to  this  prisoner  ?  and  has  he  not,  in  return,  raised 
his  hand  against  your  life  and  Lady  Helen  ?  You  pardon 
him  again,  and  in.  the  moment  of  your  clemency  he  insults 
the  lord  regent  of  Scotland  in  the  face  of  both  nations !  I 
could  not  hear  this,  and  live,  without  making  him  feel  that 
you  have  those  about  you  who  will  not  forgive  such  crimes." 

"  Ed  win,"  returned  Wallace,  "had  not  the  lord  regent  power 
to  punish  ?  And  if  he  see  right  to  hold  his  hand,  those  who 
strike  for  him  invade  his  dignity.  I  should  be  unworthy  the 
honor  of  protecting  a  brave  nation  did  I  stoop  to  tread  on 
every  reptile  that  stings  me  in  my  path.  Leave  Lord  de  Val- 
ence to  the  sentence  his  commander  has  pronounced ;  and,  as 


THE    CARSE    OF    STIRLING.  321 

an  expiation  for  your  having  offended  both  military  and  moral 
law,  this  day  you  must  remain  at  Stirling  till  I  return  into 
Scotland." 

De  Valence,  hardly  awake  from  the  stupor  which  the  blow 
of  the  battle-axe  had  occasioned  (for  indignation  had  given  to 
the  young  warrior  the  strength  of  manhood),  was  raised  from 
the  ground,  and  soon  after  coming  to  himself,  and  being  made 
sensible  of  what  had  happened,  he  was  taken,  foaming  with 
rage  and  mortification,  into  the  centre  of  the  Southron  lines. 

Alarmed  at  the  confusion  he  saw  at  a  distance,  Lord  Mont- 
gomery ordered  his  litter  round  from  the  rear  to  the  front, 
and  hearing  all  that  had  passed  joined  with  De  Warenne  in 
pleading  for  the  abashed  Edwin. 

"  His  youth  and  zeal,"  cried  Montgomery,  "  are  sufficient  to 
excuse  the  intemperance  of  the  deed." 

"  No,"  interrupted  Edwin ;  "  I  have  offended,  and  I  will 
expiate.  Only,  iny  honored  lord,"  said  he,  approaching  Wal- 
lace, while  he  checked  the  emotion  which  would  have  flowed 
from  his  eyes,  "  when  I  am  absent,  sometimes  remember  that 
it  was  Edwin's  love  which  hurried  him  to  this  disgrace." 

"  My  dear  Edwin,"  returned  Wallace,  "  there  are  many  im- 
petuous spirits  in  Scotland  who  need  the  lesson  I  now  enforce 
upon  you  ;  and  they  will  be  brought  to  maintain  the  law  of 
honor  when  they  see  that  their  regent  spares  not  its  slightest 
violation,  even  when  committed  by  his  best  beloved  friend. 
Farewell,  till  we  meet  again  !  " 

Edwin  kissed  Wallace's  hand  in  silence,  —  it  was  now  wet 
with  his  tears,  —  and  drawing  his  bonnet  hastily  over  his  eyes 
he  retired  into  the  rear  of  Lord  Mar's  party.  That  nobleman 
soon  after  took  leave  of  the  regent,  who,  placing  himself  at 
the  head  of  his  legions,  the  trumpets  blew  the  signal  of  march. 
Edwin,  at  the  sound,  which  a  few  minutes  before  he  would 
have  greeted  with  so  much  joy,  felt  his  grief-swollen  heart 
give  way ;  he  sobbed  aloud,  and,  striking  his  heel  on  the  side 
of  his  horse,  galloped  to  a  distance  to  hide  from  all  eyes  the 
violence  of  his  regrets.  The  trampling  of  the  departing 
troops  rolled  over  the  ground  like  receding  thunder.  Edwin 
at  last  stole  a  look  towards  the  plain ;  he  beheld  a  vast  cloud 
of  dust,  but  no  more  the  squadrons  of  his  friend. 


END    OF    THE    FIRST    VOLUME. 
VOL.  I.  — 21 


THE 


SCOTTISH    CHIEFS 


BY 

MISS    JANE     PORTER 


REVISED     AND     CORRECTED 

WITH 

A  NEW   RETROSPECTIVE    INTRODUCTION,  NOTES,  ETC. 

BY    THE    AUTHOR 


VOL.  II. 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


CONTENTS 


VOL.    II. 


CHAPTEK 

XLIV. 

PAGE 

XLV. 

•  'J£     .        8 

XL  VI. 

LAMMINGTON        .... 

.      14 

XL  VII. 

LAMMINGTON.  —  (Continued) 

.      21 

XL  VIII. 

LOCH-  A  WE   . 

.      26 

XLIX. 

STANMORE    ..... 

.      35 

L. 

STIRLING       

.      43 

LI. 

STIRLING  AND  SNAWDOUN  . 

.       53 

LII. 

BANKS  OF  THE  FORTH 

.      \       58 

LIII. 

FALKIRK       i        . 

.       65 

LIV. 

CARRON  BANKS    .... 

.  :   .    82 

LV. 

CHURCH  OF  FALKIRK  . 

.       92 

LVI. 

THE  MONASTERY       .   »     .>  *,  .     • 

.    101 

LVII. 

DURHAM       ..... 

.     109 

LVIII. 

THE  BISHOP'S  PALACE 

.     126 

LIX. 

THE  BOUND  TOWER     . 

.     131 

LX. 

GALLIC  SEAS        .... 

.     143 

LXI. 

NORMANDY  

.     153 

LXII. 

THE  WIDOW'S  CELL     . 

.     160 

LXIII. 

CHATEAU  GALLIARD    . 

.     165 

LXIV. 

FOREST  OF  VINCENNES 

.     172 

LXV. 

PARIS    ...... 

.     184 

LXVI. 

THE  LOUVRE         .... 

.     191 

Oil) 

iv 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

LXVII.     SCOTLAND  * 196 

LXVIII.  ROSLYN       .        .        .        ...        .199 

LXIX.  ROSLYN  CASTLE         .        .        .        .        .    208 

LXX.     BERWICK 214 

LXXI.  THE  CAMP.        .'       .        .        ,        .        .     220 

LXXII.  STIRLING  CASTLE       .        .       ...   '    ..        .     226 

LXXIII.  BALLOCHGEICH    .        .        . '      .        »        .     240 

LXXIV.     ARTHUR'S  SEAT 245 

LXXV.  DALKEITH  .        .        .        .        .        .        .250 

LXXVI.  HAWTHORNDEAN        .        .        .        ,         .     254 

LXXVII.  WALLACE'S  TENT      ^  „     .        .        ,        .259 

LXXVIII.  BANKS  OF  THE  ESKE      .  -.        .        .        .263 

LXXIX.  LUMLOCH    .        .        ;       .       '.,       .         .     272 

LXXX.  HUNTING-TOWER        .     r/t,f'>  ^  r  *  '  <V    2$5 

LXXXI.  THE  THAMES      .        .        .     ,^,^.^^290 

LXXXIL  THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON  .        .     •   . V /f    294 

LXXXIII.  THE  STATE  DUNGEON        .        .     ;   .}•  •._   303 

LXXXIY.  TOWER  HILL      .        /      .        .     j.-jr^    311 

LXXXV.  THE  WARDEN'S  APARTMENTS   .     j>  .'-,     .     313 

-LXXXVI.  HIGHGATE.        .'       .;       .        .     \  .",    \    318 

LXXXVII.  SCOTLAND.  —  DUMFRIES    .        .     ,  .T  j-  .    321 

LXXXVIII.     STIRLING ^.    328 

LXXXIX.  BANNOCKBURN  .                                              331 


APPENDIX     .        .         .        .        .        .        v    L   m    >    343 

NOTE  RESPECTING  THE  PERSONAL  CONFIRMATION 
OF  SIR  WILLIAM  WALLACE  AND  KING  ROBERT 

BRUCE '.        -I'1-  v^     .    343 

NOTE  CONCERNING  JOANNA  OF  MAR  AND  STRATH- 
EARN  347 

THE  SCARF  OF  JAMES  THE  FIFTH  OF  SCOTLAND, 
IN  THE  POSSESSION  OF  DR.  JEFFERSON,  OF  WEST 
LODGE,  CLAPHAM  .......  349 


THE 

SCOTTISH    CHIEFS 


VOLUME    TWO. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE    CHEVIOTS. 

As  Wallace  pursued  his  march  along  the  once  fertile  and 
well-peopled  valleys  of  Clydesdale,  their  present  appearance 
affected  him  like  the  sight  of  a  friend  whom  he  had  seen  de- 
part in  all  the  graces  of  youth  and  prosperity,  but  met  again 
overcome  with  disease  and  wretchedness. 

The  pastures  of  Carstairs  on  the  east  of  the  river,  which 
used  at  this  season  to  be  whitened  with  sheep  and  sending 
forth  the  lo  wings  of  abundant  cattle,  and  the  vales,  which  had 
teemed  with  reapers  rejoicing  in  the  harvest,  were  now  laid 
waste  and  silent.  The  plain  presented  one  wide  flat  of  desola- 
tion. Where  once  was  the  enamelled  meadow,  a  dreary  swamp 
extended  its  vapory  surface,  and  the  road  which  a  happy  peas- 
antry no  longer  trod,  lay  choked  up  with  thistles  and  rank 
grass  ;  while  birds  and  animals  of  chase  would  spring  from  its 
thickets  on  the  lonely  traveller,  to  tell  him  by  their  wild  aston- 
ishment that  he  was  distant  from  even  the  haunts  of  men. 
The  remains,  of  villages  were  visible,  but  the  blackness  of 
ashes  marked  the  walls  of  the  ruined  dwellings. 

Wallace  felt  that  he  was  passing  through  the  country  in 
which  his  Marion  had  been  rifled  of  her  life ;  and  as  he  moved 
along,  nature  all  around  seemed  to  have  partaken  her  death. 
As  he  rode  over  the  moors  which  led  towards  the  district  of 
Crawford  Lammington,  those  hills  amidst  which  the  beloved 
of  his  soul  first  drew  breath,  he  became  totally  silent.  Time 
rolled  back ;  he  was  no  longer  the  regent  of  Scotland,  but  the 
fond  lover  of  Marion  Braid  foot.  His  heart  beat  as  it  was  wont 

VOL.  II.— 1 


2  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

to  do,  in  turning  his  horse  down  the  defile  which  led  direct  to 
Laimnington,  but  the  scene  was  completely  changed ;  the  groves 
in  which  he  had  so  often  wandered  with  her  were  gone ;  they 
had  been  cut  down  for  the  very  purpose  of  destroying  that 
place  which  had  once  been  the  abode  of  beauty  and  innocence 
and  of  all  the  tender  charities. 

One  shattered  tower l  alone  remained  of  the  house  of  Lain- 
mington. The  scathing  of  fire  embrowned  its  sides,  and  the 
uprooted  garden  marked  where  the  ravager  had  been.  While 
his  army  inarched  before  him  along  the  heights  of  Crawford, 
Wallace  slowly  moved  forward,  musing  on  the  scene.  In  turn- 
ing the  angle  of  a  shattered  wall  his  horse  started,  and  the 
next  moment  he  perceived  an  aged  figure  with  a  beard  white 
as  snow  and  wrapped  in  a  dark  plaid  emerging  from  the  ground. 
At  sight  of  the  apparition,  Murray,  who  accompanied  his  friend, 
and  had  hitherto  kept  silent,  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  I  conjure 
you,  honest  Scot,  ghost  or  man,  give  us  a  subject  for  conversa- 
tion !  and  as  a  beginning,  pray  tell  me  to  whom  this  ruined 
tower  belonged  ?  " 

The  sight  of  two  warriors  in  the  Scottish  garb  encouraged 
the  old  man,  and  stepping  out  on  the  ground  he  drew  near  to 
Murray.  "  Ruined  indeed,  sir,"  replied  he,  "  and  its  story  is 
very  sad.  When  the  Southrons  who  hold  Annandale  heard  of 
the  brave  acts  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  they  sent  an  army  to 
destroy  this  castle  and  domains,  which  are  his  in  right  of  the 
Lady  Marion  of  Lammington.  Sweet  creature !  I  hear  they 
foully  murdered  her  in  Lanark." 

Murray  was  smitten  speechless  at  this  information  ;  for  had 
he  suspected  there  was  any  private  reason  with  Wallace  for 
his  silent  lingering  about  this  desolate  spot,  he  would  rather 
have  drawn  him  away,  than  have  stopped  to  ask  questions. 

"  And  did  you  know  the  Lady  Marion,  venerable  old  man  ?  " 
inquired  Wallace,  in  a  voice  so  descriptive  of  what  was  pass- 
ing in  his  heart  that  the  man  turned  towards  him,  and  struck 
with  his  noble  mien,  he  pulled  off  his  bonnet  and  bowing, 
answered,  "Did  I  know  her?  She  was  nursed  on  these 
knees.  And  my  wife,  who  cherished  her  sweet  infancy,  is 
now  within  yon  brae.  It  is  our  only  home,  for  the  Southrons 
burnt  us  out  of  the  castle,  where  our  young  lady  left  us  when 
she  went  to  be  married  to  the  brave  young  Wallace.  He  was 
as  handsome  a  youth  as  ever  the  sun  shone  upon ;  and  he 
loved  my  lady  from  a  boy.  I  never  shall  forget  the  day  when 

1  The  ruins  of  this  tower  are  still  visible,  and  near  to  thuin  the  people  of  the  country 
still  show  the  dells  where  Wallace  walked  with  his  beloved,  aud  poiut  out  the  place 
where  he  afterwurdp  encamped  his  brave  army.  —  (1809.) 


THE    CHEVIOTS.  3 

she  stood  on  the  top  of  that  rock  and  let  a  garland  he  had 
made  for  her  fall  into  the  Clyde.  Without  more  ado,  never 
caring  because  it  is  the  deepest  here  of  any  part  of  the  river, 
he  jumps  in  after  it,  and  I  after  him  ;  and  well  I  did,  for  when 
I  caught  him  by  his  bonny  golden  locks  he  was  insensible. 
His  head  had  struck  against  a  stone  in  the  plunge,  and  a  great 
cut  was  over  his  forehead.  God  bless  him !  a  sorry  scar  it  left; 
but  many,  I  warrant,  hath  the  Southrons  now  made  on  his 
comely  countenance.  I  have  never  seen  him  since  he  grew  a 
man." 

Gregory,  the  honest  steward  of  Lammington,  was  now  rec- 
ognized in  this  old  man's  narration ;  but  time  and  hardship 
had  so  altered  his  appearance  that  Wallace  could  not  have 
otherwise  recollected  the  ruddy  age  and  active  figure  of  his 
well-remembered  companion  in  the  shaking  limbs  and  pallid 
visage  of  the  hoary  speaker.  When  he  ended,  the  chief  threw 
himself  from  his  horse.  He  approached  the  old  man  ;  with 
one  hand  he  took  off  his  helmet,  and  with  the  other  putting 
back  the  same  golden  locks,  he  said,  "  Was  the  scar  you  speak 
of  anything  like  this  ?  "  His  face  was  now  close  to  the  eye 
of  Gregory,  who  in  the  action,  the  words,  and  the  mark  im- 
mediately recognizing  the  young  playmate  of  his  happiest 
days,  with  an  almost  shriek  of  joy  threw  himself  on  his  neck 
and  wept ;  then  looking  up,  with  tears  rolling  over  his  cheeks, 
he  exclaimed,  "  0  Power  of  Mercy,  take  me  to  thyself,  since 
my  eyes  have  seen  the  deliverer  of  Scotland  !  " 

"  Not  so,  my  venerable  friend,"  returned  Wallace ;  "  you 
must  make  these  desolated  regions  bloom  anew.  Decorate 
them,  Gregory,  as  you  would  do  the  tomb  of  your  mistress.  I 
give  them  to  you  and  yours.  Marion  and  I  have  no  posterity. 
Let  her  foster-brother,  if  he  still  live,  —  let  him  be  now  the 
laird  of  Lammington." 

"  He  does  live,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  but  the  shadow  of 
what  he  was.  In  attempting,  with  a  few  resolute  lads,  to 
defend  these  domains,  he  was  severely  wounded.  His  com- 
panions were  slain,  and  I  found  him  on  the  other  side  of  my 
lady's  garden,  left  for  dead.  We  fled  with  him  to  the  woods, 
and  there  remained  till  all  about  here  was  laid  in  ashes. 
Finding  the  cruel  Southrons  had  made  a  general  waste,  yet 
fearful  of  fresh  incursions,  we,  and  others  who  had  been 
driven  from  their  homes,  dug  us  subterraneous  dwellings,1  and 
ever  since  have  lived  like  fairies  in  the  green  hill-side.  My 

1  Several  of  these  excavated  residences  may  now  be  seen  In  Crawford  Moor.  Tra- 
dition informs  us  of  the  use  to  which  they  were  applied.  Not  only  the  outraged  people 
thus  found  shelter  in  the  bosom  of  their  mother-earth,  but  the  cattle  a'so.  —  (1809.) 


4  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

son  and  his  young  wife  and  babes  are  now  in  our  cavern,  but 
reduced  by  sickness  and  want,  for  famine  is  here.  Alas !  the 
Southrons,  in  conquering  Scotland,  have  not  gained  a  king- 
dom, but  made  a  desert. " 

"  And  there  is  a  God  who  marks  ! "  returned  Wallace  ;  "  I  go 
to  reap  the  harvests  of  Northumberland.  What  our  enemies 
have  ravished  hence,  in  part  they  shall  refund ;  a  few  days, 
and  your  granaries  shall  overflow.  Meanwhile  I  leave  with 
you  my  friend,"  said  he,  pointing  to  Murray,  "  at  the  head  of 
five  hundred  men.  To-morrow  he  may  commence  the  reduc- 
tion of  every  English  fortress  that  yet  casts  a  shade  on  the 
stream  of  our  native  Clyde ;  for,  when  the  sun  next  rises,  the 
Southrons  will  have  passed  the  Scottish  borders,  and  then 
the  truce  expires." 

Gregory  fell  at  his  feet,  and  begged  that  he  might  be  allowed 
to  bring  his  Nannie  to  see  the  husband  of  her  once  dear  child. 

"  Not  now,"  replied  Wallace ;  "  I  could  not  bear  the  inter- 
view—  she  shall  see  me  when  I  return." 

He  then  spoke  apart  to  Murray,  who  cheerfully  acquiesced 
in  a  commission  that  promised  him  not  only  the  glory  of  be- 
ing a  conqueror,  but  the  private  satisfaction,  he  hoped,  of 
driving  the  Southron  garrison  out  of  his  own  paternal  castle. 
To  send  such  news  to  his  noble  father  at  Stirling  would  in- 
deed be  a  wreath  of  honor  to  his  aged,  and  yet  warlike,  brow. 
It  was  then  arranged  between  the  young  chief  and  his  com- 
mander that  watch-towers  should  be  thrown  up  on  every  con- 
spicuous eminence  throughout  the  country,  from  the  heights 
of  Clydesdale  to  those  which  skirted  the  Scottish  borders, 
whence*  concerted  signals  of  victories,  or  other  information, 
might  be  severally  interchanged.  These  preliminaries  adjusted, 
the  regent's  bugle  brought  Ker  and  Sir  John  Graham  to  his 
side.  The  appointed  number  of  men  were  left  with  Murray ; 
and  Wallace,  joining  his  other  chieftains,  bade  his  friend  and 
honest  servant  adieu. 

He  now  awakened  to  a  sense  of  the  present  scene,  and 
speeded  his  legions  over  hill  and  dale  till  they  entered  on  the 
once  luxuriant  banks  of  the  Annan,  —  this  territory  of  some 
of  the  noblest  in  Scotland  till  Bruce,  their  chief,  deserted 
them.  It  lay  in  more  terrific  ruin  than  even  the  tracts  he 
had  left.  There  reigned  the  silence  of  the  tomb  ;  here  existed 
the  expiring  agonies  of  men  left  to  perish.  Recent  marks  of 
devastation  smoked  from  the  blood-stained  earth,  and  in  the 
midst  of  a  barren  waste  a  fev  houseless  wretches  rushed  for- 
ward at  sight  of  the  reger  c,  threw  themselves  before  his 


THE    CHEVIOTS.  5 

horse,  and  begged  a  morsel  of  food  for  their  famishing 
selves  and  dying  infants.  "  Look  ! "  cried  an  almost  frantic 
mother,  holding  towards  him  the  living  skeleton  of  a  child ; 
"my  husband  was  slain  by  the  Southrons  who  hold  Lochma- 
ben  castle  ;  my  subsistence  was  carried  away,  and  myself 
turned  forth  to  give  birth  to  this  child  on  the  rocks.  We 
have  fed  till  this  hour  on  the  wild  berries ;  but  I  die,  and  my 
child  expires  before  me ! "  A  second  group,  with  shrieks  of 
despair,  cried  aloud,  "Here  are  our  young 'ones,  exposed  to 
equal  miseries.  Give  us  bread,  regent  of  Scotland,  or  we 
perish ! " 

Wallace  turned  to  his  troops.  "  Fast  for  a  day,  my  brave 
friends,"  cried  he  ;  "  lay  the  provisions  you  have  brought  with 
you  before  these  hapless  people.  To-morrow  you  shall  feast 
largely  011  Southron  tables." 

He  was  instantly  obeyed.  As  his  men  marched  on  they 
threw  their  loaded  wallets  among  the  famishing  groups,  and, 
followed  by  their  blessings,  descended  with  augmented  speed 
the  ravaged  hills  of  Annandale.  '  Dawn  was  brightening  the 
dark  head  of  Brunswark  as  they  advanced  towards  the  Scot- 
tish boundary.  At  a  distance,  like  a  wreath  of  white  vapors, 
lay  the  English  camp  along  the  Southern  bank  of  the  Esk. 
At  this  sight  Wallace  ordered  his  bugles  to  sound.  They 
were  immediately  answered  by  those  of  the  opposite  host. 
The  heralds  of  both  armies  advanced;  and  the  sun,  rising 
from  behind  the  eastern  hills,  shone  full  upon  the  legions  of 
Scotland,  winding  down  the  romantic  precipices  of  Wauchope. 

Two  hours  arranged  every  preliminary  to  the  exchange  of 
prisoners,  and  when  the  clarion  of  the,  trumpet  announced 
that  each  party  was  to  pass  over  the  river  to  the  side  of  its 
respective  country,  Wallace  stood  in  the  midst  of  his  chief- 
tains to  receive  the  last  adieus  of  his  illustrious  captives. 
When  De  Warenne  approached  the  regent  took  off  his  helmet. 
The  Southron  had  already  his  in  his  hand.  "  Farewell,  gallant 
Scot,"  said  he ;  "  if  aught  could  embitter  this  moment  of  re- 
covered freedom,  it  is  that  I  leave  a  man  I  so  revere  still  con- 
fident in.  a  finally  hopeless  cause  ! " 

"  It  would  not  be  the  less  just  were  it  indeed  desperate," 
replied  Wallace ;  "  but  had  not  Heaven  shown  on  which  side 
it  fought,  I  should  not  now*have  the  honor  of  thus  bidding 
the  brave  De  Warenne  farewell." 

The  earl  passed  on,  and  the  other  lords,  with  grateful  and 
respectful  looks,  paid  their  obeisance.  The  litter  of  Mont- 
gomery drew  near;  the  curtains  were  thrown  openj  Wallace 


6  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

stretched  out  his  hand  to  him.    "  The  prayers  of  sainted  inno- 
cence are  thine  ! " 

"  Never  more  shall  her  angel  spirit  behold  me  here  as  you 
now  behold  me,'7  returned  Montgomery.  "  I  must  be  a  traitor 
to  virtue  before  I  ever  again  bear  arms  against  Sir  William 
Wallace."  Wallace  pressed  his  hand,  and  they  parted. 

The  escort  which  guarded  De  Valence  advanced,  and  the 
proud  earl,  seeing  where  his  enemy  stood,  took  off  his  gaunt- 
let, and  throwing  it  fiercely  towards  him,  exclaimed,  "  Carry 
that  to  your  minion  Ruthven,  and  tell  him  the  hand  that  wore 
it  will  yet  be  tremendously  revenged.'7 

As  the  Southron  ranks  filed  off  towards  Carlisle,  those  of 
the  returning  Scottish  prisoners  approached  their  deliverer. 
Now  it  was  that  the  full  clangor  of  joy  burst  from  every 
breast  and  triumph-breathing  instrument  in  the  Scottish 
legions ;  now  it  was  that  the  echoes  rang  with  loud  huzzas  of 
"  Long  live  the  valiant  Wallace,  who  brings  our  nobles  out  of 
captivity  !  Long  live  our  matchless  regent !  " 

As  these  shouts  rent  the  air  the  Lords  Badenoch  and  Athol 
drew  near.  The  princely  head  of  the  former  bent  with  proud 
acknowledgment  to  the  mild  dignity  of  Wallace.  Badenoch's 
penetrating  eye  saw  that  it  was  indeed  the  patriotic  guardian 
of  his  country  to  whom  he  bowed,  and  not  the  vain  affecter  of 
regal  power.  At  his  approach  Wallace  alighted  from  his 
horse  and  received  his  offered  hand  and  thanks  with  every 
grace  inherent  in  his  noble  nature.  u  I  am  happy,"  returned 
he,  *'  to  have  been  the  instrument  of  recalling  to  my  country 
one  of  the  princes  of  her  royal  blood." 

"  And  while  one  drop  of  it  exists  in  Scotland,"  replied 
Badenoch,  "  its  possessor  must  acknowledge  the  bravest  of 
our  defenders  in  Sir  William  Wallace." 

Athol  next  advanced,  but  his  gloomy  countenance  contra- 
dicted his  words  when  he  attempted  to  utter  a  similar  sense  of 
obligation.  Sir  John  Monteitli  was  eloquent  in  his  thanks. 
And  Sir  William  Maitland  was  not  less  sincere  in  gratitude 
than  Wallace  was  in  joy  at  having  given  liberty  to  so  near  a 
relation  of  Helen  Mar.  The  rest  of  the  captive  Scots,  to  the 
number  of  several  hundreds,  were  ready  to  kiss  the  feet  of 
the  man  who  thus  restored  them  to  their  honors,  their  country, 
and  their  friends,  and  Wallace  bowed  his  happy  head  under  a 
shower  of  blessings  which  poured  on  him  from  a  thousand 
grateful  hearts. 

In  pity  to  the  wearied  travellers,  he  ordered  tents  to 
be  pitched,  and  for  the  sake  of  their  distant  friends,  he 


THE    CHEVIOTS.  1 

despatched  a  detachment  to  the  top  of  Langholm  hill  to  send 
forth  a  smoke,1  in  token  to  the  Clydesdale  watch  of  the  ar- 
mistice being  ended.  He  had  hardly  seen  it  ascend  the  moun- 
tain when  Graham  arrived  from  reconnoitring,  and  told  him 
that  an  English  army  of  great'  strength  were  approaching  by 
the  foot  of  the  more  southern  hills  to  take  the  reposing  Scots 
by  surprise. 

"  They  shall  find  us  ready  to  receive  them,"  was  the  prompt 
reply  of  Wallace,  and  his  actions  were  ever  the  companions  of 
his  words.  Leaving  the  new-arrived  Scots  to  rest  on  the  banks 
of  the  Esk,  he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  five  thousand  men, 
and  despatching  a  thousand  more  with  Sir  John  Graham,  to  pass 
the  Cheviots,  and  be  in  ambush  to  attack  the  Southrons  when 
he  should  give  the  signal,  he  marched  swiftly  forward,  and  soon 
fell  in  with  some  advanced  squadrons  of  the  enemy  amongst 
the  recesses  of  those  hills.  Little  expecting  such  a  rencontre, 
they  were  marching  in  defiles  upon  the  lower  ridgy  craigs,  to 
avoid  the  swamps  which  occupied  the  broader  way. 

At  sight  of  the  Scots,  Lord  Percy,  the  Southron  commander, 
ordered  a  party  of  his  archers  to  discharge  their  arrows.  The 
artillery  of  war  being  thus  opened  afresh,  Wallace  drew  his 
bright  sword,  and  waving  it  before  him,  just  as  the  sun  set, 
called  aloud  to  his  followers.  His  inspiring  voice  echoed  from 
hill  to  hill,  and  the  higher  detachments  of  the  Scots,  pouring 
downwards  with  the  resistless  impetuosity  of  their  own  moun- 
tain streams,  precipitated  their  enemies  into  the  valley,  while 
Wallace,  with  his  pikernen,  charging  the  horse  in  those  slip- 
pery paths,  drove  the  terrified  animals  into  the  morasses, 
where  some  sunk  at  once,  and  others,  plunging,  threw  their 
riders,  to  perish  in  the  swamp. 

Desperate  at  the  confusion  which  now  ensued,  as  his  archers 
fell  headlong  from  the  rocks,  and  his  cavalry  lay  drowning 
before  him,  Lord  Percy  called  up  his  infantry ;  they  appeared, 
but  though  ten  thousand  strong,  the  determined  Scots  met 
their  first  ranks  breast  to  breast,  and  levelling  them  with  their 
companions,  rushed  on  the  rest  with  the  force  of  a  thunder- 
storm. It  was  at  this  period  that  the  signal  was  given  from 
the  horn  of  Wallace,  and  the  division  of  Graham,  meeting  the 
retreating  Southrons  as  they  attempted  to  form  behind  the 
hill,  completed  their  defeat.  The  slaughter  became  dreadful, 
the  victory  decisive.  Sir  Ralph  Latirner,  the  second  in  com- 

1  There  are  hills  in  Annandale  and  Clydesdale,  called  Watches,  where  persons  In  old 
times  were  stationed  to  give  different  signals  appointed  by  their  commanders.  These 
notices  w  <re  communicated  with  wonderful  rapidity  by  smoke  in  the  day  and  flame  at 
night.—  (1809.) 


8  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

mand,  was  killed  in  the  first  onset,  and  Lord  Percy  himself, 
after  fighting  as  became  his  brave  nouse,  fled,  covered  with 
wounds,  towards  Alnwick. 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

LOCHMABEN    CASTLE. 

THIS  being  the  season  of  harvest  in  the  northern  counties 
of  England,  Wallace  carried  his  reapers,  not  to  lay  their 
sickles  to  the  field,  but,  with  their  swords,  to  open  themselves 
a  way  into  the  Southron  granaries. 

The  careful  victor,  meanwhile,  provided  for  the  wants  of  his 
friends  on  the  other  side  of  the  Esk.  The  plunder  of  Percy's 
camp  was  despatched  to  them,  which,  being  abundant  in  all 
kinds  of  provisions,  was  more  than  sufficient  to  keep  them  in 
ample  store  till  they  could  reach  Stirling.  From  that  point 
the  released  chiefs  had  promised  their  regent  they  would 
disperse  to  their  separate  estates,  collect  recruits,  and  reduce 
the  distracted  state  of  the  country  into  some  composed  order. 
Wallace  had  disclosed  his  wish,  and  mode  of  effecting  this 
renovation  of  public  happiness,  before  he  left  Stirling.  It 
contained  a  plan  of  military  organization,  by  which  each 
youth  able  to  bear  arms  should  not  only  be  instructed  in  the 
dexterous  use  of  the  weapons  of  war,  but  in  the  duties  of  sub- 
ordination, and  above  all,  have  the  nature  of  the  rights  for 
which  he  was  to  contend  explained  to  him. 

'-  They  only  require  to  be  thoroughly  known  to  be  regarded 
as  inestimable,"  added  he;  "but  while  we  raise  around  us  the 
best  bulwark  of  any  nation  —  a  brave  and  well-disciplined  peo- 
ple ;  while  we  teach  them  to  defend  their  liberties,  let  us  see 
that  they  deserve  them.  Let  them  be  men  contending  for 
virtuous  independence,  not  savages  fighting  for  licentious  un- 
restraint. We  must  have  our  youth  of  both  sexes  in  towns 
and  villages,  from  the  castle  to  the  cot,  taught  the  saving  truths 
of  Christianity.  From  that  root  will  branch  all  that  is  needful 
to  make  them  useful  members  of  the  state,  virtuous  and  happy. 
And  while  war  is  in  our  hands,  let  us  in  all  things  prepare  for 
peace,  that  the  sword  may  gently  bend  into  the  sickle,  the  dirk 
to  the  priming-hook." 

There  was  an  expansive  providence  in  all  this,  a  concenttra- 
ing  plan  of  public  weal,  which  few  of  the  nobles  had  ever  even 


LOCHMABEN    CASTLE.  9 

glanced  at,  as  a  design  conceivable  for  Scotland.  There  were 
many  of  these  warrior  chiefs  who  could  not  even  understand  it. 

"  Ah !  my  lords,"  replied  he  to  their  warlike  objections,  "  de- 
ceive not  yourselves  with  the  belief  that  by  the  mere  force  of 
arms  a  nation  can  render  itself  great  and  secure.  Industry, 
temperance,  and  discipline  amongst  the  people,  with  modera- 
tion and  justice  in  the  higher  orders,  are  the  only  aliments  of 
independence.  They  bring  you  riches  and  power,  which  make 
it  the  interest  of  those  who  might  have  been  your  enemies  to 
court  your  friendship."  l 

The  graver  council  at  Stirling  had  received  his  plan  with 
enthusiasm.  And  when,  on  the  day  of  his  parting  with  the 
released  chiefs  on  the  banks  of  the  Esk,  with  all  the  generous 
modesty  of  his  nature  he  submitted  his  design  to  them,  rather 
to  obtain  their  approbation  as  friends  than  to  enforce  it  with 
the  authority  of  a  regent;  when  they  saw  him  thus  coming 
down  from  the  dictatorship  to  which  his  unrivalled  talents  had 
raised  him  to  equal  himself  still  with  them,  all  were  struck 
with  admiration,  and  Lord  Badenoch  could  not  but  mentally 
exclaim,  "  The  royal  qualities  of  this  man  can  well  afford  this 
expense  of  humility.  Bend  as  he  will,  he  has  only  to  speak  to 
show  his  superiority  over  all,  and  to  be  sovereign  again." 

There  was  a  power  in  the  unostentatious  virtues  of  Wallace 
which, 'declaring  themselves  rather  in  their  effects  than  by  dis- 
play, subdued  the  princely  spirit  of  Badenoch ;  and  while  the 
proud  chief  recollected  how  he  had  contemned  the  pretensions 
of  Bruce  and  could  not  brook  the  elevation  of  Baliol ;  how  his 
soul  was  in  arms  when,  after  he  had  been  persuaded  to  ac- 
knowledge the  supremacy  of  Edward,  the  throne  was  given  to 
one  of  his  rivals,  he  wondered  at  himself  to  find  that  his  very 
heart  bowed  before  the  gentle  and  comprehensive  wisdom  of 
an  untitled  regent. 

Athol,  alone  of  the  group,  seemed  insensible  to  the  benefits 
his  country  was  deriving  from  its  resistless  protector,  but  he 
expressed  his  dissent  from  the  general  sentiment  with  no  more 
visible  sign  than  a  cold  silence. 

When  the  messenger  from  Wallace  arrived  on  the  banks  of 
the  Esk  with  so  large  a  booty,  and  the  news  of  his  complete 
victory  over  the  gallant  Percy,  the  exultation  of  the  Scottish 
nobles  knew  no  bounds. 

1  The  late  Admiral  Waldegrave,  Lord  Radstock,  benevolent  as  brnve,  observed  to  a 
friend,  on  this  address  of  Wallace  :  "  This  is  what  ought  to  be  in  the  plan  of  our  national 
schools  on  one  side,  and  our  college  education  on  the  other;  otherwise,  the  knowledge 
which  comes  in  the  place  of  these  necessary  first  principles  inevitably  leads  to  mischief 
and  misery.  The  selfish  principle  needs  a  check  in  all  men,  high  and  low."  —  (1840.) 


10  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

On  Badenoch  opening  the  regent's  despatches  he  found 
they  repeated  his  wish  for  his  brave  coadjutors  to  proceed  to 
the  execution  of  the  plan  they  had  sanctioned  with  their 
approbation ;  they  were  to  march  directly  for  Stirling,  and  in 
their  way  dispense  the  superabundance  of  the  plunder  amongst 
the  perishing  inhabitants  of  the  land.  He  then  informed  that 
earl,  that  while  the  guard  he  had  left  with  him  would  escort 
the  liberated  Scots  beyond  the  Forth,  the  remainder  of  the 
troops  should  be  thus  disposed  :  Lord  Andrew  Murray  was  to 
remain  chief  in  command  in  Clydesdale  ;  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell 
to  give  up  the  wardship  of  Douglas  to  Sir  John  Monteith,  and 
then  advance  into  Annandale  to  assist  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick, 
who  must  now  have  begun  the  reduction  of  the  castles  in  the 
west  of  that  province.  At  the  close  of  this  account  Wallace 
added,  that  himself,  with  his  brave  band,  were  going  to  traverse 
the  English  counties  to  the  Tee's  mouth,  and,  should  Heaven 
bless  his  arms,  he  would  send  the  produce  round  by  the  Ber- 
wick fleet  to  replenish  the  exhausted  stores  of  the  Highlands. 
"  Next  year/'  continued  he,  "  I .  trust  they  will  have  ample 
harvests  of  their  own." 

And  what  Wallace  said  he  hoped  to  do,  he  did. 

The  Southrons'  country  was  panic-struck  at  the  defeat  of 
Percy;  his  beaten  army,  flying  in  all  directions  before  the 
conquering  legions,  gave  such  dreadful  and  hyperbolical 
accounts  of  their  might  and  of  the  giant  prowess  of  their 
leader,  that  as  soon  as  ever  the  Scottish  spears  were  seen 
rising  the  summit  of  any  hill,  or  even  gleaming  along  the 
horizon,  every  village  was  deserted,  every  cot  left  without 
inhabitant,  and  corn,  and  cattle,  and  every  kind  of  property 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Scots. 

Lord  Percy  lay  immovable  with  wounds  in  his  castle  at 
Alnwick;1  and  his  hopeless  state,  by  intimidating  his  fol- 
lowers, contradicted  the  orders  he  gave  to  face  the  marauding 
enemy.  Several  times  they  attempted  to  obey,  but  as  often 
showed  their  inability.  They  collected  under  arms,  but  the 
moment  their  foe  appeared  they  fled  within  the  castle  walls  or 
buried  themselves  in  deep  obscurities  amongst  the  surrounding 
hills.  Not  a  sheaf  in  the  fields  of  Northumberland  did  the 

1  This  famous  castle,  of  so  many  heroic  generations,  is  still  the  princely  residence  of 
the  head  of  the  house  of  Percy.  It  has  witnessed  many  contests  between  Scots  and 
Southrons;  and  close  to  the  spot  where  its  great  embattled  gate  stood  in  the  twelfth 
century,  the  traveller  may  now  sec  a  tine  monumental  pillar,  erected  in  former  times  by 
the  earls  of  Northumberland,  to  show  where  Mowbray,  one  of  their  ancestors,  then 
holding  garrison  in  the  castle  for  William  Rufus,  King  of  England,  slew  with  his  own 
hand  William  Canmore,  King  of  Scotland,  who  had  come  up  to  take  it  by  assault.  It 
is  a  tradition  that  Mowbray  assumed  the  present  name  of  the  family  from  having  vritb. 
his  lance  pierced  the  monarch  in  the  eye.  —  (1809.) 


LOCHMABEN    CASTLE.  11 

Scots  leave  to  knead  into  bread  for  its  earl;  not  a  head  of 
cattle  to  smoke  upon  his  board.  The  country  was  sacked  from 
sea  to  sea.  But  far  different  was  its  appearance  from  that  of 
the  trampled  valleys  of  Scotland.  There  fire  had  burnt  up 
the  soil ;  the  hand  of  violence  had  levelled  the  husbandman's 
cottage,  had  buried  his  implements  in  the  ruins,  had  sacri- 
ficed himself  on  its  smoking  ashes.  There  the  fatherless 
babe  wept  its  unavailing  wants,  and  at  its  side  sat  the  dis- 
tracted widow,  wringing  her  hands  in  speechless  misery,  for 
there  lay  her  murdered  husband  —  here  her  perishing  child. 
i  With  such  sights  the  heart  of  Wallace  had  been  pierced 
*  when  he  passed  through  the  lowland  counties  of  his  country ; 
nay,  as  he  scoured  the  highland  districts  of  the  Grampians, 
even  there  had  he  met  the  foot  of  barbarian  man  and  cruel 
desolation.  For  thus  it  was  that  the  Southron  garrisons  had 
provisioned  themselves  —  by  robbing  the  poor  of  their  bread ; 
and,  when  they  resisted,  firing  their  dwellings  and  punishing 
the  refractory  with  death. 

But  not  so  the  generous  enmity  of  Sir  William  Wallace. 
His  commission  was  not  to  destroy,  but  to  save ;  and  though 
he  carried  his  victorious  army  to  feed  on  the  Southron  plains, 
and  sent  the  harvests  of  England  to  restore  the  wasted  fields 
of  Scotland,  yet  he  did  no  more.  No  fire  blasted  his  path  ;  no 
innocent;  blood  cried  against  him  from  the  ground.  When  the 
impetuous  zeal  of  his  soldiers,  flushed  with  victory,  and  in  the 
heat  of  vengeance,  would  have  laid  several  hamlets  in  ashes, 
he  seized  the  brand  from  the  destroying  party,  and,  throwing 
it  into  an  adjoining  brook,  "  Show  yourselves  worthy  the  ad- 
vantages you  have  gained,"  cried  he,  "  by  the  moderation  with 
which  you  use  them.  Consider  yourselves  as  the  soldiers  of 
the  All-powerful  God,  who  alone  has  conducted  you  to  victory  ; 
for  with  a  few  has  he  not  enabled  us  to  subdue  a  host  ?  Be- 
have as  becomes  your  high  destiny,  and  debase  not  yourselves 
by  imitating  the  hirelings  of  ambition,  who  receive,  as  the 
wages  of  their  valor,  the  base  privilege  to  ravage  and  to 
murder. 

"  I  wish  you  to  distinguish  between  a  spirit  of  reprisal  in 
what  I  do,  and  that  of  retaliation,  which  actuates  your  present 
violence.  Wliat  our  enemies  have  robbed  us  of,  as  far  as  they 
can  restore,  I  can  take  again.  Their  bread  shall,  feed  our  fam- 
ishing country ;  their  wool  clothe  its  nakedness.  But  blood 
for  blood,  unless  the  murderer  could  be  made  to  bleed,  is  a 
doctrine  abhorrent  to  God  and  to  humanity.  What  justice 
is  there  in  destroying  the  habitations  and  lives  of  a  set  of 


12  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

harmless  people  because  the  like  cruelty  has  been  committed 
by  a  lawless  army  of  their  countrymen  upon  our  unoffending 
brethren  ?  Your  hearts  may  make  the  answer.  But  if  they 
are  hardened  against  the  pleadings  of  humanity,  let  prudence 
show  your  interest  in  leaving  those  men  alive,  and  with  their 
means  unimpaired,  who  will  produce  other  harvests,  if  need 
be,  to  fill  our  scantier  granaries. 

"  Thus  I  reason  with  you,  and  I  hope  many  are  convinced. 
But  they  who  are  insensible  to  argument  must  fear  authority, 
and  I  declare,  that  every  man  who  inflicts  injury  on  the 
houses  or  on  the  persons  of  the  quiet  peasantry  of  this  land, 
shall  be  punished  as  a  traitor  to  the  state." 

According  to  the  different  dispositions  of  men,  this  reason- 
ing prevailed.  And  from  the  end  of  September  (the  time 
when  Wallace  first  entered  Northumberland)  to  the  month  of 
November,  when,  having  scoured  the  counties  of  England, 
even  to  the  gates  of  York,  he  returned  to  Scotland,  not  an  of- 
fence was  committed  which  could  occasion  his  merciful  spirit 
regret.  It  was  on  All-Saints'  day  when  he  again  approached 
the  Esk,  and  so  great  was  his  spoil,  that  his  return  seemed 
more  like  some  vast  caravan  moving  the  merchandise  of  half 
the  world,  than  the  march  of  an  army  which  had  so  lately 
passed  that  river  a  famishing  though  valorous  host. 

The  outposts  of  Carlaveroch  soon  informed  Maxwell  Xhat  the 
lord  regent  was  in  sight.  At  the  joyful  intelligence  a  double 
smoke  streamed  from  every  watch-hill  in  Annandale ;  and  Sir 
Eustace  had  hardly  appeared  on  the  Solway  bank  to  meet  his 
triumphant  chief  when  the  eager  speed  of  the  rough  knight  of 
Torthorald  brought  him  there  also.  Wallace,  as  his  proud 
charger  plunged  into  the  ford  and  the  heavy  wagons  groaned 
after  him,  was  welcomed  to  the  shore  by  the  shouts  not  only 
of  the  soldiers  which  had  followed  Maxwell  and  Kirkpatrick, 
but  by  the  people,  who  came  in  crowds  to  hail  their  preserver. 
The  squalid  hue  of  famine  had  left  every  face,  and  each  smil- 
ing countenance,  beaming  with  health,  security,  and  gratitude, 
told  Wallace,  more  emphatically  than  a  thousand  tongues,  the 
wisdom  of  the  means  he  had  used  to  regenerate  his  country. 

Maxwell  had  prepared  the  fortress  of  Lochmaben,  once  the 
residence  of  Bruce,  for  the  reception  of  the  regent.  And 
thither  Wallace  was  conducted,  in  prouder  triumph  than  ever 
followed  the  chariot  wheels  of  Caesar.  Blessings  were  the 
clarions  that  preceded  him,  and  hosts  of  people,  whom  he  had 
saved  when  ready  to  perish,  were  voluntary  actors  in  his 
pageant. 


LOCHMABEN    CASTLE.  13 

When  lie  arrived  in  sight  of  the  two  capacious  lochs  which 
spread  like  lucid  wings  on  each  side  of  the  castle,1  he  turned 
to  Graham.  "  What  pity,"  said  he,  "  that  the  rightful  owner 
of  this  truly  regal  dwelling  does  not  act  as  becomes  his  blood ! 
He  might  now  be  entering  its  gates  as  a  king,  and  Scotland 
find  rest  under  its  lawful  monarch." 

"  But  he  prefers  being  a  parasite  in  the  court  of  a  tyrant," 
replied  Sir  John,  "  and  from  such  a  school  Scotland  would  re- 
ject its  king." 

"  But  he  has  a  son,"  replied  Wallace  ;  "  a  brave  and  generous 
son.  I  am  told  by  Lord  Montgomery,  who  knew  him  in 
Guienne,  that  a  nobler  spirit  does  not  exist.  On  his  brows, 
my  dear  Graham,  we  must  hope  one  day  to  see  the  crown." 

"  Then  only  as  your  heir,  my  lord  regent,"  interrupted 
Maxwell ;  "  for  while  you  live,  I  can  answer  for  it  that  no  Scot 
will  acknowledge  any  other  ruler." 

"I  will  first  eat  my  own  sword,"  cried  Kirkpatrick. 

At  this  moment  the  portcullis  of  the  gate  was  raised,  and 
Maxwell  falling  back  to  make  way  for  the  regent,  Wallace 
had  not  time  to  answer  a  sentiment,  now  so  familiar  to  him, 
by  hearing  it  from  every  grateful  heart,  that  he  hardly  re- 
marked its  tendency;  a  fact  the  more  easily  to  be  believed 
from  the  ambition  of  such  reward  never  receiving  acceptance 
in  his  well-principled  mind. 

Ever  pressing  towards  establishing  the  happiness  of  his 
country,  he  hastened  over  the  splendid  repast  that  was  pre- 
pared for  him,  and  dispensing  with  the  ceremonials,  with 
which  the  zeal  of  Maxwell  sought  to  display  his  respect  for 
the  virtues  and  station  of  his  commander,  he  retired  with 
Graham  to  write  despatches  and  to  apportion*  shares  of  the 
spoil  to  the  necessities  of  the  provinces.  In  these  duties  his 
wakeful  eyes  were  kept  open  the  greatest  part  of  the  night. 
They  for  whom  he  labored  slept  securely.  That  thought  was 
rest  to  him.  But  they  closed  not  their  eyes  without  praying 
for  the  sweet  repose  of  their  benefactor.  And  he  found  it,  not 
in  sleep,  but  in  that  peace  of  heart  which  the  world  cannot 
give. 

1  The  situation  of  the  noble  ruin  ia  one  of  the  most  striking  scenes  in  the  south  of 
Scotland. 


14  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

CHAPTER   XLVI. 

LAMMINGTON. 

DAY  succeeded  day  in  the  execution  of  these  beneficial 
designs.  When  fulfilled,  the  royal  halls  of  Lochmaben  did  not 
long  detain  him  who  knew  no  satisfaction  but  when  going 
about  doing  good.  While  he  was  then  employed,  raising  with 
the  quickness  of  magic,  by  the  hands  of  his  soldiers,  the  lately 
ruined  hamlets  into  well-built  villages  ;  while  the  gray  smoke 
curled  from  a  thousand  russet  cottages,  which  now  spotted  the 
sides  of  the  snow-clad  hills ;  while  all  the  lowlands,  whither- 
soever he  directed  his  steps,  breathed  of  comfort  and  abun- 
dance, he  felt  like  the  father  of  a  large  family  in  the  midst  of 
a  happy  and  vast  home,  where  every  eye  turned  on  him  with 
reverence,  every  lip  with  gratitude. 

He  "had  hardly  gone  the  circuit  of  these  now  cheerful 
valleys  when  an  embassy  from  England,  which  had  first 
touched  at  Lochmaben,  overtook  him  at  the  tower  of  Lam- 
mington.  The  ambassadors  were  Edmund,  Earl  of  Arundel 
(a  nobleman  who  had  married  the  only  sister  of  De  Warenne's), 
and  Anthony  Beck,  Bishop  of  Durham. 

.  At  the  moment  their  splendid  cavalcade,  escorted  by  a  party 
from  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell,  entered  the  gate  of  Lammington, 
Wallace  was  in  the  hourly  expectation  of  Edwin,  and  hearing 
the  trampling  of  horses  he  hastened  into  the  court-yard, 
attended  by  Gregory's  grandchildren.  One  was  in  his  arms, 
two  others  held  by  his  plaid,  and  a  third  played  with  the  sword 
he  had  unbuckled  from  his  side.  It  was  a  clear  frosty  day, 
and  the  keenness  of  the  air  brightened  the  complexion  of  Wal- 
lace, while  it  deepened  the  roses  of  his  infant  companions. 
The  leader  of  the  Scottish  escort  immediately  proclaimed  to 
the  ambassadors  that  this  was  the  regent.  At  sight  of  so  un- 
courtly  a  scene,  the  haughty  prelate  of  Durham  drew  back. 

"  This  man  will  not  understand  his  own  interest,'7  said  he, 
in  a  disdainful  whisper  to  Lord  Arundel. 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think  his  estimation  of  it  will  be  beyond 
ours."  As  the  earl  made  this  reply,  the  officer  of  Maxwell  in- 
formed Wallace  of  the  names  and  errand  of  the  illustrious 
strangers.  At  the  mention  of  a  Southron,  the  elder  children 
ran  screaming  into  the  house,  leaving  the  youngest,  who  con- 
tinued on  the  breast  of  Wallace. 


LAMMINGTON.  15 

The  bishop  drew  near. 

"We  come,  Sir  William  Wallace,"  cried  the  prelate,  in  a 
tone  whose  lordly  pitch  lowered  when  his  surprised  eye  saw 
the  princely  dignity  which  shone  over  the  countenance  of  the 
man  whose  domestic  appearance,  when  descried  at  a  distance, 
had  excited  his  contempt,  "  we  come  from  the  King  of  England 
with  a  message  for  your  private  ear." 

"  And  I  hope,  gallant  chief,"  joined  Lord  Arundel,  "  what 
we  have  to  impart  will  give  peace  to  both  nations,  and  estab- 
lish in  honor  the  most  generous,  as  well  as  the  bravest,  of 
enemies." 

Wallace  bowed  to  the  earl's  compliment  (he  knew  by  his 
title  he  must  be  the  brother  of  De  Warenne),  and,  resigning 
the  child  into  the  arms  of  Graham,  with  a  graceful  welcome 
he  conducted  the  Southron  lords  into  the  hall. 

Lord  Arundel  looking  around,  said,  "  Are  we  alone,  Sir 
William  ?  " 

"Perfectly,"  he  replied;  "and  I  am  ready  to  receive  any 
proposals  for  peace  which  the  rights  of  Scotland  will  allow 
her  to  accept." 

The  earl  drew  from  his  bosom  a  gold  casket,  and  laying  it 
on  a  table  before  him,  addressed  the  regent :  "  Sir  William 
Wallace,  I  come  to  you  not  with  the  denunciations  of  an 
implacable  liege  lord  whom  a  rash  vassal  has  offended,  but  in 
the  grace  of  the  most  generous  of  mouarchs,  anxious  to  con- 
vert a  brave  insurgent  into  a  loyal  friend.  My  lord  the  king, 
having  heard,  by  letters  from  my  brother-in-law,  the  Earl  de 
Warenne,  of  the  honorable  manner  with  which  you  treated 
the  English  whom  the  fate  of  battle  threw  into  your  power, 
his  majesty,  instead  of  sending  over  from  Flanders  a  mighty 
army  to  overwhelm  this  rebellious  kingdom,  has  deputed  me, 
even  as  an  ambassador,  to  reason  with  the  rashness  he  is 
ready  to  pardon.  Also,  with  this  diadem,"  continued  the  earl, 
drawing  a  circlet  of  jewels  from  the  casket,  "  which  my  brave 
sovereign  tore  from  the  brows  of  a  Saracen  prince  on  the 
ramparts  of  Acre,  he  sends  the  assurance  of  his  regard  for 
the  heroic  virtues  of  his  enemy.  And  to  these  jewels,  he 
commands  me  to  say,  he  will  add  a  more  efficient  crown,  if 
Sir  William  Wallace  will  awake  from  this  trance  of  false 
enthusiasm,  and  acknowledge,  as  he  is  in  duty  bound  to  do, 
the  supremacy  of  England  over  this  country.  Speak  but  the 
word,  noblest  of  Scots,"  added  the  earl,  "  and  the  Bishop  of 
Durham  has  orders  from  the  generous  Edward  immediately  to 
anoint  you  King  of  Scotland ;  that  done,  my  royal  master  will 


16  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

support  you  in  your  throne  against  every  man  who  may  dare 
to  dispute  your  authority." 

At  these  words  Wallace  rose  from  his  seat.  "My  lord," 
said  he,  "  since  I  took  up  arms  for  injured  Scotland  I  have  been 
used  to  look  into  the  hearts  of  men ;  I  therefore  estimate  with 
every  due  respect  the  compliment  which  this  message  of  your 
king  pays  to  my  virtues.  Had  he  thought  that  I  deserved  the 
confidence  of  Scotland  he  would  not  have  insulted  me  with  offer- 
ing a  price  for  my  allegiance.  To  be  even  a  crowned  vassal  of 
King  Edward  is  far  beneath  my  ambition.  Take  back  the 
Saracen's  diadem ;  it  shall  never  dishonor  the  brows  of  him 
who  has  sworn  by  the  Cross  to  maintain  the  independence  of 
Scotland,  or  to  lay  down  his  life  in  the  struggle." 

"  Weigh  well,  brave  sir,"  resumed  the  earl,  "  the  consequences 
of  this  answer.  Edward  will  soon  be  in  England ;  he  will 
march  hither  himself,  not  at  the  head  of  such  armies  as  you 
have  discomfited,  but  with  countless  legions,  and  when  he  falls 
upon  any  country  in  indignation  the  places  of  its  cities  are 
known  no  more." 

"  Better  for  a  brave  people  so  to  perish,"  replied  Wallace, 
"  than  to  exist  in  dishonor." 

"  What  dishonor,  noble  Scot,  can  accrue  from  acknowledging 
the  supremacy  of  your  liege  lord  ?  or  to  what  can  the  proudest 
ambition  in  Scotland  extend  beyond  that  of  possessing  its 
throne?" 

"  I  am  not  such  a  slave,"  cried  Wallace,  "  as  to  prefer  what 
men  might  call  aggrandizement  before  the  higher  destiny  of 
preserving  to  my  country  its  birthright  independence.  To  be 
the  guardian  of  her  laws,  and  of  the  individual  rights  of  every 
man  born  on  Scottish  ground,  is  my  ambition.  Ill  should  I  per- 
form the  one  duty  were  I  to  wrong  the  posterity  of  Alexander 
by  invading  their  throne,  and  horrible  would  be  my  treason 
against  the  other  could  I  sell  my  confiding  country  for  a  name 
and  a  bauble  into  the  grasp  of  a  usurper." 

"Brand  not  with  so  unjust  an  epithet  the  munificent 
Edward,"  interrupted  Lord  Arundel ;  "  let  your  own  noble 
nature  be  a  witness  of  his.  Put  from  you  all  the  prejudices 
which  the  ill  conduct  of  his  officers  have  excited,  and  you  must 
perceive,  that  in  accepting  his  terms  you  will  best  repay  your 
country's  confidence  by  giving  it  peace." 

"  So  great  would  be  my  damning  sin  in  such  an  acceptance," 
cried  Wallace,  "  that  I  should  be  abhorred  by  God  and  man. 
You  talk  of  noble  minds,  earl ;  look  into  your  own,  and  will  it 
not  tell  you  that  in  the  moment  a  people  bring  themselves  to 


LAMMINGTON.  17 

put  the  command  of  their  actions,  and  with  that  their  con- 
sciences, into  the  hands  of  a  usurper  (and  that  Edward  is  one 
in  Scotland  our  annals  and  his  tyrannies  declare),  they  sell 
their  birthright  and  become  unworthy  the  name  of  men  ?  In 
that  deed  they  abjure  the  gift  with  which  God  had  intrusted 
them,  and  justly  the  angels  of  his  host  depart  from  them.  You 
know  the  sacred  axiom  —  Virtue  is  better  than  life.  By  that 
we  are  commanded  to  preserve  the  one  at  the  expense  of  the 
other,  and  we  are  ready  to  obey.  Neither  the  threats  nor  the 
blandishments  of  Edward  have  power  to  shake  the  resolves  of 
them  who  '  draw  the  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon.' "  ' 

"  Rebellious  man ! "  exclaimed  Beck,  who  listened  im- 
patiently, and  whose  haughty  spirit  could  ill  brook  such  tower- 
ing language  being  directed  to  his  sovereign,  "  since  you  dare 
quote  Scripture  to  sanction  crime  hear  my  embassage :  To 
meet  the  possibility  of  this  flagitious  obstinacy,  I  came  armed 
with  the  thunder  of  the  church  and  the  indignation  of  a  justly 
incensed  monarch.  Accept  his  most  gracious  offers  delivered 
to  you  by  the  Earl  of  Arundel.  Here  is  the  cross  t'o  receive 
your  oath  of  fealty,"  cried  he,  stretching  it  forth  as  if  he 
thought  his  commands  were  irresistible  ;  "  but  beware !  keep  it 
with  a  truer  faith  than  did  the  traitor  Baliol,  or  expect  the 
malediction  of  Heaven,  —  the  exterminating  vengeance  of  your 
liege  lord  ! " 

Wallace  was  not  discomposed  by  this  attack  from  the 
stormy  prelate.  "  My  Lord  of  Durham,"  replied  he  with  his 
usual  tranquil  air,  "  had  your  sovereign  sent  me  such  proposals 
as  became  a  just  king,  and  were  possible  for  an  honest  Scot  to 
admit,  he  should  have  found  me  ready  to  have  treated  him 
with  the  respect  due  to  his  rank  and  honor.  But  when  he  de- 
mands the  sacrifice  of  my  integrity ;  when  he  asks  me  to  sign 
a  deed  that  would  again  spread  this  renovated  land  with 
devastation  —  were  I  to  consider  the  glossing  language  of  his 
embassy  as  grace  and  nobleness,  I  should  belie  my  own  truth, 
which  tramples  alike  on  his  menaces  and  his  pretended  claims. 
And  I  ask  you,  priest  of  Heaven,  is  he  a  god  greater  than 
Jehovah,  that  I  should  fear  him?" 

"  And  durst  thou  presume,  audacious  rebel ! "  exclaimed 
Beck,  "  that  the  light  of  Israel  deigns  to  shine  on  a  barbarian 
nation  in  arms  against  a  hero  of  the  Cross  ?  Reprobate  that 
thou  art,  answer  to  thine  own  condemnation !  Does  not  the 

1  Gideon  was  a  character  held  in  such  respect  by  Wallace  that  he  seems  to  have  re- 
garded  him  as  his  particular  example.  Gideon's  was  a  patriot's  sword,  and  Heaven 
blessed  his  arms.  The  reference  to  Gideon  in  this  reply  corresponds  with  his  former 
one.—  (1809.) 

Vol.  II.  — 2 


18  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

church  declare  the  claims  of  Edward  to  be  just  ?  and  who 
dares  gainsay  her  decrees  ? " 

"The  voice  of  Him  you  pretend  to  serve.  He  is  no  re- 
specter of  persons ;  He  raises  the  poor  from  the  dust,  and  by 
His  arm  the  tyrant  and  his  host  are  plunged  into  the  whelming 
waves.  Bishop,  I  know  in  whom  I  trust.  Is  the  minister 
greater  than  his  Lord,  that  I  should  believe  the  word  of  a 
synod  against  the  declared  will  of  God  ?  Neither  anathema 
nor  armed  thousands  shall  make  me  acknowledge  the  suprem- 
acy of  Edward.  He  may  conquer  the  body,  but  the  soul  of  a 
patriot  he  can  never  subdue." 

"  Then,"  cried  Beck,  suddenly  rising,  black  with  choler,  and 
stretching  his  crosier  over  the  head  of  Wallace,  "  as  the  rod  of 
Moses  shed  plagues,  miseries,  and  death  over  the  land  of 
Egypt,  I  invoke  the  like  judgments  to  fall  on  this  rebellious 
land,  on  its  blasphemous  leader.  And  thus  I  leave  it  my 
curse." 

Wallace  smiled  as  the  terrific  words  fell  from  the  lips  of 
this  demon  in  sacred  guise.  Lord  Arundel  observed  him. 
"  You  despise  this  malediction,  Sir  William  Wallace.  I 
thought  more  piety  had  dwelt  with  so  much  military  noble- 
ness." 

"I  should  not  regard  the  curses  of  a  congregated  world," 
replied  Wallace,  "  when  my  conscience  as  loudly  proclaims 
that  God  is  on  my  side.  And  is  he  not  omniscient,  that  he 
should  be  swayed  by  the  prejudices  of  men  ?  Does  he  not 
read  the  heart  ?  Is  he  not  master  of  all  causes  ?  And  shall 
I  shrink  when  I  know  that  I  hold  his  commission  ?  Shall  I 
not  regard  these  anathemas  even  as  the  artillery  with  which 
the  adversary  would  drive  me  from  my  post  ?  But  did  the 
clouds  rain  fire,  and  the  earth  open  beneath  me,  I  would  not 
stir;  for  I  know  who  planted  me  here;  and  as  long  as  he 
wills  me  to  stand,  neither  men  nor  devils  can  move  me  hence." 

"  Thou  art  incorrigible  ! "  cried  Beck. 

"I  would  say,  firm,"  rejoined  Arundel,  overawed  by  the 
majesty  of  virtue,  "  could  I  regard,  as  he  does,  the  cause  he 
has  espoused.  But,  as  it  is,  noble  Wallace,  continued  he,  "  I 
must  regret  your  infatuation  ;  and  instead  of  the  peace  I 
thought  to  leave  with  you,  hurl  war,  never-ending,  extirpating 
war,  upon  the  head  of  this  devoted  nation."  As  he  spoke  he 
threw  his  lance '  against  the  opposite  wall,  in  which  it  stuck 
and  stood  shivering;  then  taking  up  the  casket  with  its 
splendid  contents,  he  replaced  it  in  his  bosom. 

1  To  throw  a  spear  was  an  ancient  mode  of  denouncing  war. 


LAMMINGTON.  19 

Beck  had  turned  away  in  wrath  from  the  table,  and,  advanc- 
ing with  a  magisterial  step  to  the  door,  he  threw  it  open,  as 
if  lie  thought  that  longer  to  breathe  the  same  air  with  the 
person  he  had  excommunicated  would  infect  him  with  his  own 
curses.  On  opening  the  door,  a  group  of  Scots,  who  waited  in 
the  antechamber,  hastened  forward.  At  sight  of  the  prelate 
they  raised  their  bonnets  and  hesitated  to  pass.  He  stood  on 
the  threshold,  proudly  neglectful  of  their  respect.  In  the  next 
minute  Wallace  appeared  with  Lord  Arundel. 

"Brave  knight,"  said  the  earl,  "the  adieus  of  a  man  as 
sensible  of  your  private  worth  as  he  regrets  the  errors  of 
your  public  opinions,  abide  with  you." 

"  Were  Edward  sensible  to  virtue,  like  his  brave  subjects," 
replied  the  chief,  "  I  should  not  fear  that  another  drop  of 
blood  need  be  shed  in  Scotland  to  convince  him  of  his  present 
injustice.  Farewell,  noble  earl ;  the  generous  candor  of  your- 
self and  of  your  brother-in-law  will  ever  live  in  the  remem- 
brance of  William  AVallace." 

While  he  yet  spoke  a  youth  broke  from  the  group  before 
them,  and,  rushing  towards  the  regent,  threw  himself  with  a 
cry  of  joy  at  his  feet.  " My  Edwin,  my  brother!"  exclaimed 
Wallace,  and,  immediately  raising  him  clasped  him  in  his  arms. 
The  throng  of  Scots  who  had  accompanied  their  young  leader 
from  Stirling  now  crowded  about  the  chief,  some  kneeling  and 
kissing  his  garments,  others  ejaculating  with  uplifted  hands 
their  thanks  at  seeing  their  protector  in  safety  and  with  re- 
doubled glory. 

"  You  forgive  me,  my  master  and  friend  ?  "  cried  Edwin,  for- 
getting, in  the  happy  agitation  of  his  mind,  the  presence  of 
the  English  ambassadors. 

"  It  was  only  as  a  master  I  condemned  you,  my  brother," 
returned  Wallace.  "  Every  proof  of  your  affection  must 
render  you  dearer  to  me,  and  had  it  been  exerted  against  an 
offender  not  so  totally  in  our  power  you  would  not  have  met 
my  reprimand.  But  ever  remember  that  the  persons  of  pris- 
oners are  inviolable,  for  they  lie  on  the  bosom  of  mercy,  and 
who  that  has  honor  would  take  them  thence?" 

Lord  Arundel,  who  had  lingered  to  observe  this  short  but 
animated  scene,  now  ventured  to  interrupt  it.  "  May  I  ask, 
noble  Wallace,"  said  he,  "if  this  interesting  youth  be  the 
brave  young  Ruthven  who  distinguished  himsejf  at  Dum- 
barton, and  who,  De  Warenne  told  me,  incurred  a  severe, 
though  just,  sentence  from  you,  in  consequence  of  his  attack 
upon  one  whom,  as  a  soldier,  I  blush  to  name  ? " 


20  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  It  is  the  same,"  replied  Wallace ;  "  the  valor  and  fidelity 
of  such  as  he  are  as  sinews  to  my  arms,  and  bring  a  more 
grateful  empire  to  my  heart  than  all  the  crowns  which  may  be 
in  the  power  of  Edward  to  bestow." 

"  I  have  often  seen  the  homage  of  the  body,"  said  the  earl, 
"  but  here  I  see  that  of  the  soul,  and  were  I  a  king  I  should 
envy  Sir  William  Wallace." 

"  This  speech  is  that  of  a  courtier  or  a  traitor ! "  suddenly 
exclaimed  Beck,  turning  with  a  threatening  brow  on  Lord 
Arundel.  "  Beware,  earl !  for  what  has  now  been  said  must 
be  repeated  to  the  royal  Edward,  and  he  will  judge  whether 
flattery  to  this  proud  rebel  be  consistent  with  your  alle- 
giance." 

"Every  word  that  has  been  uttered  in  this  conference1  I 
will  myself  deliver  to  King  Edward,"  replied  Lord  Arundel ; 
"  he  shall  know  the  man  on  whom  he  may  be  forced  by  justice 
to  denounce  the  sentence  of  rebellion,  and  when  the  puissance 
of  his  royal  arm  lays  this  kingdom  at  his  feet,  the  virtues  of 
Sir  William  Wallace  may  then  find  the  clemency  he  now 
contemns." 

Beck  did  not  condescend  to  listen  to  the  latter  part  of  this 
explanation,  but  proceeding  to  the  court-yard,  had  mounted 
his  horse  before  his  worthier  colleague  appeared  from  the  hall. 
Taking  a  gracious  leave  of  Sir  John  Graham,  who  attended 
him  to  the  door,  the  earl  exclaimed,  "  What  miracle  is  before 
me  !  Not  the  mighty  mover  only  of  this  wide  insurrection  is 
in  the  bloom  of  manhood,  but  all  his  generals  that  I  have  seen 
appear  in  the  very  morning  of  youth.  And  you  conquer  our 
veterans;  you  make  yourselves  names,  which,  with  us,  are  only 
purchased  by  long  experience,  and  hairs  grown  gray  in  camps 
and  battles." 

"  Then  by  our  morning  judge  what  our  day  may  be,"  replied 
Graham,  "  and  show  your  monarch  that  as  surely  as  the  night 
of  death  will  in  some  hour  close  upon  prince  and  peasant,  this 
land  shall  never  again  be  overshadowed  by  his  darkness." 

"  Listen  not  to  their  bold  treasons  ! "  cried  Beck,  and  set- 
ting spurs  to  his  horse,  in  no  very  clerical  style  he  galloped 
out  of  the  gates.  Arundel  made  some  courteous  reply  to 
Graham,  then  bowing  to  the  rest  of  the  Scottish  officers  who 
stood  around,  turned  his  steed,  and,  followed  by  his  escort, 
pursued  the  steps  of  the  bishop  along  the  snow-covered  banks 
of  the  Clyde. 

i  Wallace's  rejection  of  King  Edward's  splendid  offers  is  noted  by  the  old  British 
historians,  and  the  substance  of  his  answer  particularly  recorded.  —  (1809.) 


LAMMINGTON.  21 

CHAPTER   XLVII. 

LAMMTNGTON.  —  (Continued.) 

WHEN  Wallace  was  left  alone  with  Edwin,  the  happy  youth 
(after  expressing  delight  that  Murray  then  held  his  head- 
quarters in  Bothwell  castle)  took  from  his  bosom  two  packets, 
one  from  Lord  Mar  and  the  other  from  the  countess.  "  My 
dear  cousin/'  said  he,  "  has  sent  you  many  blessings ;  but  I 
could  not  persuade  her  to  register  even  one  on  paper,  while 
my  aunt  wrote  all  this.  Almost  ever  since  her  own  recovery, 
Helen  has  confined  herself  to  my  uncle's  sick  chamber,  now 
'totally  deserted  by  the  fair  countess,  who  seems  to  have  for- 
gotten all  duties  in  the  adulation  of  the  audience-hall." 

Wallace  remarked  on  the  indisposition  of  Mar  and  the 
attention  of  his  daughter  with  tenderness.  And  Edwin,  with 
the  unrestrained  vivacity  of  happy  friendship,  proceeded 
sportively  to  describe  the  regal  style  which  the  countess  had 
affected,  and  the  absurd  pomp  with  which  she  had  welcomed 
the  Earls  Badenoch  and  Athol  to  their  native  country.  "  In- 
deed," continued  he,  "  I  cannot  guess  what  vain  idea  has  taken 
possession  of  her ;  but  when  I  went  to  Snawdoun  to  receive 
her  commands  for  you,  I  found  her  seated  on  a  kind  of  throne, 
with  ladies  standing  in  her  presence,  and  our  younger  chief- 
tains thronging  the  gallery,  as  if  she  were  the  regent  herself. 
Helen  entered  for  a  moment,  but  amazed,  started  back,  never 
before  having  witnessed  the  morning  courts  of  her  step- 
mother." 

But  Edwin  did  not  relate  to  his  friend  all  that  had  passed 
in  the  succeeding  conference  between  him  and  his  gentle 
cousin. 

Blushing  for  her  father's  wife  Helen  would  have  retired 
immediately  to  her  own  apartments,  but  Edwin  drew  her  into 
one  of  Lady  Mar's  rooms,  and  seating  her  beside  him,  began 
to  speak  of  his  anticipated  meeting  with  Wallace.  He  held 
her  hand  in  his.  "  My  dearest  cousin,"  said  he,  "  will  not 
this  tender  hand,  which  has  suffered  so  much  for  our  brave 
friend,  write  him  one  word  of  kind  remembrance  ?  Our 
queen  here  will  send  him  volumes." 

"  Then  he  would  hardly  have  time  to  attend  to  one  of  mine," 
replied  Helen,  with  a  smile ;  "  besides,  he  requires  no  new 
assurances  to  convince  him  that  Helen  Mar  can  never  cease 
to  remember  her  benefactor  with  the  most  grateful  thoughts." 


22  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  And  is  this  all  I  am  to  say  to  him,  Helen  ?  " 

"All,  my  Edwin.'7 

"What!  not  one  word  of  the  life  you  have  led  since  he 
quitted  Stirling  ?  Shall  I  not  tell  him  that  when  this  lovely 
arm  no  longer  wore  the  livery  of  its  heroism  in  his  behalf, 
instead  of  your  appearing  at  the  gay  assemblies  of  the  count- 
ess, you  remained  immured  within  your  oratory  ?  Shall  I 
not  tell  him  that,  since  the  sickness  of  my  uncle,  you  have  sat 
days  and  nights  by  his  couch-side,  listening  to  the  despatches 
from  the  borders  —  subscribing,  with  smiles  and  tears,  to  his 
praises  of  our  matchless  regent  ?  Shall  I  not  tell  him  of 
the  sweet  maid  who  lives  here  the  life  of  a  nun  for  him  ? 
Or,  must  I  entertain  him  with  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  my 
most  unsaintly  aunt  ?  " 

Helen  had  in  vain  attempted  to  stop  him,  while  with  an  arch 
glance  at  her  mantling  blushes  he  half-whispered  these  in- 
sidious questions.  "Ah,  my  sweet  cousin,  there  is  something 
more  at  the  bottom  of  that  beating  heart  than  you  will  allow 
your  faithful  Edwin  to  peep  into  !  " 

Helen's  heart  did  beat  violently,  both  before  and  after  this 
remark ;  but  conscious,  whatever  might  be  there,  of  the  deter- 
mined purpose  of  her  soul,  she  turned  on  him  a  steady  look. 
"  Edwin,"  said  she,  "  there  is  nothing  in  my  heart  that  you 
may  not  see.  That  it  reveres  Sir  William  Wallace  beyond  all 
other  men,  I  do  not  deny.  But  class  not  my  deep  veneration 
with  a  sentiment  which  may  be  jested  on.  He  has  spoken  to 
me  the  language  of  friendship ;  you  know  what  it  is  to  be  his 
friend ;  and  having  tasted  of  heaven,  I  cannot  stoop  to  earth. 
What  pleasure  can  I  find  in  pageants  —  what  interest  in  the 
admiration  of  men  ?  Is  not  he  a  brighter  object  than  I  can 
anywhere  look  upon  ?  Is  not  his  esteem  of  a  value  that  puts 
to  naught  the  homages  of  all  else  in  the  world  ?  Do  me,  then, 
justice,  my  Edwin  !  believe  me,  I  am  no  gloomy,  no  sighing 
recluse.  I  am  happy  with  my  thoughts,  and  thrice  happy  at 
the  side  of  my  father's  couch,  for  there  I  meet  the  image  of 
the  most  exemplary  of  human  beings,  and  there  I  perform 
the  duties  of  a  child  to  a  parent  deserving  all  my  love  and 
honor." 

"  Ah,  Helen !  Helen  !  "  cried  Edwin,  "  dare  I  speak  the  wish 
of  my  heart !  But  you  and  Sir  William  Wallace  would  frown 
on  me,  and  I  may  not." 

"  Then  never  utter  it,"  exclaimed  Helen,  turning  pale,  and 
trembling  from  head  to  foot,  too  well  guessing,  by  the  gener- 
ous glow  in  his  countenance,  what  would  have  been  that  wish. 


LAMMINGTON.  23 

At  this  instant  the  door  opened  and  Lady  Mar  appeared. 
Both  rose  at  her  entrance.  She  bowed  her  head  coldly  to 
Helen.  To  Edwin  she  graciously  extended  her  hand.  "  Why, 
my  dear  nephew,  did  you  not  come  into  the  audience-hall  ?" 

Edwin  answered,  smiling,  that  as  he  did  not  know  the 
Governor  of  Stirling's  lady  lived  in  the  state  of  a  queen,  he 
hoped  he  should  be  excused  for  mistaking  lords  and  ladies  in 
waiting  for  company,  and  for  that  reason,  having  retired,  till 
he  could  bid  her  adieu  in  a  less  public  scene. 

Lady  Mar,  with  much  stateliness  replied,  "  Perhaps  it  is 
necessary  to  remind  you,  Edwin,  that  I  am  more  than  Lord 
Mar's  wife.  I  am  not  only  heiress  to  the  sovereignty  of  the 
northern  isles,  but,  like  Lord  Badenoch,  am  of  the  blood  of  the 
Scottish  kings.  Rely  on  it,  I  do  not  degenerate,  and  that  I 
affect  no  state  to  which  I  may  not  pretend." 

To  conceal  an  irrepressible  laugh  at  this  proud  folly  in  a 
woman  otherwise  of  shrewd  understanding,  Edwin  turned 
towards  the  window,  but  not  before  the  countess  had  observed 
the  ridicule  which  played  on  his  lips.  Vexed,  but  afraid 
to  reprimand  one  who  might  so  soon  resent  it  by  speaking  of 
her  disparagingly  to  Wallace,  she  unburdened  the  swelling 
of  her  anger  upon  the  unoffending  Helen.  Not  doubting  that 
she  felt  as  Edwin  did,  and  fancying  that  she  saw  the  same  ex- 
pression in  her  countenance,  "Lady  Helen,"  cried  she,  "I 
request  an  explanation  of  that  look  of  derision  which  I  now 
see  on  your  face.  I  wish  to  know  whether  the  intoxication  of 
your  vanity  dare  impel  you  to  despise  claims  which  may  one 
day  be  established  to  your  confusion." 

This  attack  surprised  Helen,  who,  absorbed  in  other  medita- 
tions, had  scarcely  heard  her  mother's  words  to  Edwin.  "  I 
neither  deride  you,  Lady  Mar,  nor  despise  the  claims  of  your 
kinsman  Badenoch.  But  since  you  have  condescended  to 
speak  to  me  on  the  subject,  I  must,  out  of  respect  to  yourself 
and  duty  to  my  father,  frankly  say,  that  the  assumption  of 
honors  not  legally  in  your  possession  may  excite  ridicule  on 
him  and  even  trouble  to  our  cause." 

Provoked  at  the  just  reasoning  of  this  reply,  and  at  being 
misapprehended  with  regard  to  the  object  with  whom  she 
hoped  to  share  all  the  reflected  splendors  of  a  throne,  Lady 
Mar  answered  rather  inconsiderately,  "  Your  father  is  an  old 
man,  and  has  outlived  every  noble  emulation.  He  neither 
understands  my  actions  nor  shall  he  control  them."  Struck 
dumb  by  this  unexpected  declaration,  Helen  suffered  her  to 
proceed.  "  And  as  to  Lord  Badenoch  giving  me  the  rank  to 


24  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

which  my  birth  entitles  me,  that  is  a  foolish  dream  —  I  loofc 
to  a  greater  hand." 

"  What !  "  inquired  Edwin,  with  a  playful  bow,  "  does  my 
highness  aunt  expect  my  uncle  to  die,  and  that  Bruce  will 
come  hither  to  lay  the  crown  of  Scotland  at  her  feet  ?  " 

"  I  expect  nothing  of  Bruce  nor  of  your  uncle,"  returned 
she,  with  a  haughty  rearing  of  her  head,  "  but  I  look  for  re- 
spect from  the  daughter  of  Lord  Mar  and  from  the  friend  of 
Sir  William  Wallace." 

She  rose  from  her  chair,  and  presenting  Edwin  with  a 
packet  for  Wallace,  told  Helen  she  might  retire  to  her  own 
room. 

"  To  my  father's,  I  will,  madam,"  returned  she. 

Lady  Mar  colored  at  this  reproof,  and  turning  to  Edwin, 
more  gently  said,  "  You  know  that  the  dignity  of  his  situation 
must  be  maintained,  and  while  others  attend  his  couch,  I  must 
his  reputation." 

"  I  have  often  heard  that  '  Fame  is  better  than  life,' "  re- 
plied Edwin,  still  smilingly,  "  and  I  thank  Lady  Mar  for  show- 
ing me  how  differently  people  may  translate  the  same  lesson. 
Adieu,  dear  Helen,"  said  he,  touching  her  mantling  cheek  with 
his  lips.  "  Farewell,"  returned  she ;  "  may  good  angels  guard 
you  ! " 

The  substance  of  the  latter'  pari^of  this  scene  Edwin  did 
relate  to  Wallace.  He  smiled  at  the  vain  follies  of  the  countess 
and  broke  the  seal  of  her  letter.  It  was  in  the  same  style  with 
her  conversations  ;  at  one  moment  declaring  herself  his  disin- 
terested friend,  in  the  next,  uttering  wild  professions  of  never- 
ending  attachment.  She  deplored  the  sacrifice  which  had 
been  made  of  her  when  quite  a  child  to  the  doting  passion 
of  Lord  Mar,  and  complained  of  his  want  of  sympathy  with 
any  of  her  feelings.  Then  picturing  the  happiness  which 
must  result  from  the  reciprocal  love  of  congenial  hearts,  she 
ventured  to  show  how  truly  hers  would  unite  with  Wallace's. 
The  conclusion  of  this  strange  epistle  told  him  that  the  de- 
voted gratitude  of  all  her  relations  of  the  house  of  Cummin 
was  ready  at  any  moment  to  relinquish  their  claims  on  the 
crown,  to  place  it  on  brows  so  worthy  to  wear  it. 

The  words  of  this  letter  were  so  artfully  and  so  persuasively 
penned,  that  had  not  Edwin  described  the  inebriated  vanity  of 
Lady  Mar,  Wallace  might  have  believed  that  she  was  ambitious 
only  for  him,  and  that  could  she  share  his  heart,  his  throne 
would  be  a  secondary  object.  To  establish  this  deception  in 
his  mind,  she  added,  "  I  live  here  as  at  the  head  of  a  court, 


LAMMINGTON.  25 

and  fools  around  me  think  I  take  pleasure  in  it ;  but  did  they 
look  into  my  actions,  they  would  see  that  I  serve  while  I  seem 
to  reign.  I  am  working  in  the  hearts  of  men  for  your  ad- 
vancement." 

But  whether  this  were  her  real  motive  or  not,  it  was  the 
same  to  Wallace ;  he  felt  that  she  would  always  be,  were  she 
even  free,  not  merely  the  last  object  in  his  thoughts,  but  the 
first  in  his  aversion.  Therefore,  hastily  running  over  her  let- 
ter, he  recurred  to  a  second  perusal  of  Lord  Mar's.  In  this 
he  found  satisfactory  details  of  the  success  of  his  dispositions. 
Lord  Loch-awe  had  possessed  himself  of  the  western  coast  of 
Scotland,  from  the  Mull  of  Kintyre  to  the  farthest  mountains 
of  Glenmore.  There  the  victorious  Lord  Ruthven  had  met 
him,  having  completed  the  recovery  of  the  Highlands,  by  a 
range  of  conquests  from  the  Spey  to  the  Murray  frith  and 
Inverness-shire.  Lord  Bothwell,  also,  as  his  colleague,  had 
brought  from  the  shore  of  Ross  and  the  hills  of  Caithness 
every  Southron  banner  which  had  disgraced  their  embattled 
towers. 

Graham  was  sent  for  by  Wallace,  to  hear  these  pleasant 
tidings. 

"  Ah!  "  cried  Edwin  in  triumph,  "not  a  spot  north  of  the 
Forth  now  remains  that  does  not  acknowledge  the  supremacy 
of  the  Scottish  lion." 

"  Nor  south  of  it  either,"  returned  Graham ;  "  from  the 
Mull  of  Galloway  to  my  gallant  father's  government  on  the 
Tweed;  from  the  Cheviots  to  the  northern  ocean,  all  now  is 
our  own.  The  door  is  locked  against  England,  and  Scotland 
must  prove  unfaithful  to  herself  before  the  Southrons  can 
again  set  foot  on  her  borders." 

The  more  private  accounts  were  not  less  gratifying  to  Wal- 
lace, for  he  found  that  his  plans  for  disciplining  and  bringing 
the  people  into  order  were  everywhere  adopted,  and  that  in 
consequence  alarm  and  penury  had  given  way  to  peace  and 
abundance.  To  witness  the  success  of  his  comprehensive  de- 
signs, and  to  settle  a  dispute  between  Lord  Ruthven  and  the 
Earl  of  Athol,  relative  to  the  government  of  Perth,  Lord  Mar 
strongly  urged  him  (since  he  had  driven  the  enemy  so  many 
hundred  miles  into  their  own  country)  to  repair  immediately 
to  the  scene  of  controversy.  "  Go,"  added  the  earl,  "  through 
the  Lothians  and  across  the  Queensferry,  directly  into  Perth- 
shire. I  would  not  have  you  come  to  Stirling,  lest  it  should 
be  supposed  that  you  are  influenced  in  your  judgment  either 
by  myself  or  my  wife.  But  I  think  there  cannot  be  a  question 


26  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

that  Lord  Kuthven's  services  to  the  great  cause  invest  him 
with  a  claim  which  his  opponent  does  not  possess.  Lord  Athol 
has  none  beyond  that  of  superior  rank;  but  being  the  near 
relation  of  my  wife,  I  believe  she  is  anxious  for  his  elevation. 
Therefore,  come  not  near  us  if  you  would  avoid  female  impor- 
tunity, and  spare  me  the  pain  of  hearing  what  I  must  con- 
demn." 

Wallace  now  recollected  a  passage  in  Lady  Mar's  letter 
which,  though  not  speaking  out,  insinuated  how  she  expected 
he  would  decide.  She  said,  "  As  your  interest  is  mine,  my 
noble  friend,  all  that  belongs  to  me  is  yours.  My  kindred,  are 
not  withheld  in  the  gift  my  devoted  heart  bestows  on  you. 
Use  them  as  your  own  ;  make  them  bulwarks  around  your 
power,  the  creatures  of  your  will,  the  instruments  of  your 
benevolence,  the  defenders  of  your  rights." 

Well  pleased  to  avoid  another  rencontre  with  this  lady's  love 
and  ambition,  Wallace  sent  off  the  substance  of  these  de- 
spatches to  Murray  ;  and  next  morning,  taking  a  tender  leave 
of  the  venerable  Gregory  and  his  family,  with  Edwin  and  Sir 
John  Graham  he  set  off  for  the  Frith  of  Forth. 


CHAPTER   XLYIII. 

LOCH-AWE. 

IT  was  on  the  eve  of  St.  ^Nicholas  that  the  boat  which  con- 
tained Wallace  drew  near  to  the  coast  of  Fife.  A  little  to  the 
right  towered  the  tremendous  precipice  of  Kinghorn. 

"  Behold,  Edwin,"  said  he,  "  the  cause  of  all  our  woe !  From 
those  horrible  cliffs  fell  the  best  of  kings,  the  good  Alexander. 
My  father  accompanied  him  in  that  fatal  ride,  and  was  one  of 
the  unhappy  group  who  had  the  evil  hap  to  find  his  mangled 
body  amongst  the  rocks  below." 

"  I  have  heard,"  observed  Graham,  "  that  the  sage  of  Ercil- 
down  prophesied  this  dreadful  calamity  to  Scotland." 
.  "  He  did  prognosticate,"  replied  Wallace,  "  that  on  the 
eighteenth  of  April  a  storm  should  burst  over  this  land  which 
would  lay  the  country  in  ruins.  Fear  seized  the  farmers,  but 
his  prophecy  regarded  a  nobler  object  than  their  harvests. 
The  day  came,  rose  unclouded,  and  continued  perfectly  serene. 
Lord  March,  to  whom  the  seer  had  presaged  the  event,  at  noon 
reproached  him  with  the  unlikeliness  of  its  completion.  But 


LOCH- A  WE.  27 

even  at  the  moment  he  was  ridiculing  the  sage,  a  man  on  a 
foaming  steed  arrived  at  the  gate  with  tidings  that  the  king 
had  accidentally  fallen  from  the  precipice  of  Kinghorn,  and  was 
killed.  '  This/  said  the  Lord  of  Ercildown,  '  is  the  scathing 
wind  and  dreadful  tempest  which  shall  long  blow  calamity  and 
trouble  on  the  realm  of  Scotland.'  And  surely  his  words 
have  been  verified ;  for  still  the  storm  rages  around  our  bor- 
ders, and  will  not  cease,  I  fear,  till  the  present  dragon  of  Eng- 
land be  laid  as  low  as  our  noble  lion  was  by  that  mysterious 
blast."  l  . 

The  like  discourse  held  the  friends  till  they  landed  at 
Roseyth  castle,  where  they  lodged  for  the  night:  and  next 
morning,  recommencing  their  journey  at  daybreak,  they  crossed 
the  Lomonds  under  a  wintry  sun,  and  entered  Perth  in  the 
midst  of  a  snow-storm. 

The  regent's  arrival  soon  spread  throughout  the  province, 
and  the  hall  of  the  castle  was  speedily  crowded  with  chieftains 
come  to  pay  their  respiects  to  their  benefactor,  while  an  army 
of  grateful  peasantry  from  the  hills  filled  the  suburbs  of  the 
town,  begging  for  one  glance  only  of  their  beloved  lord.  To 
oblige  them,  Wallace  mounted  his  horse,  and  between  the 
Lords  Ruthven  and  Athol,  with  his  bonnet  off,  rode  from  the 
castle  to  the  populace-covered  plain  which  lay  to  the  west  of 
the  city.  He  gratified  their  affectionate  eagerness  by  this 
condescension,  and  received  in  return  the  sincere  homage  of  a 
thousand  grateful  hearts.  The  snow-topped  Grampians  echoed 
with  the  proud  acclamations  of  "  Our  deliverer ! "  "  Our  prince ! " 
"  The  champion  of  Scotland  !  "  "  The  glorious  William  Wal- 
lace ! "  and  the  shores  of  the  Tay  resounded  with  similar  re- 
joicings at  sight  of  him  who  had  made  the  Scottish  seamen 
lords  of  the  northern  ocean. 

Ruthven  beheld  this  eloquence  of  nature  with  sympathetic 
feelings.  His  just  sense  of  the  unequalled  merits  of  the 
regent  had  long  internally  acknowledged  him  as  his  sovereign, 
and  he  smiled  with  approbation  at  every  breathing  amongst 
the  people  which  intimated  what  would  at  last  be  their  gen- 
eral shout.  Wallace  had  proved  himself  not  only  a  warrior 
but  a  legislator.  In  the  midst  of  war  he  had  planted  the  fruits 
of  peace,  and  now  the  olive  and  the  vine  waved  abundant  on 
every  hill. 

Different  were  the  thoughts  of  the  gloomy  Athol,  as  he  rode 

1  Alexander  III.  was  killed  in  this  manner  on  the  18th  of  April,  1290,  just  seven  years 
before  the  consequent  calamities  of  his  country  made  it  necessary  for  Wallace  to  rise  in 
its  defence.  Holinshed  gives  a  circumstantial  account  of  Thomas  of  Learraont's  (or,  as 
the  translator  of  Hector  Boetius  names  him,  Thomas  of  Ercildowu's)  prophecy  of  this 
event.  —  (1809.) 


28  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

by  the  side  of  the  regent.  Could  he  by  a  look  have  blasted 
those  valiant  arms,  have  palsied  that  youthful  head,  whose 
judgment  shamed  the  hoariest  temples,  gladly  would  he  have 
made  Scotland  the  sacrifice,  so  that  he  might  never  again  find 
himself  in  the  triumphant  train  of  one  whom  he  deemed  a  boy 
and  an  upstart.  Thus  did  he  muse,  and  thus  did  envy  open  a 
way  into  his  soul  for  those  demons  to  enter,  which  were  so 
soon  to  possess  it  with  the  fellest  designs. 

The  issue  of  Kuthven's  claims  did  not  lessen  Lord  Athol's 
hatred  of  the  regent.  Wallace  simply  stated  the  cause  to 
him,  only  changing  the  situations  of  the  opponents ;  he  sup- 
posed Athol  to  be  in  the  place  of  Ruthven,  and  then  asked 
the  frowning  earl  —  if  Ruthven  had  demanded  a  government 
which  Athol  had  bravely  won,  and  nobly  secured,  whether  he 
should  deem  it  just  to  be  sentenced  to  relinquish  it  into  the 
hands  of  his  rival  ?  By  this  question  he  was  forced  to  decide 
against  himself.  But  while  Wallace  generously  hoped  that  by 
having  made  him  his  own  judge,  he  had  found  an  expedient 
both  to  soften  the  pain  of  disappointment  and  to  lessen  the 
humiliation  of  defeat,  he  had  only  redoubled  the  hatred  of 
Athol,  who  thought  he  had  thus  been  cajoled  out  of  even  the 
privilege  of  complaint.  He,  however,  affected  to  be  reconciled 
to  the  issue  of  the  affair,  and  taking  a  friendly  leave  of  the 
regent  retired  to  Blair ;  and  there  amongst  the  numerous 
fortresses  which  owned  his  power,  amongst  the  stupendous 
strongholds  of  nature,  the  cloud-invested  mountains,  and  the 
labyrinthine  winding  of  his  lochs  and  streams,  he  determined 
to  pass  his  days  and  nights  in  devising  the  sure  fall  of  this 
proud  usurper.  For  so  the  bitterness  of  an  envy  he  durst 
not  yet  breathe  to  any,  impelled  him  internally  to  designate 
the  unpretending  Wallace. 

Meanwhile  the  unconscious  object  of  this  hatred,  oppressed 
by  the  overwhelming  crowds  constantly  assembling  at  Perth 
to  do  him  homage,  retired  to  Hunting-tower,  a  castle  of  Lord 
Ruthven's,  at  some  distance  from  the  town.  Secluded  from 
the  throng,  he  there  arranged  with  the  chiefs  of  several  clans 
matters  of  consequence  to  the  internal  repose  of  the  country, 
but  receiving  applications  for  similar  regulations  from  the 
counties  farther  north,  he  decided  on  going  thither  himself. 
Severe  as  the  weather  was  at  that  season,  he  bade  adieu  to  the 
warm  hospitalities  of  Hunting-tower,  and  accompanied  by 
Graham  and  his  young  friend  Edwin,  with  a  small  but  faith- 
ful train,  he  commenced  a  journey  which  he  intended  should 
comprehend  the  circuit  of  the  Highlands. 


LOCH-A  WE.  29 

With  the  chieftain  of  almost  every  castle  in  his  progress  he 
passed  a  day,  and  according  to  the  interest  which  the  situation 
of  the  surrounding  peasantry  created  in  his  mind,  he  lengthened 
his  sojourn.  Everywhere  he  was  welcomed  with  enthusiasm, 
and  his  glad  eye  beheld  the  festivities  of  Christmas  with  a 
delight  which  recalled  past  emotions  till  they  wrung  his  heart. 

The  last  day  of  the  old  year  he  spent  with  Lord  Loch-awe 
in  Kilchurn  castle,1  and  after  a  bounteous  feast  in  which  lord 
and  vassal  joined,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  country  the 
whole  family  sat  up  the  night  to  hail  the  coining  in  of  the 
new  season.  Wallace  had  passed  that  hour  twelve  months 
ago  alone  with  his  Marion.  They  sat  together  in  the  window 
of  the  eastern  tower  of  Ellerslie,  and  while  he  listened  to  the 
cheerful  lilts  to  which  their  servants  were  dancing,  the  hand 
of  his  lovely  bride  was  clasped  in  his.  Marion  smiled,  and 
talked  of  the  happiness  which  should  await  them  in  the  year 
to  come.  "  Ay,  my  beloved,"  answered  he,  "  more  than  thy 
beauteous  self  will  then  till  these  happy  arms.  Thy  babe,  my 
wife,  will  then  hang  at  thy  bosom  to  bless  with  a  parent's  joys 
thy  grateful  husband."  That  time  was  now  come  around,  and 
where  was  Marion  ?  — cold  in  her  grave.  Where  that  smiling 
babe  ?  —  a  murderer's  steel  had  reached  it  ere  it  saw  the  light. 

Wallace  groaned  at  these  recollections  ;  he  struck  his  hand 
forcibly  on  his  bursting  heart  and  fled  from  the  room.  The 
noise  of  the  harps,  the  laughing  of  the  dancers,  prevented  his 
emotions  from  being  observed ;  and  rushing  far  from  the  joyous 
tumult  till  its  sounds  died  in  the  breeze  or  were  only  brought 
to  his  ear  by  fitful  gusts,  he  speeded  along  the  margin  of  the 
lake  as  if  he  would  have  flown  even  from  himself.  But 
memory,  racking  memory,  followed  him.  Throwing  himself 
on  a  bank  over  which  the  ice  hung  in  pointed  masses,  he  felt 
not  the  roughness  of  the  ground,  for  all  within  him  was  dis- 
turbed and  at  war. 

"  Why,"  cried  he,  "  oh,  why  was  I  selected  for  this  cruel 
sacrifice  ?  Why  was  this  heart  to  whom  the  acclaim  of  multi- 
tudes could  bring  no  selfish  joy,  why  was  it  to  be  bereft  of  all 
that  ever  made  it  beat  with  transport  ?  Companion  of  my 
days,  partner  of  my  soul !  my  lost,  lost  Marion  !  and  are  thine 
eyes  forever  closed  on  me  ?  Shall  I  never  more  clasp  that 
hand  which  ever  thrilled  my  frame  with  every  sense  of  rapt- 
ure ?  Gone,  gone  forever,  and  I  am  alone  ! " 

Long  and  agonizing  was  the  pause  which  succeeded  to  this 

1  The  fine  ruins  of  Kilchurn  castle  are  still  to  be  seen  oil  a  rocky  point  projecting 
into  Loch-awe.  The  lofty  Ben  Cruachan  rises  immediately  behind  the  castle  in  stupen- 
dous grandeur.  —  (1809.) 


30  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

fearful  tempest  of  feeling.  In  that  hour  of  grief,  renewed  in 
all  its  former  violence,  he  forgot  country,  friends,  and  all  on 
earth.  The  recollection  of  his  fame  was  mockery  to  him,  for 
where  was  she  to  whom  the  sound  of  his  praises  would  have 
given  so  much  joy  ? 

"  Ah  !  "  said  he,  "  it  was  indeed  happiness  to  be  brightened 
in  those  eyes  !  When  the  gratitude  of  our  poor  retainers  met 
thine  ear,  how  didst  thou  lay  thy  soft  cheek  to  mine  and  shoot 
its  gentle  warmth  into  my  heart ! "  At  that  moment  he  turned 
his  face  on  the  gelid  bank.  Starting  with  wild  horror  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Is  it  now  so  cold  !  My  Marion,  my  murdered  wife  !  " 
and  rushing  from  the  spot,  he  again  hastened  along  the  margin 
of  the  loch  ;  but  there  he  still  heard  the  distant  sound  of  the 
pipes  from  the  castle.  He  could  not  bear  their  gay  notes,  and 
darting  up  the  hill  which  overhung  Loch-awe's  domains,  he 
ascended  with  swift  and  reckless  steps  the  rocky  sides  of  Ben 
Cruachan.  Full  of  distracting  thoughts,  and  impelled  by  a 
wild  despair,  he  hurried  from  steep  to  steep,  and  was  rapidly 
descending  the  western  side  of  the  mountain  regardless  of  the 
piercing  sleet  when  his  course  was  suddenly  checked  by  com- 
ing with  a  violent  shock  against  another  human  being  who, 
running  as  hastily  through  the  storm,  had  driven  impetuously 
against  Wallace,  but  being  the  weaker  of  the  two,  was  struck 
to  the  ground.  The  accident  rallied  the  scattered  senses  of 
the  chief.  He  now  felt  that  he  was  out  in  the  midst  of  a 
furious  winter  tempest,  had  wandered  he  knew  not  whither, 
and  probably  had  materially  injured  some  poor  traveller  by 
his  intemperate  motion. 

He  raised  the  fallen  man  and  asked  whether  he  were  hurt. 
The  traveller  perceiving  by  the  kind  tone  of  the  inquirer  that 
no  harm  had  been  intended,  answered,  "Not  much,  only  a 
little  lamed,  and  all  the  recompense  I  ask  for  this  unlucky 
upset  is  to  give  me  a  helping  hand  to  my  father's  cot,  —  it  is 
just  by.  I  have  been  out  at  a  neighbor's  to  dance  in  the  new 
year  with  a  bonnie  lass,  who,  however,  may  not  thank  you  for 
my  broken  shins." 

As  the  honest  lad  went  on  telling  his  tale  with  a  great  many 
particulars  dear  to  his  simple  wishes,  Wallace  helped  him 
along,  and  carefully  conducting  him  through  the  gathering 
snow,  descended  the  declivity  which  led  to  the  shepherd's 
cottage.  When  within  a  few  yards  of  it,  Wallace  heard  the 
sound  of  singing,  but  it  was  not  the  gay  carolling  of  mirth ; 
the  solemn  chant  of  more  serious  music  mingled  with  the 
roaring  blast. 


LOCH-A  WE.  31 

"I  am  not  too  late  yet,"  cried  the  communicative  lad;  "I 
should  not  have  run  so  fast  had  I  not  wanted  to  have  got  home 
time  enough  to  make  one  in  the  new-year's  hymn." 

They  had  now  arrived  at  the  little  door,  and  the  youth, 
without  the  ceremony  of  knocking,  opened  the  latch ;  as  he  did 
so  he  turned  and  said  to  his  companion,  u  We  have  no  occasion 
for  bolts,  since  the  brave  Lord  Wallace  has  cleared  the  country 
of  our  Southron  robbers."  He  pushed  the  door  as  he  spoke, 
and  displayed  to  the  eyes  of  the  chief  a  venerable  old  man  on 
his  knees  before  a  crucifix ;  around  him  knelt  a  family  of 
young  people,  and  an  aged  dame,  all  joining  in  the  sacred 
thanksgiving.  The  youth,  without  a  word,  dropped  on  his 
knees  near  the  door,  and  making  a  sign  to  his  companion  to 
do  the  same,  Wallace  obeyed  ;  and  as  the  anthems  rose  in  suc- 
cession on  his  ear,  to  which  the  low  breathings  of  the  lightly 
touched  harp  echoed  its  heavenly  strains,  he  felt  the  tumult 
of  his  bosom  gradually  subside,  and  when  the  venerable  sire 
laid  down  the  instrument  and  clasped  his  hands  in  prayer,  the 
natural  pathos  of  his  invocations,  and  the  grateful  devotions 
with  which  the  young  people  gave  their  response,  all  tended 
to  tranquillize  his  mind  into  a  holy  calm. 

At  the  termination  of  the  concluding  prayer,  how  sweet 
were  the  emotions  of  Wallace  when  he  heard  these  words 
uttered  with  augmented  fervor  by  the  aged  petitioner  : 

"  While  we  thus  thank  thee,  0  gracious  God  !  for  thy  mercies 
bestowed  upon  us,  we  humbly  implore  thee  to  hold  in  thine 
Almighty  protection  him  by  whose  arm  thou  hast  wrought  the 
deliverance  of  Scotland.  Let  our  preserver  be  saved  from  his 
sins  by  the  blood  of  Christ  !  Let  our  benefactor  be  blessed  in 
mind,  body,  and  estate,  and  all  prosper  with  him  that  he  takes 
in  hand  !  May  the  good  he  has  dispensed  to  his  country  be 
returned  fourfold  into  his  bosom,  and  may  he  live  to  see  a 
race  of  his  own,  reaping  the  harvest  of  his  virtues,  and  adding 
fresh  honors  to  the  stalwart  name  of  Wallace  !  " 

Every  mouth  echoed  a  fervent  amen  to  this  prayer,  and 
Wallace  himself  inwardly  breathed,  "And  have  I  not,  even 
now,  sinned,  All-gracious  God,  in  the  distraction  of  this  night's 
remembrance  ?  I  mourned  —  I  would  not  be  comforted.  But 
in  thy  mercy  thou  hast  led  me  hither  to  see  the  happy  fruits  ' 
of  my  labors,  and  I  am  resigned  and  thankful." 

The  sacred  rites  over,  two  girls  ran  to  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  and  between  them  brought  forward  a  rough  table 
covered  with  dishes  and  bread,  while  the  mother,  taking  off  a 
large  pot,  emptied  its  smoking  contents  into  the  different 


32  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

vessels.  Meanwhile  the  young  man,  introducing  the  stranger 
to  his  father,  related  the  accident  of  the  meeting,  and  the 
good  old  shepherd  bidding  him  a  hearty  welcome,  desired  him 
to  draw  near  the  fire  and  partake  of  their  new  year's  break- 
fast. 

"  We  need  the  fire,  I  assure  you,"  cried  the  lad,  "  for  we  are 
dripping." 

Wallace  now  advanced  from  the  shadowed  part  of  the  room 
where  he  had  knelt,  and  drawing  towards  the  light,  certainly 
displayed  to  his  host  the  truth  of  his  son's  observation.  He 
had  left  the  castle  without  his  bonnet ;  and  hurrying  on  regard- 
less of  the  whelming  storm,  his  hair  became  saturated  with 
wet,  and  now  streamed  in  water  over  his  shoulders.  The  good 
old  wife,  seeing  the  stranger's  situation  was  worse  than  her 
son's,  snatched  away  the  bottle  out  of  which  he  was  swallow- 
ing a  hearty  cordial,  and  poured  it  over  the  exposed  head  of 
her  guest ;  then  ordering  one  of  her  daughters  to  rub  it  dry, 
she  took  off  his  plaid,  and  wringing  it,  hung  it  to  the  fire. 

During  these  various  operations  —  for  the  whole  family 
seemed  eager  to  show  their  hospitality  —  the  old  man  discov- 
ered, not  so  much  by  the  costliness  of  his  garments,  as  by  the 
noble  mien  and  gentle  manners  of  the  stranger,  that  he  was 
some  chieftain  from  the  castle.  "  Your  honor,"  said  he,  "  must 
pardon  the  uncourtliness  of  our  ways  ;  but  we  give  you  the 
best  we  have,  and  the  worthy  Lord  Loch-awe  cannot  do  more." 

Wallace  gave  smiling  answers  to  all  their  remarks  and  offers 
of  service.  He  partook  of  their  broth,  praised  the  good  wife's 
cakes,  and  sat  discoursing  with  the  family,  with  all  the  gayety 
and  frankness  of  one  of  themselves.  His  unreserved  manners 
opened  every  heart  around  him,  and  with  confidential  freedom 
the  venerable  shepherd  related  his  domestic  history,  dwelling 
particularly  on  the  projected  marriages  of  his  children,  which, 
he  said,  "  should  now  take  place,  since  the  good  Sir  William 
Wallace  had  brought  peace  to  the  land." 

Wallace  gratified  the  worthy  father  by  appearing  to  take  an 
interest  in  all  his  narratives,  and  then  allowing  the  happy 
spirits  of  the  young  people  to  break  in  upon  these  graver  dis- 
cussions he  smiled  with  them,  or  looked  serious  with  the  gar- 
rulous matron,  who  turned  the  discourse  to  tales  of  other 
times.  He  listened  with  complacency  to  every  legend  of 
witch,  fairy,  and  ghost ;  and  his  enlightened  remarks  some- 
times pointed  out  natural  causes  for  the  extraordinary  appear- 
ances she  described,  or  at  better  attested  and  less  equivocal 
accounts  of  supernatural  apparitions  he  acknowledged  that 


LOCH-A  WE.  33 

there  are  "  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  are  dreamt 
of  in  philosophy." 

Morning  dawned  before  the  tranquillized,  nay,  happy  Wal- 
lace —  happy  in  the  cheerful  innocence  of  the  scene  —  discov- 
ered that  the  night  was  past.  As  the  gray  light  gleamed 
through  the  wooden  shutter  he  arose.  "  My  friends,  I  must 
leave  you,"  said  he ;  "  there  are  those  not  far  off  who  may  be 
alarmed  at  my  disappearance,  for  none  knew  when  I  walked 
abroad,  and  unwittingly  I  have  been  charmed  all  these  hours 
to  remain  enjoying  the  happiness  of  your  circle,  forgetful  of 
the  anxiety  I  have  perhaps  occasioned  in  my  own." 

The  old  man  declared  his  intention  of  seeing  him  over  the 
hill.  Wallace  declined  giving  him  that  trouble,  saying,  that 
as  it  was  daylight,  and  the  snow  had  ceased,  he  could  easily 
retrace  his  steps  to  the  castle. 

"  No,  no,"  returned  the  shepherd ;  "  and  besides,"  said  he, 
"  as  I  hear  the  good  lord  regent  is  keeping  the  new  year  with 
our  noble  earl,  who  knows  but  I  may  get  a  glimpse  of  his  noble 
countenance,  and  that  will  be  a  sight  to  tell  o£  till  I  die." 

"  God's  blessing  on  his  sweet  face !  "  cried  the  old  woman ; 
"  but  I  would  give  all  the  yarn  in  my  muckle  chest  to  catch 
one  look  of  his  lucky  eye.  I  warrant  you  witch  nor  fairy 
could  never  harm  me  more." 

"  Ah,  father,"  cried  the  eldest  of  the  girls,  blushing,  "  if  you 
go  near  enough  to  him  —  Do  you  know,  Madgie  Grant  told  me 
if  I  could  but  get  even  the  least  bit  of  Sir  William  Wallace's 
hair,,  and  give  it  to  Donald  Cameron  to  wear  in  a  true-lover's 
knot  on  his  breast,  no  Southron  will  be  able  to  do  him  harm  as 
long  as  he  lives." 

"  And  do  you  believe  it  would  protect  your  lover,  my  pretty 
Jeannie  ?  "  inquired  Wallace,  with  a  sweet  smile. 

"  Surely,"  she  replied ;  "  for  Madge  is  a  wise  woman,  and 
has  the  second-sight." 

"Well,  then,"  returned  he,  "you  shall  be  gratified.  For 
though  I  must  for  once  contradict  the  testimony  of  a  wise 
woman,  and  tell  you  that  nothing  can  render  a  man  absolutely 
safe  but  the  protection  of  Heaven,  yet,  if  a  hair  from  the  head 
of  Sir  William  Wallace  would  please  you,  and  a  glance  from 
his  eye  gratify  your  mother,  both  shall  be  satisfied."  And 
lifting  up  the  old  woman's  shears,  which  lay  on  a  working- 
stool  before  him,  he  cut  off  a  golden  lock  from  the  middle  of 
his  head  and  put  it  into  the  hand  of  Jeannie.  At  this  action, 
which  was  performed  with  such  a  noble  grace  that  not  one  of 
the  family  now  doubted  who  had  been  their  guest,  the  good 
Vol.  n.— s 


34  .        THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

dame  fell  on  her  knees,  and  Jeannie,  with  aery  of  joy,  putting 
the  beautiful  lock  into  her  bosom,  followed  her  example,  and 
in  a  moment  all  were  clinging  around  him.  The  old  man 
grasped  his  hand.  "  Bravest  of  men  !  "  cried  he,  "  the  Lord 
has  indeed  blest  this  house  since  he  has  honored  it  with  the 
presence  of  the  deliverer  of  Scotland.  My  prayers,  and  the 
benedictions  of  all  good  men,  friend  or  foe,  must  ever  follow 
your  footsteps." 

Tears  of  pleasure  started  into  the  eyes  of  Wallace.  He 
raised  the  family  one  by  one  from  the  ground,  and  putting  his 
purse  into  the  hand  of  the  dame,  "  There,  my  kind  hostess," 
said  he,  "  let  that  fill  the  chests  of  your  daughters  on  their 
bridal  day ;  they  must  receive  it  as  a  brother's  portion  to  his 
sisters,  for  it  is  with  fraternal  affection  that  William  Wallace 
regards  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Scotland." 

The  happy  sobs  of  the  old  woman  stopped  the  expressions 
of  her  gratitude,  but  her  son,  fearing  his  freedom  of  the  night 
before  might  have  offended,  stood  abashed  at  a  distance. 
Wallace  stretche^  out  his  hand  to  him.  "  My  good  Archibald," 
cried  he,  "  do  not  hold  back  from  one  who  will  always  be  your 
friend.  I  shall  send  from  the  castle  this  day  sufficient  to  fill 
your  bridal  coffers  also." 

Archibald  now  petitioned  to  be  allowed  to  follow  him  in  his 
army.  "  No,  my  brave  youth,"  replied  the  chief,  "  Lord  Loch- 
awe  will  lead  you  forth  whenever  there  is  occasion,  and  mean- 
time your  duty  is  to  imitate  the  domestic  duties  of  your  worthy 
father.  Make  the  neighboring  valley  smile  with  the  fruits  of 
your  industry,  and  raise  a  family  to  bless  you  as  you  now  bless 
him." 

Wallace  having  wrapped  himself  in  his  plaid,  now  withdrew 
amidst  the  benedictions  of  the  whole  group,  and  swiftly  re- 
crossing  the  mountain  heights  was  soon  on  the  western  brow 
of  Ben  Cruachan.  In  ten  minutes  afterwards  he  entered  the 
hall  of  Kilchurn  castle.  A  few  servants  only  were  astir  ;  the 
rest  of  the  family  were  still  asleep.  About  an  hour  after  their 
friend's  departure  the  earl  and  Graham  had  missed  him,  but 
supposing  that  whithersoever  he  was  gone  he  would  soon 
return,  they  made  no  inquiries,  and  when  the  tempest  began, 
on  Edwin  expressing  his  anxiety  to  know  where  he  was,  one 
of  the  servants  said  he  was  gone  to  his  chamber.  This  answer 
satisfied  every  one,  and  they  continued  to  enjoy  the  festal 
scene  until  the  Countess  of  Loch-awe  made  the  signal  for 
repose. 

Next  morning  when  the  family  met  at  the  breakfast-board, 


STANMORE.  35 

they  were  not  a  little  surprised  to  hear  Wallace  recount  the 
adventure  of  the  night,  and  while  Loch-awe  promised  every 
kindness  to  the  shepherd,  and  a  messenger  was  despatched 
with  a  purse  to  Archibald,  Edwin  learnt  from  the  earl's  ser- 
vant that  his  reason  for  supposing  the  regent  was  gone  to  his 
room  arose  from  the  sight  of  his  bonnet  in  the  outer  hall. 
Wallace  was  glad  that  such  an  evidence  had  pi-evented  his 
friends  being  alarmed,  and  retiring  with  Lord  Loch-awe,1  with 
his  usual  equanimity  of  mind  resumed  the  graver  errand  of 
his  tour. 

The  hospitable  rites  of  the  season  being  over,  in  the  course 
of  a  few  days  the  earl  accompanied  his  illustrious  guest  to 
make  the  circuit  of  Argyleshire.  At  Castle-Urquhardt  they 
parted,  and  Wallace,  proceeding  with  his  two  friends,  per- 
formed his  legislative  visits  from  sea  to  sea.  Having  trav- 
ersed with  perfect  satisfaction  the  whole  of  the  northern  parts 
of  the  kingdom,  he  returned  to  Hunting-tower 2  on  the  very 
morning  that  a  messenger  had  reached  it  from  Murray.  That 
vigilant  chieftain  informed  the  regent  of  King  Edward's 
arrival  from  Flanders,  and  that  he  was  preparing  a  large  army 
to  march  into  Scotland. 

"  We  must  meet  him,"  cried  Wallace,  u  on  his  own  shores, 
and  so  let  the  horrors  attending  the  seat  of  war  fall  on  the 
country  whose  king  would  bring  desolation  to  ours." 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 

STANMORE. 

THE  gathering  word  was  despatched  from  chief  to  chief  to 
call  the  clans  of  the  Highlands  to  meet  their  regent  by  a  cer- 
tain day  in  Clydesdale.  Wallace  himself  set  forward  to  sum- 
mon the  strength  of  the  Lowlands,  but  at  Kinclavin  castle,  on 
the  coast  of  Fife,  he  was  surprised  with  another  embassy  from 
Edward,  a  herald,  accompanied  by  that  Sir  Hugh  le  de  Spen- 
cer who  had  conducted  himself  so  insolently  on  his  first 
embassage. 

1  The  descendants  of  this  chief  have  been  long  renowned  :  the  sons  for  their  loyalty 
and  bravery,  the  daughters  for  beauty  and  the  fairest  feminine  graces. 

2  Hunting-tower,  a  castle  of  the  Lords  Ruthven  in  the  near  neighborhood  of  Perth,  ig 
still  a  line  structure.    It  consists  of  two  square  towers  connected  by  other  buildings; 
much  has  fallen  to  ruin,  but  the  banqueting-hall  remains.     The  situation  is  delightful, 
and  every  acre  about  it  is  heroically  consecrated  ground.     Two  of  its  ancient  owner's 
young  descendants,  who  wandered  there  some  thirty  years  ago,  have   since  laid  down 
their  brave  heads  each  in  a  "  soldier's  sepulchre."  —  (1840  ) 


36  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

On  his  -entering  the  chamber  where  the  regent  sat  with  the 
chiefs  who  had  accompanied  him  from  Perthshire,  the  two 
Englishmen  walked  forward,  but  before  the  herald  could  pay 
the  customary  respects,  Le  de  Spencer  advanced  to  Wallace, 
and  in  the  pride  of  a  little  mind,  elated  at  being  empowered 
to  insult  with  impunity,  he  broke  forth :  "  Sir  William  Wallace, 
the  contumely  with  which  the  ambassadors  of  Prince  Edward 
were  treated  is  so  resented  by  the  King  of  England  that  he 
invests  his  own  majesty  in  my  person  to  tell  you  that  your 
treasons  have  filled  up  their  measure ;  that  now,  in  the  pleni- 
tude of  his  continental  victories,  he  descends  upon  Scotland  to 
annihilate  this  rebellious  nation,  and  "  — 

"  Stop,  Sir  Hugh  le  de  Spencer,"  cried  the  herald,  touching 
him  with  his  sceptre ;  "  whatever  may  be  the  denunciations 
with  which  our  sovereign  has  intrusted  you,  you  must  allow 
me  to  perform  my  duty  before  you  declare  them.  And  thus  I 
utter  the  gracious  message  with  which  his  majesty  has  hon- 
ored my  mouth." 

He  then  addressed  Wallace,  and  in  the  king's  name  accus- 
ing him  of  rebellion  and  of  unfair  and  cruel  devastations 
made  in  Scotland  and  in  England,  promised  him  pardon  for 
all  if  he  would  immediately  disband  his  followers  and  acknowl- 
edge his  offence. 

Wallace  motioned  with  his  hand  for  his  friends  to  keep 
silence,  for  he  perceived  that  two  or  three  of  the  most  violent 
were  ready  to  break  forth  in  fierce  defiance  of  King  Edward  ; 
and  being  obeyed,  he  calmly  replied  .to  the  herald  :  "  When  we 
were  desolate  your  king  came  to  us  as  a  comforter,  and  he  put 
us  in  chains.  While  he  was  abseiit  I  invaded  his  country  as 
an  open  enemy.  I  rifled  your  barns,  but  it  was  to  feed  a 
people  whom  his  robberies  had  left  to  perish.  I  marched 
through  your  lands,  I  made  your  soldiers  fly  before  me  ;  but 
what  spot  in  all  your  shores  have  I  made  black  with  the 
smoke  of  ruin  ?  I  leave  the  people  of  Northumberland  to 
judge  between  me  and  your  monarch.  And  that  he  never  shall 
be  mine,  or  Scotland's,  with  God's  blessing  on  the  right,  our 
deeds  shall  further  prove." 

"Vain  and  ruinous  determination ! "  exclaimed  Le  de 
Spencer.  "  King  Edward  comes  against  you  with  an  army  that 
will  reach  from  sea  to  sea.  Wherever  the  hoofs  of  his  war- 
horse  strike,  there  grass  never  grows  again.  The  sword  and 
the  fire  shall  make  a  desert  of  this  devoted  land ;  and  your 
arrogant  head,  proud  Scot,  shall  bleed  upon  the  scaffold." 

"  He  shall  first  see  my  fires  and  meet  my  sword  in  his  own 


STANMORE.  37 

fields,"  returned  Wallace ;  "and  if  God  continue  my  life,  I  will 
keep  my  Easter  in  England  in  despite  of  King  Edward  and 
of  all  who  bear  armor  in  his  country." 

As  he  spoke  he  rose  from  his  chair,  and  bowing  his  head  to 
the  herald,  the  Scottish  marshals  conducted  the  ambassadors 
from  his  presence.  Le  de  Spencer  twice  attempted  to  speak, 
but  the  marshals  would  not  allow  him.  They  said  that  the 
business  of  the  embassy  was  now  over  ;  and  should  he  presume 
further  to  insult  their  regent,  the  privilege  of  his  official 
character  should  not  protect  him  from  the  wrath  of  the  Scots. 
Intimidated  by  the  frowning  brows  and  nervous  arms  of  all 
around,  he  held  his  peace,  and  the  doors  were  shut  on  him. 

Wallace  foresaw  the  heavy  tempest  to  Scotland  threatened 
by  these  repeated  embassies.  He  perceived  that  Edward,  by 
sending  overtures  which  he  knew  could  not  be  accepted,  by 
making  a  show  of  pacific  intentions,  meant  to  throw  the  blame 
of  the  continuation  of  the  hostilities  upon  the  Scots,  and  so 
overcome  the  reluctance  of  his  more  equitable  nobility  further  to 
persecute  a  people  whom  he  had  made  suffer  so  unjustly. 
The  same  insidious  policy  was  likewise  meant  to  change  the 
aspect  of  the  Scottish  cause  in  the  eyes  of  Philip  of  France, 
who  had  lately  send  congratulations  to  the  regent  on  the  vic- 
tory of  Cambus-Kenneth,  and  by  that  means  deprive  him  of  a 
powerful  ally  and  zealous  negotiator  for  an  honorable  peace. 

To  prevent  this  last  inquiry,  Wallace  despatched  a  quick- 
sailing  vessel  with  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay,  to  inform  King 
Philip  of  the  particulars  of  Edward's  proposals,  and  of  the 
consequent  continued  warfare. 

On  the  twenty-eighth  of  February  Sir  William  Wallace  joined 
Lord  Andrew  Murray  on  Bothwell  moor,  where  he  had  the  hap- 
piness of  seeing  his  brave  friend  again  lord  of  the  domains  he 
had  so  lately  lost  in  the  Scottish  cause.  Wallace  did  not  visit 
the  castle.  At  such  a  crisis  he  forbore  to  unnerve  his  mind  by 
wakening  the  griefs  which  lay  slumbering  at  the  bottom  of  his 
heart.  Halbert  came  from  his  convent  once  more  to  look  upon 
the  face  of  his  beloved  master.  The  meeting  caused  Wallace 
many  agonizing  pangs  ;  but  he  smiled  on  his  faithful  servant. 
He  pressed  the  venerable  form  in  his  manly  arms,  and  promised 
him  news  of  his  life  and  safety.  "May  I  die,"  cried  the  old 
man,  "ere  I  hear  it  is  otherwise-!  But  youth  is  no  warrant  for 
life ;  the  vigor  of  those  arms  cannot  always  assure  themselves 
of  victory  ;  and  should  you  fall,  where  would  be  our  country  ?" 

"  With  a  better  than  I,"  returned  the  chief,  "  in  the  arms 
of  God.  He  will  fight  for  Scotland  when  Wallace  is  laid 


38  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

low."  Halbert  wept ;  but  the  trumpet  sounded  for  the  field. 
He  blessed  his  lord,  and  they  parted  forever. 

A  strong  force  from  the  Highlands  joined  the  troops  from 
Stirling,  and  Wallace  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  before 
him  thirty  thousand  well-appointed  men  eager  for  the  fight. 
With  all  Scotland  pressing  on  his  heart,  his  eye  lingered  a 
moment  on  the  distant  towers  of  Both  well,  but  not  delaying  a 
moment  he  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  his  legions  and  set 
forth  through  a  country  now  budding  with  all  the  charms  of  the 
cultivation  he  had  spread  over  it.  In  the  midst  of  a  fine  glen 
of  renovated  cornfields  he  was  met  by  a  courier  from  Sir 
Roger  Kirkpatrick  with  information  that  the  Northumbrians, 
being  apprised  of  King  Edward's  approach,  were  assembling  in 
immense  bodies,  and  having  crossed  the  Debatable  land  in  the 
night,  had  driven  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell  with  great  loss  into 
Carlaveroch;  and,  though  harassed  by  Kirkpatrick  himself, 
were  ravaging  the  country  as  far  as  Dumfries.  The  letter  of 
the  brave  knight  added,  "  These  Southron  thieves  blow  the 
name  of  Edward  before  them,  and  with  its  sound  have  spell- 
bound the  courage  of  every  soul  I  meet.  Come,  then,  valiant 
Wallace,  and  conjure,  it  down  again ;  else  I  shall  not  be  sur- 
prised if  the  men  of  Annandale  bind  me  hand  and  foot  and 
deliver  me  up  to  Algernon  Percy  (the  leader  of  this  inroad), 
to  purchase  mercy  to  their  cowardice." 

Wallace  made  no  reply  to  this  message,  but  proclaiming  to 
his  men  that  the  enemy  were  in  Dumfriesshire,  every  foot  was 
put  to  the  speed,  and  in  a  short  time  they  arrived  on  the 
ridgy  summits  of  the  eastern  mountains  of  Clydesdale.  His 
troops  halted  for  rest  near  the  village  of  Biggar,  and  it  being 
night,  he  ascended  to  the  top  of  the  highest  craig  and  lit  a 
fire,  whose  far-streaming  light  he  hoped  would  send  the  news 
of  his  approach  to  Annandale.  The  air  being  calm  and  clear, 
the  signal  rose  in  such  a  long  pyramid  of  flame  that  distant 
shouts  of  rejoicing  were  heard  breaking  the  deep  silence  of 
the  hour.  A  moment  after  a  hundred  answering  beacons 
burnt  along  the  horizon.  Torthorald  saw  the  propitious 
blaze  ;  he  showed  it  to  his  terrified  followers.  "  Behold  that 
hill  of  fire!"  cried  he,  "and  cease  to  despair."  —  "Wallace 
comes  !  "  was  their  response ;  "  and  we  will  do  or  die  !  " 

Day  broke  upon  Wallace  as  he  crossed  the  heights  of  Drum- 

1  The  mountain  from  which  this  beacon  sent  its  rays  has  from  that  hour  been  called 
Tinto  or  Tintoc  (which  signifies  The  Hill  of  Fire),  and  is  yet  regarded  by  the  country 
people  with  a  devotion  almost  idolatrous.  Its  height  is  about  2,2t3(J  feet  from  the  sea. 
Not  far  from  Tinto,  at  Biggar,  the  spot  is  shown  which  was  Wallace's  camp.  These 
last  animating  words  are  a  rallying  cry  in  the  tine  old  song  of  "  Y"e  Scots  wha'  ha'  wi* 
Wallace  bled."  —  (1809.) 


STAN  MORE.  39 

lanrig,  and  pouring  his  thousands  over  the  almost  deserted 
valleys  of  Annandale,  like  a  torrent  he  swept  the  invaders 
back  upon  their  steps.  He  took  young  Percy  prisoner,  and 
leaving  him  shut  up  in  Lochmaben,  drove  his  flying  vassals 
far  beyond  the  borders. 

Annandale  again  free,  he  went  into  its  various  quarters,  and 
summoning  the  people  (who  now  crept  from  their  caves  and 
woods  to  shelter  under  his  shield)  he  reproved  them  for 
their  cowardice,  and  showed  them  that  unless  every  man  pos- 
sess a  courage  equal  to  his  general  he  must  expect  to  fall 
under  the  yoke  of  the  enemy.  "  Faith  in  a  leader  is  good," 
said  he,  "  but  not  such  a  faith  as  leaves  him  to  act  without 
yourselves  rendering  that  assistance  to  your  own  preservation 
which-  Heaven  itself  commands.  When  absent  from  you  in 
person,  I  left  my  spirit  .  with  you,  in  the  brave  knights  of 
Carlaveroch  and  Torthorald,  and  yet  you  fled.  Had  I  been 
here  and  you  done  the  same,  the  like  must  have  been  the  con- 
sequence. What  think  you  is  in  my  arm  that  I  should  alone 
stem  your  enemies?  The  expectation  is  extravagant  and 
false.  I  am  but  the  head  of  the  battle,  you  are  the  arms  ;  if 
you  shrink,  I  fall,  and  the  cause  is  ruined.  You  follow  my 
call  to  the  field,  you  fight  valiantly,  and  I  win  the  day.  Ke- 
spect,  then,  yourselves,  and  believe  that  you  are  the  sinews, 
the  nerves,  the  strength  of  Sir  William  Wallace." 

Some  looked  manfully  up  at  this  exhortation,  but  most  hung 
their  heads  in  remembered  shame,  while  he  continued  :  "  Dis- 
honor not  your  fathers  and  your  trust  in  God  by  relying  on 
any  one  human  arm,  or  doubting  that  from  heaven.  Be  confi- 
dent that  while  the  standard  of  true  liberty  is  before  you,  you 
fight  under  God's  banner.  See  how  I,  in  that  faith,  drove 
these  conquering  Northumbrians  before  me  like  frighted 
roes.  You  might  and  must  do  the  same,  or  the  sword  of 
Wallace  is  drawn  in  vain.  Partake  my  spirit,  brethren  of 
Annandale,  fight  as  stoutly  over  my  grave  as  by  my  side, 
or  before  the  year  expires  you  will  again  be  the  slaves  of 
Edward." 

Such  language,  while  it  covered  the  fugitives  with  confusion 
of  face,  awoke  emulation  in  all  to  efface  with  honorable  deeds 
the  memory  of  their  disgrace.  With  augmented  forces  he 
therefore  marched  into  Cumberland,  and  having  drawn  up  his 
array  between  a  river  and  a  high  ground  which  he  covered  with 
archers,  he  stood  prepared  to  meet  the  approach  of  King 
Edward. 

But  Edward  did  not  appear  till  late  the  next  day,  and  then 


40  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  Scots  descried  his  legions  advancing  from  the  horizon  to 
pitch  their  vanguard  on  the  plain  of  Stanmore.  Wallace  knew 
that  for  the  first  time  he  was  now  going  to  pitch  his  soldier- 
ship against  that  of  the  greatest  general  in  Christendom.  But 
he  did  not  shrink  from  measuring  him  arm  to  arm,  and  mind 
to  mind,  for  the  assurance  of  his  cause  was  in  both. 

His  present  aim  was  to  draw  the  English  towards  the  Scot- 
tish lines,  where  at  certain  distances  he  had  dug  deep  pits, 
and  having  covered  them  lightly  with  twigs  and  loose  grass, 
left  them  as  traps  for  the  Southron  cavalry,  for  in  cavalry,  he 
was  told  by  his  spies,  would  consist  the  chief  strength  of 
Edward's  army.  The  waste  in  which  Wallace  had  laid  the 
adjoining  counties  rendered  the  provisioning  of  so  large  a  host 
difficult,  and  besides,  as  it  was  composed  of  a  mixed  multitude 
from  every  land  on  which  ,the  King  of  England  had  set  his 
invading  foot,  harmony  could  not  be  expected  to  continue 
amongst  its  leaders.  Delay  was  therefore  an  advantage  to  the 
Scottish  regent,  and  observing  that  his  enemy  held  back,  as  if 
he  wished  to  draw  him  from  his  position,  he  determined  not  to 
stir,  although  he  might  seem  to  be  struck  with  awe  of  so  great 
an  adversary. 

To  this  end  he  offered  him  peace,  hoping  either  to  obtain 
what  he  asked  (which  he  did  not  deem  probable),  or  by  filling 
Edward  with  an  idea  of  his  fear,  urge  him  to  precipitate  him- 
self forward  to  avoid  the  dangers  of  a  prolonged  sojourn  in  so 
barren  a  country,  and  to  take  Wallace,  as  he  might  think,  in 
his  panic.  Instructing  his  heralds  what  to  say,  he  sent  them 
on  to  Eoycross,1  near  which  the  tent  of  the  King  of  England 
was  pitched.  Supposing  that  his  enemy  was  now  at  his  feet, 
and  ready  to  beg  the  terms  he  had  before  rejected,  Edward 
admitted  the  ambassadors,  and  bade  them  deliver  their  mes- 
sage. Without  further  parley  the  herald  spoke. 

"  Thus  saith  Sir  William  Wallace :  '  Were  it  not  that  the 
kings  and  nobles  of  the  realm  of  Scotland  have  ever  asked 
redress  of  injuries  before  they  sought  revenge,  you,  King  of 
England,  and  invader  of  our  country,  should  not  now  behold 
orators  in  your  camp  persuading  concord,  but  an  army  in  battle 
array  advancing  to  the  onset.  Our  lord  regent  being  of  the 
ancient  opinion  of  his  renowned  predecessors,  that  the  greatest 
victories  are  never  of  such  advantage  to  a  conqueror  as  an  hon- 
orable and  bloodless  peace,  sends  to  offer  this  peace  to  you  at 
the  price  of  restitution.  The  lives  you  have  rifled  from  us 

1  Roycross  was  erected  on  the  heath  of  Stanmore  (a  stony  tract  between  Richmond- 
shire  and  Cumberland),  by  William  the  First  of  England,  and  Malcolm  III.  of  Scotland, 
as  the  boundary  mark  of  their  separate  dominion?  —  (1809.) 


STANMORE.  41 

you  cannot  restore,  but  the  noble  Lord  Douglas,  whom  you 
now  unjustly  detain  a  prisoner,  we  demand,  and  that  you 
retract  those  claims  on  our  monarchy  which  never  had  exist- 
ence till  ambition  begot  them  on  the  basest  treachery.  Grant 
these  just  requisitions,  and  we  lay  down  our  arms;  but  continue 
to  deny  them,  and  our  nation  is  ready  to  rise  to  a  man,  and 
with  heart  and  hand  avenge  the  injuries  we  have  sustained. 
You  have  wasted  our  lands,  burnt  our  towns,  and  imprisoned 
our  nobility.  Without  consideration  of  age  or  condition, 
women,  children,  and  feeble  old  men  have,  unresisting,  fallen 
by  your  sword.  And  why  was  all  this  ?  Did  our  confidence 
in  your  honor  offend  you,  that  you  put  our  chieftains  in  du- 
rance, and  deprived  our  yeomanry  of  their  lives  ?  Did  the 
benedictions  with  which  our  prelates  hailed  you  as  the  arbi- 
trator between  our  princes  raise  your  ire,  that  you  burnt  their 
churches,  and  slew  them  on  the  altars  ?  These,  0  King  !  were 
-thy  deeds,  and  for  these  William  Wallace  is  in  arms ;  but 
yield  us  the  peace  we  ask,  withdraw  from  our  quarters,  relin- 
quish your  unjust  pretensions,  and  we  shall  once  more  consider 
Edward  of  England  as  the  kinsman  of  Alexander  the  Third, 
and  his  subjects  the  friends  and  allies  of  our  realm/  " 

Not  in  the  least  moved  by  this  address,  Edward  contempt- 
uously answered,  "Intoxicated  by  a  transitory  success,  your 
leader  is  vain  enough  to  suppose  that  he  caji  discomfit  the 
King  of  England,  as  he  has  done  his  unworthy  officers,  by 
fierce  and  insolent  words ;  but  we  are  not  so  weak  as  to  be 
overthrown  by  a  breath,  nor  so  base  as  to  bear  argument  from 
a  rebel.  I  come  to  claim  my  own ;  to  assert  my  supremacy 
over  Scotland ;  and  it  shall  acknowledge  its  liege  lord,  or  be 
left  a  desert,  without  a  living  creature  to  say,  'This  was  a 
kingdom.'  Depart;  this  is  my  answer  to  you;  your  leader 
shall  receive  his  at  the  point  of  my  lance." 

Wallace,  who  did  not  expect  a  more  favorable  reply,  ere  his 
ambassadors  returned  had  marshalled  his  lines  for  the  onset. 
Lord  Bothwell,  with  Murray,  his  valiant  son,  took  the  lead  on 
the  left  wing ;  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell  and  Kirkpatrick  com- 
manded on  the  right.  Graham,  in  whose  quick  observation 
and  promptitude  to  bring  it  to  effect  Wallace  placed  the  first 
confidence,  held  the  reserve  behind  the  woods  ;  and  the  regent 
himself,  with  Edwin  and  his  brave  standard-bearer,  occupied 
the  centre.  Having  heard  the  report  of  his  messengers,  he 
repeated  to  his  troops  the  answer  they  had  brought,  and  while 
he  stood  at  the  head  of  the  lines  he  exhorted  them  to  remem- 
ber that  on  that  day  the  eyes  of  all  Scotland  would  be  upon 


42  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

them.  They  were  the  first  of  their  country  who  had  gone 
forth  to  meet  the  tyrant  in  a  pitched  battle,  and  in  proportion 
to  the  danger  they  confronted  would  be  their  meed  of  glory. 
"  But  it  is  not  for  renown  merely  that  you  are  called  upon  to 
fight  this  day/'  said  he ;  "  your  rights,  your  homes,  are  at  stake. 
You  have  no  hope  of  security  for  your  lives  but  in  an  un- 
swerving determination  to  keep  the  field,  and  let  the  world 
see  how  much  more  might  lies  in  the  arms  of  a  few,  contending 
for  their  country  and  hereditary  liberties,  than  in  hosts  which 
seek  for  blood  and  spoil.  Slavery  and  freedom  lie  before  you. 
Shrink  but  one  backward  step  and  yourselves  are  in  bondage, 
your  wives  become  the  prey  of  violence.  Be  firm ;  trust  Him 
who  blesses  the  righteous  cause,  and  victory  will  crown  your 
arms." 

Though ,  affecting  to  despise  his  young  opponent,  Edward 
was  too  good  a  general,  really,  to  contemn  an  enemy  who  had 
so  often  proved  himself  worthy  of  respect ;  and  therefore,  by 
declaring  his  determination  to  put  all  the  Scottish  chieftains 
to  death  and  to  transfer  their  estates  to  his  conquering  offi- 
cers, he  stimulated  their  avarice  as  well  as  love  of  fame,  and 
with  every  passion  in  arms  they  rushed  to  the  combat. 

Wallace  stood  unmoved.  Not  a  bow  was  drawn  till  the  im- 
petuous squadrons,  in  full  charge  towards  the  flanks  of  the 
Scots,  fell  into  Jhe  pits ;  then  it  was  that  the  Highland  archers 
on  the  hill  launched  their  arrows ;  the  plunging  horses  were 
instantly  overwhelmed  by  others,  who  could  not  be  checked  in 
their  career.  New  showers  of  darts  rained  upon  them,  and 
sticking  into  their  flesh  made  them  rear  and  roll  upon  their 
riders,  while  others,  who  were  wounded,  but  had  escaped  the 
pits,  flew  back  in  rage  of  pain  upon  the  advancing  infantry. 
A  confusion  ensued  so  perilous  that  the  king  thought  it 
necessary  to  precipitate  himself  forward,  and  in  person  attack 
the  main  body  of  his  adversary,  which  yet  stood  inactive. 
Giving  the  spur  to  his  charger,  he  ordered  his  troops  to  press 
on  over  the  struggling  heaps  before  them ;  and  being  obeyed, 
with  much  difficulty  and  great  loss  he  passed  the  first  range 
of  pits,  but  a  second  and  a  wider  awaited  him ;  and  there 
seeing  his  men  sink  into  them  by  squadrons,  he  beheld  the 
whole  army  of  Wallace  close  in  upon  them.  Terrific  was  now 
the  havoc.  The  very  numbers  of  the  Southrons,  and  the  mixed 
discipline  of  their  army,  proved  its  bane.  In  the  tumult  they 
hardly  understood  the  orders  which  were  given;  and  some 
mistaking  them,  acted  so  contrary  to  the  intended  movements, 
that  Edward,  galloping  from  one  end  of  the  field  to  the  other, 


STIRLING.  43 

appeared  like  a  frantic  man,  regardless  of  every  personal 
danger,  so  that  he  could  but  fix  others  to  front  the  same 
tempest  of  death  with  himself.  His  officers  trembled  at  every 
step  he  took,  for  fear  that  some  of  the  secret  pits  should 
ingulf  him.  However,  the  unshrinking  courage  of  their 
monarch  rallied  a  part  of  the  distracted  army,  which,  with  all 
the  force  of  desperation,  he  drove  against  the  centre  of  the 
Scots.  But  at  this  juncture  the  reserve  under  Graham,  having 
turned  the  royal  position,  charged  him  in  the  rear;  and  the 
archers  redoubling  their  discharge  of  artillery,  the  Flanderkins, 
who  were  in  the  van  of  Edward,  suddenly  giving  way  with 
cries  of  terror,  the  amazed  king  found  himself  obliged  to 
retreat  or  run  the  risk  of  being  taken.  He  gave  a  signal,  the 
first  of  the  kind  he  had  ever  sounded  in  his  life,  and  drawing 
his  English  troops  around  him  after  much  hard  fighting  fell 
back  in  tolerable  order  beyond  the  confines  of  his  camp. 

The  Scots  were  eager  to  pursue  him,  but  Wallace  checked 
the  motion.  "  Let  us  not  hunt  the  lion  till  he  stand  at  bay," 
cried  he.  "  He  will  retire  far  enough  from  the  Scottish  borders 
without  our  leaving  this  vantage-ground  to  drive  him." 

What  Wallace  said  came  to  pass.  Soon  no  vestige  of  a 
Southron  soldier  but  the  dead  which  strewed  the  road  was  to 
be  seen  from  side  to  side  of  the  wide  horizon.  The  royal  camp 
was  immediately  seized  by  the  triumphant  Scots,  and  the  tent 
of  King  Edward,  with  its  costly  furniture,  was  sent  to  Stirling 
as  a  trophy  of  the  victory. 


CHAPTER   L. 

STIRLING. 

MANY  chieftains  from  the  north  had  drawn  to  Stirling  to  be 
near  intelligence  from  the  borders.  They  were  aware  that  this 
meeting  between  Wallace  and  Edward  must  be  the  crisis  of 
their  fate.  The  few  who  remained  in  the  citadel  of  those  who 
had  borne  the  brunt  of  the  opening  of  this  glorious  revolution 
for  their  country,  were  full  of  sanguine  expectations.  They 
had  seen  the  prowess  of  their  leader,  they  had  shared  the  glory 
of  his  destiny,  and  they  feared  not  that  Edward  would  deprive 
him  of  one  ray.  But  they  who  at  the  utmost  wilds  of  the 
Highlands  had  only  heard  his  fame,  though  they  had  after- 
wards seen  him  among  themselves  transforming  the  mountain 


44  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

savage  into  a  civilized  man  and  disciplined  soldier ;  though 
they  had  felt  the  effects  of  his  military  successes,  yet  they 
doubted  how  his  fortunes  might  stand  the  shock  of  Edward's 
happy  star.  The  lords  whom  he  had  released  from  the 
Southron  prisons  were  all  of  the  same  apprehensive  opinion, 
for  they  knew  what  numbers  Edward  could  bring  against  the 
Scottish  power,  and  how  hitherto  unrivalled  was  his  skill  in 
the  field.  "  Now,"  thought  Lord  Badenoch,  "  will  this  brave 
Scot  find  the  difference  between  fighting  with  the  officers  of  a 
king  and  a  king  himself,  contending  for  what  he  determines 
shall  be  a  part  of  his  dominions."  Full  of  this  idea,  and 
resolving  never  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  Edward  again  (for 
the  conduct  of  Wallace  had  made  the  earl  ashamed  of  his  long 
submission  to  the  usurpation  of  rights  to  which  he  had  a 
claim),  he  kept  a  vessel  in  readiness  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Forth  to  take  him,  as  soon  as  the  news  of  the  regent's  defeat 
should  arrive,  far  from  the  sad  consequences  to  a  quiet  asylum 
in  France. 

The  meditations  of  Athol,  Buchan,  and  March  were  of  a  dif- 
ferent tendency.  It  was  their  design  on  the  earliest  intimation 
of  such  intelligence  to  set  forth  and  be  the  first  to  throw 
themselves  at  the  feet  of  Edward,  and  acknowledge  him  their 
sovereign.  Thus,  with  various  projects  in  their  heads,  which 
none  but  the  three  last  breathed  to  each  other,  were  several 
hundred  expecting  chiefs  assembled  round  the  Earl  of  Mar, 
when  Edwin  Kuthven,  glowing  with  all  the  effulgence  of  his 
general's  glory  and  his  own,  rushed  into  the  hall,  and  throw- 
ing the  royal  standard  of  England  on  the  ground,  exclaimed, 
"  There  lies  the  supremacy  of  King  Edward  !  " 

Every  man  started  on  his  feet.  "  You  do  not  mean,"  cried 
Athol,  "  that  King  Edward  has  been  beaten  ?  "  —  "  He  has  been 
beaten,  and  driven  off  the  field,"  returned  Edwin.  "These 
despatches,"  added  he,  laying  them  on  the  table  before  his 
uncle,  "  will  relate  every  particular.  A  hard  battle  our  regent 
fought,  for  our  enemies  were  numberless  ;  but  a  thousand  good 
angels  were  his  allies  ;  and  Edward  himself  fled.  I  saw  the 
king  after  he  had  thrice  rallied  his  troops,  and  brought  them 
to  the  charge,  at  last  turn  and  fly.  It  was  at  that  moment  I 
wounded  his  standard-bearer  and  seized  this  dragon.''" 

"Thou  art  worthy  of  thy  general,  brave  Ruthven,"  cried 
Badenoch  to  Edwin.  "  James,"  added  he,  addressing  his 
eldest  son,  who  had  just  arrived  from  France,  "  what  is  left  to 
us  to  show  ourselves  also  of  Scottish  blood  ?  Heaven  has 
given  him  all." 


STIRLING.  45 

Lord  Mar,  who  had  stood  in  speechless  gratitude,  opened  the 
despatches,  and  finding  a  circumstantial  narrative  of  the  battle, 
with  accounts  of  the  previous  embassies,  he  read  them  aloud. 
Their  contents  excited  a  variety  of  emotions.  When  the  nobles 
heard  Edward  had  offered  Wallace  the  crown,  when  they  found 
that  by  vanquishing  that  powerful  monarch  he  had  subdued 
even  the  soul  of  the  man  who  had  hitherto  held  them  all  in 
awe ;  though  in  the  same  breath  they  read  that  their  regent 
had  refused  royalty,  and  was  now,  as  a  servant  of  the  people, 
preparing  to  strengthen  their  borders  ;  —  yet  the  most  extrav- 
agant suspicions  awoke  in  almost  every  breast.  •  The  eagle 
flight  of  his  glory  seemed  to  have  raised  him  so  far  above  their 
heads,  so  beyond  their  power  to  restrain  or  to  elevate  him, 
that  an  envy,  dark  as  Erebus,  —  a  jealousy  which  at  once 
annihilated  every  grateful  sentiment,  every  personal  regard,  — 
passed  like  electricity  from  heart  to  heart.  The  eye,  turning 
from  one  to  the  other,  explained  what  no  lip  dare  utter. 
A  dead  silence  reigned,  while  the  demon  of  hatred  was  taking 
possession  of  almost  every  breast ;  and  none  but  the  Lords  Mar, 
Badenoch,  and  Loch-awe  escaped  the  black  contagion. 

When  the  meeting  broke  up,  Lord  Mar  placed  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  officers  of  the  garrison,  and  with  a  herald 
holding  the  banner  of  Edward  beneath  the  colors  of  Scotland, 
rode  forth  to  proclaim  to  the  country  the  decisive  victory  of 
its  regent.  Badenoch  and  Loch-awe  left  the  hall  to  hasten 
with  the  tidings  to  Snawdoun.  The  rest  of  the  chiefs  dis- 
persed, but  as  if  actuated  by  one  spirit,  they  were  seen  wan- 
dering about  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  where  they  soon  drew 
together  in  groups  and  whispered  among  themselves  these 
and  similar  sentiments :  "  He  refused  the  crown  offered  to  him 
in  the  field  by  the  people ;  he  rejected  it  from  Edward  because 
he  would  reign  uncontrolled;  he  will  now  seize  it  as  a  con- 
queror, and  -we  shall  have  an  upstart's  foot  upon  our  necks.  If 
we  are  to  be  slaves,  let  us  have  a  tyrant  of  our  own  choosing." 

As  the  trumpets  before  Lord  Mar  blew  the  loud  acclaim  of 
triumph,  Athol  said  to  Buchan,  "  Cousin,  that  is  but  the  fore- 
runner of  what  we  shall  hear  to  announce  the  usurpation  of 
this  Wallace,  and  shall  we  sit  tamely  by  and  have  our  birth- 
right wrested  from  us  by  a  man  of  yesterday  ?  No ;  if  the 
race  of  Alexander  be  not  to  occupy  the  throne,  let  us  not  hesi- 
tate between  the  monarch  of  a  mighty  nation  and  a  low-born 
tyrant ;  between  him  who  will  at  least  gild  our  chains  with 
chivalric  honors,  and  an  upstart  whose  domination  must  be  as 
stern  as  debasing  !  " 


46  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Murmurings  such  as  these  passing  from  chief  to  chief,  de- 
scended to  the  minor  chieftains,  who  held  lands  in  fee  of  those 
more  sovereign  lords.  Petty  interests  extinguished  gratitude 
for  general  benefits,  and  by  secret  meetings,  at  the  heads  of 
which  were  Athol,  Buchan,  and  March,  a  conspiracy  was 
formed  to  overset  the  power  of  Wallace.  They  were  to  invite 
Edward  once  more  to  take  possession  of  the  kingdom,  and 
meanwhile,  to  accomplish  this  with  certainty,  each  chief  was 
to  assume  a  preeminent  zeal  for  the  regent.  March  was  to 
persuade  Wallace  to  send  him  to  Dunbar  as  governor  of  the 
Lothian s,  to  hold  the  refractory  Soulis  in  check,  and  to  divide 
the  public  cares  of  Lord  Dundaff,  who  indeed  found  Berwick 
a  sufficient  charge  for  his  age  and  comparative  inactivity. 
"Then,"  cried  the  false  Cospatrick,1  "  when  I  am  fixed  at 
Dunbar,  Edward  may  come  round  from  Newcastle  to  that  port, 
and  by  your  management  he  must  march  unmolested  to  Stir- 
ling and  seize  the  usurper  on  his  throne." 

Such  suggestions  met  with  full  approval  from  these  dark 
incendiaries,  and  as  their  meetings  were  usually  held  at  night, 
they  walked  forth  in  the  day  with  cheerful  countenances  and 
joined  the  general  rejoicing. 

They  feared  to  hint  even  a  word  of  their  intentions  to  Lord 
Badenoch,  for  on  Buchan  having  expressed  some  discontent  to 
him  at  the  homage  that  was  paid  to  a  man  so  much  their  infe- 
rior, his  answer  was,  "  Had  we  acted  worthy  of  our  birth,  Sir 
William  Wallace  never  could  have  had  the  opportunity  to  rise 
upon  our  disgrace  ;  but  as  it  is,  we  must  submit,  or  bow  to 
treachery  instead  of  virtue."  This  reply  determined  them  to 
keep  their  proceedings  secret  from  him,  and  also  from  Lady 
Mar,  for  both  Lord  Buchan  and  Lord  Athol  had,  at  different 
times,  listened  to  the  fond  dreams  of  her  love  and  ambition. 
They  had  flattered  her  with  entering  into  her  designs.  Athol 
gloomily  affected  acquiescence,  that  he  might  render  himself 
master  of  all  that  was  in  her  mind,  and  perhaps  in  that  of  her 
lover,  for  he  did  not  doubt  that  Wallace  was  as  guilty  as  her 
wishes  would  have  made  him;  and  Buchan,  ever  ready  to  yield 
to  the  persuasions  of  woman,  was  not  likely  to  refuse  when 
his  fair  cousin  promised  to  reward  him  with  all  the  pleasures 
of  the  gayest  court  in  Europe,  for,  indeed,  both  lords  had  con- 
ceived, from  the  evident  failing  state  of  her  veteran  husband, 
in  consequence  of  the  unhealing  condition  of  one  of  his 
wounds,  that  it  might  not  be  long  before  this  visionary  game 
would  be  thrown  into  her  hands. 

1  The  name  by  which  Patrick  Dunbar,  Earl  of  March,  was  familiarly  called. 


STIRLING.  47 

Thus  were  they  situated  when  the  news  of  Wallace's  de- 
cisive victory,  distancing  all  their  means  to  raise  him  who  was 
now  at  the  pinnacle  of  power,  determined  the  dubious  to  be- 
come at  once  his  mortal  enemies.  Lord  Badenoch  had  listened 
with  a  different  temper  to  the  first  breathings  of  Lady  Mar  on 
her  favorite  subject.  He  told  her  if  the  nation  chose  to  make 
their  benefactor  king,  he  should  not  oppose  it,  because  he 
thought  that  none  of  the  blood-royal  deserved  to  wear  the 
crown,  which  they  had  all  consented  to  hold  in  fee  of  Edward ; 
yet  he  would  never  promote  by  intrigue  an  election  which 
must  rob  his  own  posterity  of  their  inheritance.  But  when 
she  gave  hints  of  her  becoming  one  day  the  wife  of  Wallace, 
he  turned  on  her  with  a  frown.  "  Cousin,"  said  he,  "  beware 
how  you  allow  so  guilty  an  idea  to  take  possession  of  your 
heart.  It  is  the  parent  of  dishonor  and  death ;  and  did  I  think 
that  Sir  William  Wallace  were  capable  of  sharing  your  wishes, 
I  would  be  the  first  to  abandon  his  standard.  But  I  believe 
him  too  virtuous  to  look  on  a  married  woman  with  the  eyes  of 
passion,  and  that  he  holds  the  houses  of  Mar  and  Cummin  in 
too  high  a  respect  to  breathe  an  illicit  sigh  in  the  ear  of  my 
kinswoman." 

Despairing  of  making  the  impression  she  desired  on  the 
mind  of  this  severe  relative,  Lady  Mar  spoke  to  him  no  more 
on  the  subject;  and  Lord  Badenoch,  ignorant  that  she  had 
imparted  her  criminal  project  to  his  brother  and  cousin,  be- 
lieved that  his  reproof  had  performed  her  cure.  Thus  flatter- 
ing himself,  he  made  no  hesitation  to  be  the  first  who  should 
go  to  Snawdoun  to  communicate  to  her  the  brilliant  despatches 
of  the  regent,  and  to  declare  the  freedom  of  Scotland  to  be  now 
almost  secured.  He  and  Lord  Loch-awe  set  forth,  but  they 
had  been  some  time  preceded  by  Edwin. 

The  moment  the  countess  heard  the  name  of  her  nephew 
announced  she  made  a  sign  for  her  ladies  to  withdraw,  and 
starting  forward  at  his  entrance,  "Speak!"  cried  she;  "tell 
me,  Edwin,  is  the  regent  still  a  conqueror?"  —  "Where  are 
my  mother  and  Helen,"  replied  he,  "  to  share  my  tidings  ?  " 
—  "  Then  they  are  good  !  "  exclaimed  Lady  Mar,  with  one  of 
her  bewitching  smiles.  "  Ah !  you  sly  one,  like  your  chief  you 
know  your  power."  —  "And  like  him  I  exercise  it,"  replied 
he,  gayly ;  "  therefore,  to  keep  your  ladyship  no  longer  in 
suspense,  here  is  a  letter  from  the  regent  himself."  He  pre- 
sented it  as  he  spoke,  and  she,  catching  it  from  him,  turned 
round,  and  pressing  it  rapturously  to  her  lips  (it  being  the  first 
she  had  ever  received  from  him),  eagerly  ran  over  its  brief 


48  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

contents.  While  reperusing  it,  for  she  could  not  tear  her  eyes 
from  the  beloved  characters,  Lady  Ruthven  and  Helen  entered 
the  room.  '  The  former  hastened  forward ;  the  latter  trembled 
as  she  moved,  for  she  did  not  yet  know  the  information  which 
her  cousin  brought.  But  the  first  glance  of  his  face  told  her 
all  was  safe,  and  as  he  broke  from  his  mother's  embrace  to 
clasp  Helen  in  his  arms,  she  fell  upon  his  neck,  and,  with  a 
shower  of  tears,  whispered,  "  Wallace  lives  ?  Is  well?  "  —  "  As 
you  would  wish  him,"  re  whispered  he;  "and  with  Edward  at 
his  feet."  —  "  Thank  God,  thank  God  ! "  While  she  spoke, 
Lady  Ruthven  exclaimed,  "  But  how  is  our  regent  ?  Speak, 
Edwin !  How  is  the  delight  of  all  hearts  ?  "  —  "  Still  the  lord 
of  Scotland,"  answered  he;  "the  invincible  dictator  of  her 
enemies  !  The  puissant  Edward  has  acknowledged  the  power 
of  Sir  William  Wallace,  and  after  being  beaten  on  the  plain 
of  Stanmore,  is  now  making  the  best  of  his  way  towards  his 
own  capital." 

Lady  Mar  again  and  again  pressed  the  cold  letter  of  Wal- 
lace to  her  burning  bosom.  "  The  regent  does  not  mention 
these  matters  in  his  letter  to  me,"  said  she,  casting  an  exult- 
ing glance  over  the  glowing  face  of  Helen.  But  Helen  did 
not  notice  it,  she  was  listening  to  Edwin,  who,  with  joyous 
animation,  related  every  particular  that  had  befallen  Wallace, 
from  the  time  of  his  rejoining  him  to  that  very  moment.  The 
countess  heard  all  with  complacency  till  he  mentioned  the 
issue  of  the  conference  with  Edward's  first  ambassadors. 
"  Fool !  "  exclaimed  she  to  herself,  "to  throw  away  the  golden 
opportunity  that  may  never  return."  Not  observing  her  dis- 
turbance, Edwin  went  on  with  his  narrative,  every  word  of 
which  spread  the  eloquent  countenance  of  Helen  with  admira- 
tion and  joy. 

Since  her  heroic  heart  had  wrung  from  it  all  selfish  wishes 
with  regard  to  Wallace,  she  allowed  herself  to  rejoice  openly 
in  his  success,  and  to  look  up  unabashed  when  the  resplendent 
glories  of  his  character  were  brought  before  her.  None  but 
Edwin  made  her  feel  her  exclusion  from  her  soul's  only  home 
by  dwelling  on  his  gentle  virtues,  by  portraying  the  exquisite 
tenderness  of  his  nature,  which  seemed  to  enfold  the  objects  of 
his  love  in  his  heart  of  hearts.  When  Helen  thought  on  these 
discourses,  she  would  sigh ;  but  it  was  a  sigh  of  resignation, 
and  she  loved  to  meditate  on  the  words  which  Edwin  had 
carelessly  spoken  —  that  "she  made  herself  a  nun  for  Wal- 
lace."—  "  And  so  I  will,"  said  she  to  herself;  "  and  that  resolu- 
tion stills  every  wild  emotion.  All  is  innocence  in  heaven, 


STIRLING.  49 

Wallace.      You  will  there  read  my  soul,  and  love  me  as  a 
sister." 

In  such  a  frame  of  mind  did  she  listen  to  the  relation  of 
Edwin,  did  her  animated  eye  welcome  the  entrance  of  Baden- 
och  and  Loch-awe,  and  their  enthusiastic  encomiums  on  the 
lord  of  her  heart.  Then  sounded  the  trumpet,  and  the  herald's 
voice  in  the  streets  proclaimed  the  victory  of  the  regent. 
Lady  Mar  rushed  to  the  window,  as  if  there  she  would  see  him- 
self. Lady  Ruthven  followed;  and,  as  the  acclamations  of- the 
people  echoed  through  the  air,  Helen  pressed  the  precious  cross 
of  Wallace  to  her  bosom,  and  hastily  left  the  room  to  enjoy 
the  rapture  of  her  thoughts  in  the  blessed  retirement  of  her 
own  oratory. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days  after  the  promulgation  of  all 
this  happy  intelligence,  it  was  announced  that  the  regent  was 
on  his  return  to  Stirling.  Lady  Mar  was  not  so  inebriated 
with  her  vain  hopes  as  to  forget  that  Helen  might  traverse  the 
dearest  of  them  should  she  again  present  herself  to  its  object. 
She  therefore  hastened  to  her  when  the  time  of  his  expected 
arrival  drew  near,  and  putting  on  all  the  matron,  affected  to 
give  her  the  counsel  of  a  mother. 

As  all  the  noble  families  around  Stirling  would  assemble  to 
hail  the  victor's  return,  the  countess  said  she  came  to  advise 
her,  in  consideration  of  what  had  passed  in  the  chapel  before 
the  regent's  departure,  not  to  submit  herself  to  the  observa- 
tion of  so  many  eyes.  Not  suspecting  the  occult  devices 
which  worked  in  her  step-mother's  heart,  Helen  meekly  ac- 
quiesced, with  the  reply,  "I  shall  obey."  But  she  inwardly 
thought,  "  I,  who  know  the  heroism  of  his  soul,  need  not  pag- 
eants nor  acclamations  of  the  multitude  to  tell  me  what  he 
is.  He  is  already  too  bright  for  my  senses  to  support,  and 
with  his  image  pressing  on  my  heart  it  is  mercy  to  let  me 
shrink  from  his  glorious  presence." 

The  "  obey  "  was  sufficient  for  Lady  Mar ;  she  had  gained 
her  point.  For  though  she  did  not  seriously  think  what  sjie  had 
affected  to  believe,  that  anything  more  had  passed  between 
Wallace  and  Helen  than  what  they  had  openly  declared,  yet 
she  could  not  but  discern  the  harmony  of  their  minds,  and  she 
feared  that  frequent  intercourse  might  draw  such  sympathy 
to  something  dearer.  She  had  understanding  to  perceive  his . 
virtues,  but  they  found  no  answering  qualities  in  her  breast. 
The  matchless  beauty  of  his  person,  the  penetrating  tender- 
ness of  his  manner,  the  splendor  of  his  fame,  the  magnitude 
of  his  power,  —  all  united  to  set  her  impassioned  and  ambitious 

VOL.  II. -4 


50  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

soul  in  a  blaze.  Eacli  opposing  duty  seemed  only  a  vapor 
through  which  she  could  easily  pass  to  the  goal  of  her  desire. 
Hence  art  of  every  kind  appeared  to  her  to  be  no  more  than 
a  means  of  acquiring  the  object  most  valuable  to  her  in  life. 
Education  had  not  given  her  any  principle  by  which  she  might 
have  checked  the  headlong  impulse  of  her  now  aroused  pas- 
sions. Brought  up  as  a  worshipped  object  in  the  little  court 
of  her  parents  at  Kirkwall,  in  the  Orkneys  (her  father,  the 
Earl  of  Strathern,  in  Scotland,  and  her  mother  being  a  prin 
cess  of  Norway,  whose  dowry  brought  him  the  spvereignty  of 
those  isles),  their  daughter  never  knew  any  law  but  her  own 
will  from  her  doting  mother ;  and  on  the  fearful  loss  of  that 
mother  in  a  marine  excursion  of  pleasure,  by  an  accident  over- 
setting the  boat  she  was  in,  the  bereaved  daughter  fell  into 
such  a  despair  on  her  first  pang  of  grief  of  any  kind,  that  her 
similarly  distracted  father  (whose  little  dominions  happened 
then  to  be  menaced  by  a  descent  of  the  Danes)  sought  a  safe 
and  cheering  home  for  his  only  child  (at  the  interesting  age  of 
seventeen)  by  sending  her  over  sea  to  the  protecting  care  of 
his  long-affianced  friend,  the  Earl  of  Mar,  and  to  his  lovely 
countess,  then  an  only  three  years'  wife,  with  one  infant 
daughter.  Though  fond  of  admiration,  the  young  Joanna  of 
Orkney  had  held  herself  at  too  high  a  price  to  bestow  a 
thought  on  the  crowd  of  rough  sons  of  the  surge  (chiefs  of 
the  surrounding  isles  who  owned  her  father  as  lord)  who  daily 
adulated  her  charms  with  all  the  costliest  trophies  from  their 
ocean-spoils.  She  trod  past  them,  and  by  all  the  female  beau- 
ties in  her  isle,  with  the  step  of  an  undisputed  right  to  receive 
and  to  despise.  But  when  she  crossed  to  the  mainland,  and 
found  herself  by  the  side  of  a  woman  almost  as  young  as  her- 
self, and  equally  beautiful,  though  of  a  different  mould,  —  soft 
and  retreating,  while  hers  commanded  and  compelled ;  and 
that  the  husband  of  that  woman,  whose  tender  adoration  hov- 
ered over  her  with  a  perpetual  eye,  that  he,  though  of  compar- 
ative veteran  years,  was  handsomer  than  any  man  she  had  ever 
seen,  and  fraught  with  every  noble  grace  to  delight  the  female 
heart,  —  she  felt,  what  she  had  never  done  before,  that  she  had 
met  a  rival  and  an  object  worthy  to  subdue. 

What  Joanna  began  in  mere  excited  vanity,  jealous  pride, 
'and  ambition  of  conquest,  ended  in  a  fatal  attachment  to  the 
husband  of  her  innocent  and  too-confiding  protectress.  And 
he,  alas !  betrayed  first  by  her  insidious  wiles,  and  then  by  her 
overpowering  and  apparently  restrainless  demonstrations  of 
devoted  love,  was  so  far  won  "  from  the  propriety  "  of  his 


STIRLING.  51 

noble  heart  as  to  regard  with  a  grateful  admiration,  as  well  as 
a  manly  pity,  the  beautiful  victim  of  a  passion  he  had  so  un- 
wittingly raised.  In  the  midst  of  these  scenes,  too  often  acted 
for  his  peace  (though  not  for  his  honor  and  fidelity  to  his 
marriage  vow),  his  beloved  Isabella,  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  and 
till  then  the  joy  of  his  life,  died  in  the  pangs  of  a  premature 
confinement,  breathing  l\er  last  sigh  in  the  birth  of  a  daughter. 
Scarcely  was  the  countess  consigned  to  her  bed  of  earth,  and 
even  in  the  hour  after  the  last  duties  were  paid  to  her  whose 
closed  tomb  seemed  to  have  left  unto  him  "  his  house  deso- 
late," when  the  heart-desperate  Joanna  rushed  into  the  weep- 
ing husband's  presence,  fearful  of  being  now  restrainingly 
reclaimed  by  her  father,  who  had,. only  a  short  while  before, 
intimated  his  intention  to  relieve  his  friends  of  a  guardianship 
they  had  so  partially  fulfilled,  and  to  send  a  vessel  for  his 
daughter  to  bring  her  back  to  Kirkwall,  there  to  be  united  in 
marriage  to  the  brave  native  chieftain  whose  singular  prowess 
had  preserved  the  island  from  a  Danish  yoke.  Dreading  this 
event,  even  while  her  siren  tears  mingled  with  those  of  the 
widowed  Mar,  she  wrought  on  him  by  lavished  protestations 
of  a  devoted  love  for  his  two  infant  orphans  (Helen,  then  a 
child  of  hardly  two  years,  and  the  poor  babe  whose  existence 
had  just  cost  its  mother  her  life),  also,  of  a  never-dying 
dedication  of  herself  to  that  mother's  memory,  and  to  the 
tenderest  consolations  of  his  own  mourning  spirit.  She  wrought 
upon  him  to  rescue  her  from  her  now-threatened  abhorrent 
fate,  even  to  give  her  his  vow  to  wed  her  himself.  In  the 
weakness  of  an  almost  prostrated  mind,  under  the  load  of  con- 
flicting anguish  which  then  lay  on  him,  —  for  now,  feeling  his 
own  culpable  infirmity  in  having  suffered  this  dangerously 
flattering  preference  of  him  to  have  ever  showed  itself  to  him, 
without  his  having  done  his  positive  duty  by  sending  her 
home  at  once  to  her  proper  protector, — in  a  sudden  self-immo- 
lating agony  of  self-blame  he  assented  to  her  heart-wringing 
supplication,  that,  as  soon  as  propriety  would  permit,  she  should 
become  his  wife. 

The  Earl  of  Strathern  arrived  himself  within  the  week,  to 
condole  with  his  friend  and  to  take  back  his  daughter.  But 
the  scene  he  met  changed  his  ultimate  purpose.  Joanna  de- 
clared that  were  she  to  be  carried  away  to  marry  any  man  save 
that  friend  whose  protection  during  the  last  six  months  had 
been  to  her  as  that  of  all  relatives  in  one,  she  should  expire  on 
the  threshold  of  Castle  Braemer,  for  she  never  would  cross  it 
alive !  And  as  the  melancholy  widower,  but  grateful 


52  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

verified  his  vow  to  her  by  repeating  it  to  her  father,  —  within 
four  months  from  that  day  the  Earl  of  Mar  rejoined  the  Lady 
Joanna  at  Kirkwall,  and  brought  her  away  as  his  bride.  '  But 
to  avoid  exciting  any  invidious  remarks  by  immediately  appear- 
ing in  Scotland  after  so  prompt  a  nuptials,  the  new  countess, 
wary  in  her  triumph,  easily  persuaded  her  husband  to  take  her 
for  a  while  to  France,  where,  assuming  a  cold  and  majestic 
demeanor,  which  she  thought  becoming  her  royal  descent,  she 
resided  several  years.  Thus  changed  she  returned  to  Scotland. 
She  found  the  suspicion  of  any  former  indiscretion  faded  from 
all  minds ;  and  passing  her  time  in  the  stately  hospitalities  of 
her  lord's  castle,  conducted  herself  with  a  matronly  dignity 
that  made  him  the  envy  of  all  the  married  chieftains  in  his 
neighborhood.  Soon  after  her  arrival  at  Kildrumy,  on  the 
river  Dee,1  her  then  most  favorite  residence,  she  took  the  Lady 
Helen,  the  supplanted  Isabella's  first-born  daughter,  from  her 
grandfather,  at  Thirlestane,  where  both  children  had  been  left  on 
the  departure  of  their  father  and  his  bride  for  France.  Though 
hardly  past  the  period  of  absolute  childhood,  the  Lord  Soulis 
at  this  time  offered  the  young  heiress  of  Mar  his  hand.  The 
countess  had  then  no  interest  in  wishing  the  union ;  having 
not  yet  any  children  of  her  own  to  make  her  jealous  for  their 
father's  love,  she  permitted  her  daughter-in-law  to  decide  as  she 
pleased.  A  second  time  he  presented  himself,  and  Lady  Mai- 
still  indifferent,  allowed  Helen  a  second  time  to  refuse  him. 

Years  flew  over  the  heads  of  the  ill-joined  pair ;  but  while 
they  whitened  the  raven  locks  of  the  earl,  and  withered  his 
manly  brow,  the  beauty  of  his  countess  blew  into  fuller  luxu- 
riance. Yet  it  was  her  mirror  alone  that  told  her  she  was 
fairer  than  all  the  ladies  around ;  for  none  durst  invade  the 
severe  decorum  of  her  manners  with  so  light  a  whisper.  Such 
was  her  state  when  she  first  heard  of  the  rise  of  Sir  William 
Wallace,  and  when  she  thought  that  her  husband  might  not 
only  lose  his  life,  but  risk  the  forfeiture  of  his  family  honors 
by  joining  him,  for  her  own  sake  and  for  her  children  (having 
recently  become  the  mother  of  twins),  she  had  then  determined, 
if  it  were  necessary,  to  make  the  outlawed  chief  a  sacrifice. 
To  this  end  she  became  willing  to  bribe  Soulis's  participation 
by  the  hand  of  Helen.  She  knew  that  her  daughter-in-law 
abhorred  his  character;  but  love,  indifference,  or  hatred  she 
now  thought  of  little  consequence  in  a  marriage  which  brought 
sufficient  antidotes  in  rank  and  wealth.  She  had  never  felt 

1  This  most  magnificent  castle  of  the  Lords  Mar,  as  well  as  the  sterner  old  fortress  of 
Braemont,  was  situated  in  Aberdeeushiie.     Both  remain  in  picturesque  decay. 


STIRLTNG   AND    SNAWDOUN.  53 

what  real  love  was,  and  her  personal  vanity  being  no  longer 
agitated  by  the  raptures  of  a  frantic  rivalry,  she  now  lived 
tranquilly  with  Lord  Mar.  What,  then,  was  her  astonishment, 
what  the  wild  distraction  of  her  heart,  when  she  first  beheld 
Sir  William  Wallace,  and  found  in  her  breast  for  him  all 
which  in  the  moment  of  the  most  unreflecting  intoxication  she 
had  ever  felt  for  her  lord,  with  the  addition  of  feelings  and 
sentiments  the  existence  of  which  she  had  never  believed,  but 
now  knew  in  all  their  force  !  Love,  for  the  first  time,  pene- 
trated through  every  nerve  of  her  body  and  possessed  her 
whole  mind.  Taught  a  theory  of  virtue  by  her  husband,  she 
was  startled  at  wishes  which  militated  against  his  honor ;  but 
no  principles  being  grounded  in  her  mind,  they  soon  disappeared 
before  the  furious  charge  of  her  passions,  and  after  a  short 
struggle  she  surrendered  herself  to  the  lawless  power  of  a 
guilty  and  ambitious  love.  Wishes,  hopes,  and  designs,  which 
two  years  before  she  would  have  shuddered  at,  as  not  only  sin- 
ful but  derogatory  to  female  delicacy,  she  now  embraced  with 
ardor,  and  naught  seemed  dreadful  to  her  but  disappointment. 
The  prolonged  life  of  Lord  Mar  cost  her  many  tears,  for  the 
master-passions  of  her  nature,  which  she  had  laid  asleep  on 
her  marriage  with  the  earl,  broke  out  with  redoubled  violence 
at  the  sight  of  Wallace.  His  was  the  most  perfect  of  manly 
forms  —  and  she  loved;  he  was  great  —  and  her  ambition 
blazed  into  an  unextinguishable  flame.  These  two  strong 
passions  meeting  in  a  breast  weakened  by  the  besetting  sin  of 
her  youth,  their  rule  was  absolute,  and  neither  virtue,  honor, 
nor  humanity  could  stand  before  them.  Her  husband  was 
abhorred,  her  infant  son  forgotten,  and  nothing  but  Wallace 
and  a  crown  could  find  a  place  in  her  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

STIRLING    AND  SNAWDOUN. 

THE  few  chieftains  who  had  remained  on  their  estates  during 
the  suspense  before  the  battle,  from  a  belief  that  if  the  issue 
proved  unfavorable  they  should  be  safest  amongst  their  native 
glens,  now  came  with  numerous  trains  to  greet  the  return  of 
their  victorious  regent.  The  ladies  brought  forth  their  most 
splendid  apparel ;  and  the  nouses  of  Stirling  were  hung  with 
tapestry,  to  hail  with  due  respect  the  benefactor  of  the  land. 


54  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

At  last  the  hour  arrived  when  a  messenger,  whom  Lord  Mai 
had  sent  out  for  the  purpose,  returned  on  full  speed  with  in- 
formation that  the  regent  was  passing  the  Carron.  At  these 
tidings  the  animated  old  earl  called  out  his  retinue,  mounted 
his  coal-black  steed,  and  ordered  a  sumptuous  charger  to  be 
caparisoned  with  housings  wrought  in  gold  by  the  hands  of 
Lady  Mar  and  her  ladies.  The  horse  was  intended  to  meet 
Wallace  and  to  bring  him  into  the  city.  Edwin  led  it  forward. 
In  the  rear  of  the  Earls  Mar  and  Badenoch  came,  all  the 
chieftains  of  the  country  in  gallant  array.  Their  ladies,  on 
splendid  palfreys,  followed*  the  superb  car  of  the  Countess  of 
Mar,  and  preceding  the  multitudes  of  Stirling  left  the  town  a 
desert.  Not  a  living  being  seemed  now  within  its  walls 
excepting  the  Southron  prisoners,  who  had  assembled  on  the 
top  of  the  citadel  to  view  the  return  of  their  conqueror. 

Helen  remained  in  Snawdoun,  believing  that  she  was  the 
only  soul  left  in  that  vast  palace.  She  sat  musing  on  the  ex- 
traordinary fate  of  Wallace :  a  few  months  ago  a  despised  out- 
law, at  this  moment  the  idol  of  the  nation ;  and  then  turned 
to  herself,  the  wooed  of  many  a  gallant  heart,  and  now  de- 
voted to  one  whom,  like  the  sun,  she  must  ever  contemplate 
with  admiration,  while  he  should  pass  on  above  -her  sphere, 
unconscious  of  the  devotion  which  filled  her  soul. 

The  distant  murmur  of  the  populace  thronging  out  of  the 
streets  towards  the  carse  gradually  subsided,  and  at  last  she 
was  left  in  profound  silence.  "  He  must  be  near,"  thought  she ; 
"  he  whose  smile  is  more  precious  to  me  than  the  adulation 
of  all  the  world  besides  now  smiles  upon  every  one.  All  look 
upon  him,  all  hear  him,  but  I  —  and  I  —  Ah,  Wallace,  did 
Marion  love  thee  dearer  ?  "  As  her  devoted  heart  demanded 
this  question,  her  tender  and  delicate  soul  shrunk  within  her- 
self, and  deeply  blushing  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  A 
pause  of  a  few  minutes,  and  a  sound  as  if  the  skies  were  rent 
tore  the  air;  a  noise  like  the  distant  roar  of  the  sea  suc- 
ceeded, and  soon  after,  the  shouts  of  an  approaching  multi- 
tude shook  the  palace  to  its  foundations.  Helen  started  on 
her  feet ;  the  tumult  of  voices  augmented ;  the  sound  of  coming 
squadrons  thundered  over  the  ground.  At  this  instant  every 
bell  in  the  city  began  its  peals,  and  the  door  of  Helen's  room 
suddenly  opened.  Lady  Kuthven  hurried  in.  "  Helen," 
cried  she,  "I  would  not  disturb  you  before,  but  as  you  were  to 
be  absent,  I  would  not  make  one  in  Lady  Mar's  train,  and  I 
come  to  enjoy  with  you  the  return  of  our  beloved  regent." 

Helen  did  not  speak,  but  her  eloquent  countenance  amply 


STIRLING   AND    SN AW  DO  UN.  55 

told  her  aunt  what  were  the  emotions  of  her  heart ;  and  Lady 
Ruthven,  taking  her  hand,  attempted  to  draw  her  towards  an 
oriel  window  which  opened  to  a  view  of  the  High  street,  but 
Helen,  shrinking  from  the  movement,  begged  to  be  excused. 
"  I  hear  enough/'  said  she,  "  my  dear  aunt.  Sights  like  these 
overcome  me ;  let  me  remain  where  I  am." 

Lady  Ruthven  was  going  to  remonstrate  when  the  loud 
huzzas  of  the  people  and  soldiers,  accompanied  by  acclamations 
of  "  Long  live  victorious  Wallace,  our  prince  and  king !  "  struck 
Helen  back  into  her  seat,  and  Lady  Ruthven,  darting  towards 
the  window,  cried  aloud,  "  He  comes,  Helen,  he  comes  !  His 
bonnet  off  his  noble  brow.  Oh,  how  princely  does  he  look ! 
—  and  now  he  bows.  Ah,  they  shower  flowers  upon  him 
from  the  houses  on  each  side  of  the  street ;  how  sweetly  he 
smiles  and  bows  to  the  ladies  as  they  lean  from  their  windows  ! 
Come,  Helen,  come,  if  you  would  see  the  perfection  of  majesty 
and  modesty  united  in  one  ! " 

Helen  did  not  move,  but  Lady  Ruthven,  stretching  out  her 
arm,  in  a  moment  had  drawn  her  within  view  of  Wallace. 
She  saw  him  attended  as  a  conqueror  and  a  king,  but  with  the 
eyes  of  a  benefactor  and  a  brother  he  looked  on  all  around. 
The  very  memory  of  war  seemed  to  vanish  before  his  presence, 
for  all  there  was  love  and  gentleness.  Helen  drew  a  quick 
sigh,  and,  closing  her  eyes,  dropped  against  the  arras.  She 
now  heard  the  buzz  of  many  voices,  the  rolling  peal  of  accla- 
mations, but  she  distinguished  nothing,  her  senses  were  in 
tumults,  and  had  not  Lady  Ruthven  seen  her  disorder  she 
would  have  fallen  motionless  to  the  floor.  The  good  matron 
was  not  so  forgetful  of  the  feelings  of  a  virtuous,  youthful 
heart  not  to  have  discovered  something  of  what  was  passing  in 
that  of  her  niece.  From  the  moment  in  which  she  had  sus- 
pected that  Wallace  had  made  a  serious  impression  there  she 
dropped  all  trifling  wittt  his  name.  And  now  that  she  saw  the 
distressing  effects  of  that  impression,  with  revulsed  feelings 
she  took  the  fainting  Helen  in  her  arms,  and  laying  her  on  a 
couch,  by  the  aid  of  volatiles  restored  her  to  recollection. 
Seeing  her  recovered,  she  made  no  observation  on  this  emo- 
tion, and  Helen  leaned  her  head  and  wept  upon  the  bosom  of 
her  aunt.  Lady  Ruthveii's  tears  silently  mingled  with  hers, 
but  she  said  within  herself,  "  Wallace  cannot  be  always  so  in- 
sensible to  so  much  excellence." 

As  the  acclaiming  populace  passed  the  palace  on  their  way 
to  the  citadel,  whither  they  were  escorting  their  regent,  Helen 
remained  quiet  in  her  leaning  position  j  but  when  the  noise 


56  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

died  away  into  hoarse  murmurs  she  raised  her  head,  and 
glancing  on  the  tear-bathed  face  of  her  affectionate  aunt,  said, 
with  a  forced  smile,  "  My  more  than  mother,  fear  me  not !  I 
am  grateful  to  Sir  William  Wallace ;  I  venerate  him  as  the 
Southrons  do  their  St.  George,  but  I  need  not  your  tender 
pity."  As  she  spoke  her  beautiful  lip  quivered,  but  her 
voice  was  steady.  "  My  sweetest  Helen, "  replied  Lady  Ruth- 
ven,  "  how  can  I  pity  her  for  whom  I  hope  everything  !  "  — 
"  Hope  nothing  for  me,"  returned  Helen,  understanding  by  her 
looks  what  her  tongue  had  left  unsaid,  "  but  to  see  me  a  vestal 
here  and  a  saint  in  heaven."  —  "  What  can  my  Helen  mean  ?  " 
replied  Lady  Ruthven  ;  "  who  would  talk  of  being  a  vestal  with 
such  a  heart  in  view  as  that  of  the  regent  of  Scotland  ?  and  that 
it  will  be  yours,  does  not  his  eloquent  gratitude  declare  ?  "  — 
"  No,  my  aunt,"  answered  Helen,  casting  down  her  eyes  ; 
"  gratitude  is  eloquent  where  love  would  be  silent.  I  am  not 
so  sacrilegious  as  to  wish  that  Sir  William  Wallace  should 
transfer  that  heart  to  me  which  the  blood  of  Marion  forever 
purchased.  No  ;  should  these  people  compel  him  to  be  their 
king,  I  will  retire  to  some  monastery,  and  forever  devote  my- 
self to  God  and  to  prayers  for  my  country." 

The  holy  composure  which  spread  over  the  countenance  and 
figure  of  Helen  as  she  uttered  this  seemed  to  extend  itself  to 
the  before  eager  mind  of  Lady  Ruthven ;  she  pressed  her 
tenderly  in  her  arms,  and  kissing  her,  "  Gentlest  of  human 
beings  !  "  cried  she,  "  whatever  be  thy  lot  it  must  be  happy."  — 
"  Whatever  it  be,"  answered  Helen,  "  I  know  that  there  is  an 
Almighty  reason  for  it.  I  shall  understand  it  in  the  world  to 
come,  and  I  chiefly  acquiesce  in  this."  —  "  Oh  that  the  ears  of 
Wallace  could  hear  thee  !  "  cried  Lady  Ruthven.  —  "They 
will,  some  time,  my  gracious  aunt,"  answered  she  with  an 
angelic  smile.  —  "  When  ?  where,  djearest  ?  "  asked  Lady 
Ruthven,  hoping  that  she  began  to  have  fairer  anticipations 
for  herself.  Helen  answered  not,  but  pointing  to  the  sky 
rose  from  her  seat,  with  an  air  as  if  she  were  really  going  to 
ascend  to  those  regions  which  seemed  best  fitted  to  receive 
her  pure  spirit.  Lady  Ruthven  gazed  on  her  in  speechless 
admiration,  and  without  a  word  or  an  impeding  motion  felt 
Helen  softly  kiss  her  hand,  and  with  another  seraphic  smile 
glide  gently  from  her  into  her  closet  and  close  her  door. 

Far  different  were  the  emotions  which  agitated  the  bosoms 
of  every  person  present  at  the  entry  of  Sir  William  Wallace. 
All  but  himself  regarded  it  as  the  triumph  of  the  king  of 
Scotland.  And  while  some  of  the  nobles  exulted  in  their 


STIRLING   AND    SNAWDOUN.  57 

future  monarch,  the  major  part  felt  the  demon  of  envy  so 
possess  their  souls  that  they  who,  before  his  arrival,  were 
ready  to  worship  his  name,  now  looked  on  the  empire  to 
which  lie  seemed  borne  on  the  hearts  of  the  people  with  a 
rancorous  jealousy,  which  from  that  moment  vowed  his 
humiliation  or  the  fall  of  Scotland.  The  very  tongues  which 
in  the  general  acclaim  called  loudest  "  Long  live  our  king ! '' 
belonged  to  those  who,  in  the  secret  recesses  of  their  souls, 
swore  to  work  his  ruin,  and  to  make  these  full-blown  honors 
the  means  of  his  destruction.  He  had  in  vain  tried  to  check 
what  his  moderate  desires  deemed  the  extravagant  gratitude 
of  the  people ;  but  finding  his  efforts  only  excited  still  louder 
demonstrations  of  their  love,  and  knowing  himself  inmovable 
in  his  resolution  to  remain  a  subject  of  the  crown,  he  rode 
on  composedly  towards  the  citadel. 

Those  ladies  who  had  not  retired  from  the  cavalcade  to 
hail  their  regent  a  second  time  from  their  windows,  preceded 
him  in  Lady  Mar's  train  to  the  hall,  where  she  had  caused  a 
sumptuous  feast  to  be  spread  to  greet  'his  arrival.  Two  seats 
were  placed  under  a  canopy  of  cloth  of  gold  at  the  head  of  the 
board.  The  countess  stood  there  in  all  the  splendor  of  her 
ideal  rank,  and  would  have  seated  Wallace  in  the  royal  chair 
on  her  right  hand,  but  he  drew  back.  "  I  am  only  a  guest  in 
this  citadel,"  returned  he,  "and  it  would  ill  become  me  to 
take  the  place  of  the*  master  of  the  banquet.7'  As  he  spoke  he 
looked  on  Lord  Mar,  who,  understanding  the  language  of  his 
eyes,  which  never  said  the  thing  he  would  not,  without  a  word 
took  the  kingly  seat,  and  so  disappointed  the  countess.  By 
this  refusal  she  still  found  herself  as  no  more  than  the  gov- 
ernor of  Stirling's  wife,  when  she  had  hoped  a  compliance  with 
her  cunning  arrangement  would  have  hinted  to  all  that  she 
was  to  be  the  future  queeiiof  their  acknowledged  sovereign. 
They  who  knew  Wallace  saw  his  unshaken  resolution  in  this 
apparently  slight  action,  but  others  who  read  his  design  in 
their  own  ambition  translated  it  differently,  and  deemed  it 
only  an  artful  rejection  of  the  appendages  of  royalty  to  excite 
the  impatience  of  the  people  to  crown  him  in  reality. 

As  the  ladies  took  their  seats  at  the  board,  Edwin,  who 
stood  by  the  chair  of  his  beloved  lord,  whispered,  "  Our  Helen 
is  not  here." 

Lady  Mar  overheard  the  name  of  Helen,  but  she  could  not 
distinguish  Wallace's  reply,  and  fearing  that  some  second 
assignation  of  more  happy  termination  than  that  of  the  chapel 
might  be  designed,  she  determined  that  if  Edwin  were  to  be 


58  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  bearer  of  a  secret  correspondence  between  the  man  she 
loved  and  the  daughter  she  hated,  to  deprive  them  speedily 
of  so  ready  an  assistant. 


CHAPTER   LIL 

BANKS    OP    THE    FORTH. 

IN  collected  council  the  following  day  the  Earl  of  March 
made  his  treacherous  request,  and  Wallace,  trusting  his 
vehement  oaths  of  fidelity  -(because  he  thought  the  versatile 
earl  had  now  discovered  his  true  interest),  granted  him  charge 
of  the  Lothians.  The  Lords  Athol  and  Buchan  were  not  back- 
ward in  offering  their  services  to  the  regent,  and  the  rest  of 
the  discontented  nobles  following  the  base  example,  with  equal 
deceit  bade  him  command  their  lives  and  fortunes.  While 
asseverations  of  loyalty  filled  the  walls  of  the  council-hall, 
and  the  lauding  rejoicings  of  the  people  still  sounded  from 
without,  all  spoke  of  security  and  confidence  to  Wallace ;  and 
never,  perhaps,  did  he  think  himself  so  absolute  in  the  heart 
of  Scotland  as  at  the  very  moment  when  three-fourths  of  its 
nobility  were  plotting  his  destruction. 

Lord  Loch-awe  knew  his  own  influence  in  the  minds  of  the 
bravest  chieftains.1  From  the  extent  of  his  territories  and 
his  tried  valor  he  might  well  have  assumed  the  title  of  his 
great  ancestor,  and  been  called  king  of  Woody  Morven;  but 
he  was  content  with  a  patriarch's  sway  over  so  many  valiant 
clans,  and  previous  to  the  regent's  appearance  in  the  council- 
hall  he  opened  his  intentions  to  the  assembled  lords.  Some 
assented  with  real  satisfaction,  the  rest  readily  acquiesced  in 
what  they  had  laid  so  sure  a  plan  to  circumvent. 

Wallace  soon  after  entered.  Loch-awe  rising,  stood  forth 
before  him,  and  in  a  long  and  persuasive  speech  once  more 
declared  the  wishes  of  the  nation,  that  he  would  strike  the 
decisive  blow  on  the  pretensions  of  Edward  by  himself  accept- 
ing the  crown.  The  Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  with  all  the  eloquence 
of  learning  and  the  most  animated  devotion  to  the  interest  of 
Scotland,  seconded  the  petition.  Mar  and  Bothwell  enforced 
it.  The  disaffected  lords  thought  proper  to  throw  in  their 
conjurations  also,  and  'every  voice  but  that  of  Badenoch 

1  Ancestor  to  the  brave  and  loyal  House  of  Argyle. 


BANKS    OF    THE    FORTH.  59 

poured  forth  fervent  entreaties  that  he,  their  liberator,  would 
grant  the  supplication  of  the  nation. 

Wallace  rose,  and  every  tongue  was  mute.  "My  gratitude 
to  Scotland  increases  with  my  life,  but  my  answer  must  still 
be  the  same  —  I  cannot  be  its  king." 

At  these  words  the  venerable  Loch-awe  threw  himself  on 
his  knees  before  him.  "  In  my  person,"  cried  he,  "  see  Scotland 
at  your  feet !  still  bleeding  with  the  effects  of  former  struggles 
for  empire,  she  would  throw  off  all  claims  but  those  of  virtue, 
and  receive  as  her  anointed  sovereign,  her  father  and  deliverer! 
She  has  no  more  arguments  to  utter ;  these  are  her  prayers,  and 
thus  I  offer  them." 

"Kneel  not  to  me,  brave  Loch-awe!  "  cried  Wallace  ;  "nor 
believe  the  might  of  these  victories  lies  so  thoroughly  in  this 
arm  that  I  dare  outrage  its  Maker.  Were  I  to  comply  with 
your  wishes  I  should  disobey  Him  who  has  hitherto  made  me 
His  happy  agent,  and  how  could  I  guard  my  kingdom  from  His 
vengeance  ?  Your  rightful  king  yet  lives  ;  he  is  an  alien  from 
his  country,  but  Heaven  may  return  him  to  your  prayers. 
Meanwhile,  as  his  representative,  as  your  soldier  and  protector, 
I  shall  be  blest  in  wearing  out  my  life.  My  ancestors  were 
ever  faithful  to  the  blood  of  Alexander,  and  in  the  same  fidelity 
I  will  die." 

The  firmness  with  which  he  spoke  and  the  determined  ex- 
pression of  his  noble  countenance  convinced  Loch-awe  that  he 
was  not  to  be  shaken,  and  rising  from  his  knee  he  bowed  in 
silence.  March  whispered  to  Buchan,  "  Behold  the  hypocrite  ! 
But  we  shall  unmask  him.  He  thinks  to  blind  us  to  his 
towering  ambition  by  this  affected  moderation.  He  will  not 
be  called  a  king,  because  with  our  crown  certain  limitations  are 
laid  on  the  prerogative ;  but  he  will  be  our  regent,  that  he  may 
be  our  dictator,  and  every  day  demand  gratitude  for  voluntary 
services  which,  performed  as  a  king,  could  only  be  considered 
as  his  duty." 

When  the  council  broke  up  these  sentiments  were  actively 
disseminated  amongst  the  disaffected  throng,  and  each  gloomy 
recess  in  the  woods  murmured  with  seditious  meetings.  But 
every  lip  in  the  country  at  large  breathed  the  name  of  Wallace 
as  they  would  have  done  a  god's,  while  the  land  that  he  had 
blessed  bloomed  on  every  hill  and  valley  like  a  garden. 

Stirling  now  exhibited  a  constant  carnival;  peace  was  in 
every  heart,  and  joy  its  companion.  As  Wallace  had  com- 
manded in  the  field  he  decided  in  the  judgment-hall ;  and  while 
all  his  behests  were  obeyed  with  a  promptitude  which  kept  the 


60  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

machine  of  state  constantly  moving  in  the  most  beautiful 
order,  his  bitterest  enemies  could  not  but  secretly  acknowledge 
the  perfection  they  were  determined  to  destroy. 

His  munificent  hand  stretched  itself  far  and  near,  that  all 
who  had  shared  the  sufferings  of  Scotland  might  drink  largely 
of  her  prosperity.  The  good  abbot  of  Scone  was  invited  from 
his  hermitage,  and  when  he  heard  from  the  ambassadors  sent 
to  him  that  the  brave  young  warrior  whom  he  had  entertained 
was  the  resistless  Wallace,  he  no  longer  thought  of  the  distant 
and  supine  Bruce,  but  centred  every  wish  for  his  country  in 
the  authority  of  her  deliverer.  A  few  days  brought  him  to 
Stirling,  and  wishing  to  remain  near  the  most  constant  resi- 
dence of  his  noble  friend,  he  requested  that  instead  of  being 
restored  to  Scone  he  might  be  installed  in  the  vacant  monastery 
of  Cambus-Kenneth.  Wallace  gladly  acquiesced ;  and  the 
venerable  abbot,  being  told  that  his  late  charge,  the  Lady 
Helen,  was  in  the  palace,  went  to  visit  her,  and  as  he  communi- 
cated his  exultation  and  happiness,  she  rejoiced  in  the  bene- 
dictions which  his  grateful  spirit  invoked  on  the  head  of  her 
almost  worshipped  sovereign.  Her  heart  gave  him  this  title, 
which  she  believed  the  not  to  be  repressed  affection  of  the 
people  would  at  last  force  him  to  accept. 

The  wives  and  families  of  the  Lanark  veterans  were  brought 
from  Loch  Doine  and  again  planted  in  their  native  valleys ; 
thus,  naught  in  the  kingdom  appeared  different  from  its  most 
prosperous  days  but  the  widowed  heart  of  the  dispenser  of 
all  this  good.  And  yet  so  fully  did  he  engage  himself  in  the 
creation  of  these  benefits  that  no  time  seemed  left  to  him  for 
regrets,  but  they  haunted  him  like  persecuting  spirits,  invisible 
to  all  but  himself. 

During  the  performance  of  these  things  the  Countess  of 
Mar,  though  apparently  lost  to  all  other  pursuits  than  the 
peaceable  enjoyment  of  her  reflected  dignities,  was  absorbed 
in  the  one  great  object  of  her  passion.  Eager  to  be  rid  of 
so  dangerous  a  spy  and  adversary  as  she  deemed  Edwin  to 
be,  she  was  laboring  day  and  night  to  effect  by  clandestine 
schemes  his  banishment,  when  an  unforeseen  circumstance 
carried  him  far  away.  Lord  Ruthven,  while  on  an  embassy 
to  the  Hebrides,  fell  ill.  As  his  disorder  was  attended  with 
extreme  danger,  he  sent  for  his  wife  ;  and  Edwin,  impelled 
by  love  for  his  father  and  anxiety  to  soothe  the  terrified 
suspense  of  his  mother,  readily  left  the  side  of  his  friend  to 
accompany  her  to  the  isles.  Lady  Mar  had  now  no  scrutiniz- 
ing  eye  to  fear ;  her  nephew  Murray  was  still  on  duty  in 


BANKS    OF    THE    FORTH.  61 

Clydesdale ;  the  earl  her  husband  trusted  her  too  implicitly 
even  to  turn  on  her  a  suspicious  look;  and  Helen,  she  con- 
trived, should  be  as  little  in  her  presence  as  possible. 

Busy,  then,  as  this  lady  was,  the  enemies  of  the  regent  were 
not  less  active  in  the  prosecution  of  their  plans.  The  Earl 
of  March  had  arrived  at  Dunbar,  and  having  despatched  his 
treasonable  proposals  to  Edward,  had  received  letters  from 
that  monarch  by  sea,  accepting  his  services,  and  promising 
every  reward  that  could  satisfy  his  ambition  and  the  cupidity 
of  those  whom  he  could  draw  over  to  his  cause.  The  wary 
king  then  told  the  earl  that  if  he  would  send  his  wife  and 
family  to  London  as  hostages  for  his  faith,  he  was  ready  to 
bring  a  mighty  army  to  Dunbar,  and  by  that  gate  once  more 
enter  Scotland.  These  negotiations  backwards  and  forwards 
from  London  to  Dunbar,  and  from  Dunbar  to  the  treacherous 
lords  at  Stirling,  occupied  much  time,  and  the  more  as  great 
precaution  was  necessary  to  escape  the  vigilant  eyes  of  Wal- 
lace, which  seemed  to  be  present  in  every  part  of  the  kingdom 
at  once.  So  careful  was  he  in  overlooking,  by  his  well-chosen 
officers,  civil  and  military,  every  transaction,  that  the  slightest 
dereliction  from  the  straight  order  of  things  was  immediately 
seen  and  examined  into.  Many  of  these  trusty  magistrates 
having  been  placed  in  the  Lothians  before  March  took  the 
government,  he  could  not  now  remove  them  without  exciting 
suspicion,  and  therefore,  as  they  remained,  great  circumspec- 
tion was  used  to  elude  their  watchfulness. 

From  the  time  that  Edward  had  again  entered  into  terms 
with  the  Scottish  chiefs,  Lord  March  sent  regular  tidings  to 
Lord  Soulis  of  the  progress  of  their  negotiation.  He  knew 
that  nobleman  would  gladly  welcome  the  recall  of  the  King 
of  England ;  for  ever  since  the  revolution  in  favor  of  Scot- 
land he  had  remained  obstinately  shut  up  within  his  castle  of 
Hermitage.  Chagrin  at  having  lost  Helen  was  not  the  least 
of  his  mortifications,  and  the  wounds  he  had  received  from 
the  invisible  hand  which  had  released  her,  having  been  given 
with  all  the  might  of  the  valiant  arm  which  directed  the 
blow,  were  not  even  now  healed ;  his  passions  kept  them  still 
inflamed,  and  their  smart  made  his  vengeance  burn  the  fiercer 
against  Wallace,  who  he  now  learnt  was  the  mysterious  agent 
of  her  rescue. 

While  treason  secretly  prepared  to  spring  its  mine  beneath 
the  feet  of  the  regent,  he,  unsuspicious  that  any  could  be  dis- 
contented where  all  were  free  and  prosperous,  thought  of  no 
enemy  to  the  tranquil  fulfilment  of  his  .duties  but  the  minor 


62  THE    SCOTTISH   CHIEFS. 

persecutions  of  LMy  Mar.  No  day  escaped  without  bringing 
him  letters  either  To  invite  him  to  Snawdoun,  or  to  lead  her  to 
the  citadel  where  he  resided.  In  every  one  of  these  epistles  she 
declared  that  it  was  no  longer  the  wildness  of  passion  which 
impelled  her  to  seek  his  society,  but  the  moderated  regard  of  a 
friend.  And  though  perfectly  aware  of  all  that  was  behind 
these  asseverations  (for  she  had  deceived  him  once  into  a  belief 
of  this  plea,  and  had  made  him  feel  its  falseness),  he  found 
himself  forced  at  times  out  of  the  civility  due  to  her  sex  to 
comply  with  her  invitations.  Indeed,  her  conduct  never  gave 
him  reason  to  hold  her  in  any  higher  respect,  for  whenever 
they  happened  to  be  left  alone,  her  behavior  exhibited  anything 
but  the  chaste  affection  to  which  she  made  pretensions.  The 
frequency  of  these  scenes  at  last  made  him  never  go  to  Snaw- 
doun  unaccompanied  (for  she  rarely  allowed  him  to  have  even 
a  glimpse  of  Helen),  and  by  this  precaution  he  avoided  much 
of  her  solicitations.  But  strange  to  say,  even  at  the  time  that 
this  conduct,  by  driving  her  to  despair,  might  have  excited  her 
to  some  desperate  act,  her  wayward  heart  threw  the  blame  of 
his  coldness  upon  her  trammels  with  Lord  Mar,  and  flattering 
herself  that  were  he  dead  all  would  happen  as  she  wished,  she 
panted  for  that  hour  with  an  impatience  which  often  tempted 
her  to  precipitate  the  event. 

Things  were  in  this  situation  when  Wallace,  one  night,  re- 
ceived a  hasty  summons  from  his  pillow  by  a  page  of  Lord 
Mar's,  requesting  him  to  immediately  repair  to  his  chamber. 
Concluding  that  something  alarming  must  have  happened,  he 
threw  on  his  brigandine  and  plaid  and  entered  the  apartments 
of  the  governor.  Mar  met  him  with  a  countenance  the  herald 
of  a  dreadful  matter.  "  What  has  happened  ?  "  inquired  Wal- 
lace. —  "  Treason,"  answered  Mar,  "  but  from  what  point  I  can- 
not guess.  My  daughter  has  braved  a  dark  and  lonely  walk 
from  Snawdoun  to  bring  the  proofs."  While  speaking  he  led 
the  chief  into  the  room  where  Helen  sat  like  some  fair  spectre 
of  the  night,  her  long  hair,  disordered  by  the  winds  of  a  noc- 
turnal storm,  mingling  with  the  gray  folds  of  the  mantle  which 
enveloped  her.  Wallace  hastened  forward.  She  now  no  longer 
flitted  away,  scared  from  his  approach  by  the  frowning  glances 
of  her  step-mother.  He  had  once  attempted  to  express  his 
grateful  regrets  for  what  she  had  suffered  in  her  lovely  person 
for  his  sake,  but  the  countess  had  then  interrupted  him,  and 
Helen  disappeared.  Now  he  beheld  her  in  a  presence  where 
he  could  declare  all  his  gratitude  without  subjecting  its  gentle 
object  to  one  harsh  word  in  consequence,  and  almost  forgetting 


BANKS    OF    THE    FORTH.  63 

his  errand  to  the  governor  and  the  tidings  he  had  just  heard, 
he  remembered  only  the  manner  in  whieh  she  had  shielded  his 
life  with  her  arms,  and  he  bent  his  knee  respectfully  before  her 
as  she  rose  to  his  approach.  Blushing  and  silent  she  extended 
her  hand  to  him  to  rise.  He  pressed  it  warmly.  "  Sweet  ex- 
cellence ! "  said  he,  "  I  am  happy  in  this  opportunity,  however 
gained,  again  to  pour  out  my  acknowledgments  to.  you ;  and 
though  I  have  been  denied  that  pleasure  until  now,  yet  the 
memory  of  your  generous  interest  in  the  friend  of  your  father 
is  one  of  the  most  cherished  sentiments  of  my  heart." 

"  It  is  my  happiness  as  well  as  my  duty,  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace," replied  she,  "to  regard  you  and  my  country  as  one,  and 
that,  I  hope,  will  excuse  the  perhaps  rash  action  of  this  night." 
As  she  spoke,  he  rose  and  looked  at  Lord  Mar  for  explanation. 

The  earl  held  a  roll  of  vellum  towards  him.  "  This  writ- 
ing," said  he,  "was  found  this  evening  by  my  daughter.  She 
was  enjoying  with  my  wife  and  other  ladies  a  moonlight  walk 
on  the  shores  of  the  Forth  behind  the  palace,  when,  having 
strayed  at  some  distance  from  her  friends,  she  saw  this  packet 
lying  in  the  path  before  her  as  if  it  had  been  just  dropped. 
It  bore  no  direction ;  she  therefore  opened  it,  and  part  of  the 
contents  soon  told  her  she  must  conceal  the  whole  till  she 
could  reveal  them  to  me.  Not  even  to  my  wife  did  she  intrust 
the  dangerous  secret,  nor  would  she  run  any  risk  by  sending 
it  by  a  messenger.  As  soon  as  the  family  were  gone  to  rest 
she  wrapped  herself  in  her  plaid,  and  finding  a  passage  through 
one  of  the  low  embrasures  of  Snawdoun,  with  a  fleet  step 
made  her  way  to  the  citadel  and  to  me.  She  gave  me  the 
packet.  Kead  it,  my  friend,  and  judge  if  we  do  not  owe  our- 
selves to  Heaven  for  so  critical  a  discovery." 

Wallace  took  the  scroll  and  read  it  as  follows : 

"  Our  trusty  fellows  will  bring  you  this,  and  deliver  copies 
of  the  same  to  the  rest.  We  shall  be  with  you  in  four-and- 
twenty  hours  after  it  arrives.  The  army  of  our  liege  lord  is 
now  in  the  Lothians,  passing  through  them  under  the  appella- 
tion of  succors  for  the  regent  from  the  Hebrides.  Keep  all 
safe,  and  neither  himself  nor  any  of  his  adherents  shall  have 
a  head  on  their  shoulders  by  this  day  week." 

Neither  superscription,  name,  nor  date  was  to  this  letter, 
but  Wallace  immediately  knew  the  handwriting  to  be  that  of 
Lord  March.  "Then  we  must  have  traitors  even  within 
these  walls !  "  exclaimed  Mar ;  "  none  but  the  most  powerful 
chiefs  would  the  proud  Cospatrick  admit  into  his  conspiracies. 
And  what  are  we  to  do  ?  for  by  to-morrow's  evening  the  army 


64  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

this  traitor  has  let  into  the  heart  of  the  country  will  be  at  our 
gates. 

"  No  ! "  cried  Wallace ;  "  thanks  to  God  and  this  guardian 
angel/7  fervently  clasping  Helen's  hand  as  he  spoke,  "we 
must  not  be  intimidated  by  treachery !  Let  us  but  be  faithful 
to  ourselves,  my  veteran  friend,  and  all  will  go  well.  It  mat- 
ters not  who  the  other  traitors  are,  they  must  soon  discover 
themselves,  and  shall  find  us  prepared  to  counteract  their 
machinations.  Sound  your  bugles,  my  lord,  to  summon  the 
heads  of  our  council." 

At  this  command  Helen  arose,  but  replaced  herself  in  her 
chair  on  Wallace  exclaiming,  "  Stay,  Lady  Helen ;  let  the 
sight  of  such  virgin  delicacy,  braving  the  terrors  of  the  night 
to  warn  betrayed  Scotland,  nerve  every  heart  with  redoubled 
courage  to  breast  this  insidious  foe  !  "  Helen  did  indeed  feel 
her  soul  awake  to  all  its  ancient  patriotic  enthusiasm,  and 
thus,  with  a  countenance  pale,  but  resplendent  with  the  light 
of  her  thoughts,  she  sat  the  angel  of  her  heroic  inspiration. 
Wallace  often  turned  to  look  on.  her,  while  her  eyes,  uncon- 
scious of  the  adoring  admiration  which  spoke  in  their  beams, 
followed  his  god-like  figure,  as  it  moved  through  the  room  with 
a  step  that  declared  the  undisturbed  determination  of  his  soul. 

The  Lords  Bothwell,  Loch-awe,  and  Badenoch  were  the  first 
that  obeyed  the  call.  They  started  at  sight  of  Helen,  but 
Wallace  in  a  few  words  related  the  cause  of  her  appearance, 
and  the  portentous  letter  was  laid  before  them.  All  were 
acquainted  with  the  handwriting  of  Lord  March,  and  all 
agreed  in  attributing  to  its  real  motive  his  last  solicitude  to 
obtain  the  command  of  the  Lothians.  "  What,"  cried  Both- 
well,  "  but  to  open  his  castle-gates  to  the  enemy !  " 

"And  to  repel  him  before  he  reaches  ours,  my  brave  chiefs," 
replied  Wallace,  "I  have  summoned  you.  Edward  will  not 
make  this  attempt  without  tremendous  powers.  He  knows 
what  he  risks :  his.  men,  his  life,  and  his  honor.  We  must 
therefore  expect  a  resolution  in  him  adequate  to  such  an  enter- 
prise. Lose  not,  then,  a  moment ;  even  to-night,  this  instant, 
go  out  and  bring  in  your  followers.  I  will  call  up  mine  from 
the  banks  of  the  Clyde,  and  be  ready  to  meet  him  ere  he 
crosses  the  Carron." 

While  he  gave  these  orders  other  nobles  thronged  in ;  and 
Helen,  being  severally  thanked  by  them  all,  became  so  agitated, 
that,  stretching  out  her  hands  to  Wallace,  who  was  nearest  to 
her,  she  softly  whispered,  "  Take  me  hence."  He  read  in  her 
blushing  face  the  oppression  her  modesty  sustained  in  such  a 


FALKIRK.  65 

scene,  and  with  faltering  steps  she  leaned  upon  his  arm  as 
he  conducted  her  to  an  interior  chamber.  Overcome  by  her 
former  fears  and  the  emotions  of  the  last  hour,  she  sunk  into 
a  chair  and  burst  into  tears.  Wallace  stood  near  her,  and  as 
he  looked  on  her  he  thought,  "  If  aught  on  earth  ever  re- 
sembled the  beloved  of  my  soul,  it  is  Helen  Mar ! "  And  all 
the  tenderness  which  memory  gave  to  his  almost  adored  wife, 
and  all  the  grateful  complacency  with  which  he  regarded 
Helen,  beamed  at  once  from  his  eyes.  She  raised  her  head, 
she  felt  that  look  ;  it  thrilled  to  her  soul.  For  a  moment  every 
former  thought  seemed  lost  in  the  one  perception,  that  he  then 
gazed  on  her  as  he  had  never  looked  on  any  woman  since  his 
Marion.  Was  she  then  beloved  ? 

The  impression  was  evanescent.  "  No,  no  ! "  said  she  to  her- 
self ;  and  waving  her  hand  gently  to  him  with  her  head  bent 
v  down,  "  Leave  me,  Sir  William  Wallace.  Forgive  me,  but  I 
am  exhausted ;  my  frame  is  weaker  than  my  mind."  She 
spoke  this  at  intervals,  and  Wallace  respectfully  touching  the 
hand  she  extended,  pressed  it  to  his  breast.  "  I  obey  you,  dear 
Lady  Helen,  and  when  next  we  meet,  it  will,  I  hope,  be  to  dis- 
pel every  fear  in  that  gentle  bosom."  She  bowed  her  head 
without  looking  up,  and  Wallace  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  LIIL 

FALKIRK. 

BEFORE  the  sun  rose  every  brave  Scot  within  a  few  hours' 
march  of  Stirling  was  on  the  carse,  and  Lord  Andrew  Murray, 
with  his  veteran  Clydesdale  men,  were  already  resting  on  their 
arms  in  view  of  the  city  walls.  The  messengers  of  Wallace 
had  hastened  with  the  speed  of  the  winds  east  and  west,  and 
the  noon  of  the  day  saw  him  at  the  head  of  thirty  thousand 
men,  determined  to  fight  or  to  die  for  their  country. 

The  surrounding  landscape  shone  in  the  brightness  of  mid- 
summer, for  it  was  the  eve  of  St.  Magdalen,  and  sky  and 
earth  bore  witness  to  the  luxuriant  month  of  July.  The 
heavens  were  clear,  the  waters  of  the  Forth  danced  in  the  sun- 
beams, and  the  flower-enamelled  green  of  the  extended  plain 
stretched  its  beautiful  borders  to  the  deepening  woods.  All 
nature  smiled;  all  seemed  in  harmony  and  peace  but  the 

VOL.  H.  —  5 


66  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

breast  of  man.  He  who  was  made  lord  of  this  paradise  awoke 
to  disturb  its  repose,  to  disfigure  its  loveliness.  As  the  throng- 
ing legions  poured  upon  the  plain,  the  sheep  which  had  been 
feeding  there  fled  scared  to  the  hills ;  the  plover  and  heath- 
fowl  which  nestled  in  the  brakes  rose  affrighted  from  their  in- 
fant broods,  and  flew  in  screaming  multitudes  far  over  the 
receding  valleys.  The  peace  of  Scotland  was  again  broken,  and 
its  flocks  and  herds  were  to  share  its  misery. 

When  the  conspiring  lords  appeared  on  the  carse,  and  Mar 
communicated  to  them  the  lately  discovered  treason,  they  so 
well  affected  surprise  at  the  contents  of  the  scroll,  that  Wal- 
lace might  not  have  suspected  their  connection  with  it  had  not 
Lord  Athol  declared  it  altogether  a  forgery  of  some  wanton 
persons,  and  then  added  with  bitterness,  ."  To  gather  an  army 
on  such  authority  is  ridiculous."  While  he  spoke  Wallace  re- 
garded him  with  a  look  which  pierced  him  to  the  centre,  and 
the  blood  rushing  into  his  guilty  heart,  for  once  in  his  life  he 
trembled  before  the  eye  of  man.  "  Whoever  be  the  degenerate 
Scot  to  whom  this  writing  is  addressed,"  said  Wallace,  "  his 
baseness  cannot  betray  us  further.  The  troops  of  Scotland  are 
ready  to  meet  the  enemy ;  and  woe  to  the  man  who  that  day 
deserts  his  country  ! "  —  "  Amen  !  "  cried  Lord  Mar.  "  Amen  !" 
sounded  from  every  lip ;  for  when  the  conscience  embraces 
treason  against  its  earthly  rulers,  allegiance  to  its  heavenly 
King  is  abandoned  with  ease,  and  the  words  and  oaths  of  the 
traitor  are  equally  unsuitable. 

Badenoch's  eye  followed  that  of  Wallace,  and  his  suspicions 
fixed  where  the  regent's  fell.  For  the  honor  of  his  blood  he 
forbore  to  accuse  the  earl,  but  for  the  same  reason  he  deter- 
mined to  watch  his  proceedings.  However,  the  hypocrisy  of 
Athol  baffled  even  the  penetration  of  his  brother ;  and  on  his 
retiring  from  the  ground  to  call  forth  his  men  for  the  expedi- 
tion, in  an  affected  chafe  he  complained  to  Badenoch  of  the 
stigma  cast  upon  their  house  by  the  regent's  implied  charge. 
"  But,"  said  he,  "  he  shall  see  the  honor  of  the  Cummin  em- 
blazoned in  blood  on  the  sands  of  the  Forth.  His  towering 
pride  heeds  not  where  it  strikes,  and  this  comes  of  raising  men 
of  low  estate  to  rule  over  princes."  — ll  His  birth  is  noble,  if  not 
royal,"  replied  Badenoch ;  "  and  before  this  the  posterity  of 
kings  have  not  disdained  to  recover  their  rights  by  the  sword 
of  a  brave  subject." —  "  True,"  answered  Athol,  "  but  is  it  cus- 
tomary for  princes  to  allow  that  subject  to  sit  on  their  throne  ? 
It  is  nonsense  to  talk  of  Wallace  having  refused  a  coronation. 
He  laughs  at  the  name,  but  see  you  not  that  he  openly  affects 


FALKIRK.  67 

supreme  power,  that  he  rules  the  nobles  of  the  land  like  a 
despot  ?  His  word,  his  nod,  is  sufficient,  —  Go  here,  go  there  ! 
—  as  if  he  was  absolute  and  there  was  no  voice  in  Scotland  but 
his  own.  Look  at  the  brave  Mac  Callan-more,1  the  lord  of 
the  west  of  Scotland  from  sea  to  sea ;  he  stands  unbonneted 
before  this  mighty  Wallace,  with  a  more  abject  homage  than 
ever  he  paid  to  the  House  of  Alexander.  Can  you  behold  this. 
Lord  Badenoch,  and  not  find  the  royal  blood  of  your  descent 
boil  in  your  veins  ?  Does  not  every  look  of  your  wife,2  the 
sister  of  a  king,  and  your  own  right  stamped  upon  your  soul, 
reproach  you  ?  He  is  greater  by  your  strength.  Humble  him, 
my  brother ;  be  faithful  to  Scotland,  but  humble  its  proud  dic- 
tator ! " 

Lord  Badenoch  replied  to  this  rough  exhortation  with  the 
tranquillity  belonging  to  his  nature.  "  I  see  not  the  least  foun- 
dations for  any  of  your  charges  against  Sir  William  Wallace. 
He  has  delivered  Scotland,  and  the  people  are  grateful.  The 
nation  with  one  voice  made  him  their  regent,  and  he  fulfils 
the  duties  of  his  office,  but  with  a  modesty,  Lord  Athol,  which 
I  must  affirm  I  never  saw  equalled.  I  dissent  from  you  in  all 
that  you  have  said,  and,  I  confess,  I  did  fear  the  blandishing 
arguments  of  the  faithless  Cospatrick  had  persuaded  you  to 
embrace  his  pernicious  treason.  You  deny  it ;  that  is  well. 
Prove  your  innocence  at  this  juncture  in  the  field  against  Scot- 
land's enemies,  and  John  of  Badenoch  will  then  see  no  impend- 
ing cloud  to  darken  the  honor  of  the  name  of  Cummin." 

The  brothers  immediately  separated  ;  and  Athol  calling  his 
cousin  Buchan,  arranged  a  new  device  to  counteract  the  vigi- 
lance of  the  regent.  One  of  their  means  was  to  baffle  his  meas- 
ures by  stimulating  the  less  treasonable,  but  yet  discontented, 
chiefs  to  thwart  him  in  every  motion.  At  the  head  of  this 
last  class  was  John  Stewart,  Earl  of  Bute.  During  the  whole 
of  the  preceding  year  he  had  been  in  Norway,  and  the  first 
object  he  met  on  his  return  to  Scotland  was  the  triumphal 
entry  of  Wallace  into  Stirling.  Aware  of  the  consequence 
Stewart's  name  would  attach  to  any  cause,  Athol  had  gained 
his  ear  before  he  was  introduced  to  the  regent ;  and  then  so 
poisoned  his  mind  against  Wallace  that  all  that  was  well  in 
him  he  deemed  ill,  and  ever  spoke  of  his  bravery  with  cold- 

JSir  Colin  Campbell,  surnamed  More  (Great),  from  his  extraordinary  valor,  was  the 
father  of  Neill  Campbell,  Lord  of  Loch-awe;  and  in  memory  of  his  renown,  the  head  or 
chief  of  his  family  for  ages  after  was  distinguished  by  the  title  of  Mac  Callan-more, , 
which  means  ,S'on  of  the  Great  Colin. 

2  John  Cummin,  Lord  of  Badenoch  (usually  called  the  Black  Cummin),  married  Mar- 
jory,  sister  to  Buliol,  King  of  Scots.  In  the  year  1290  Lord  Badenoch  was  one  of  the 
competitors  for  the  crown,  as  beir,  in  the  seventh  generation,  from  Donald,  King  of  Scots. 


68  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

ness,  and  of  his  patriotism  with  disgust.      He  believed  him  a 
hypocrite,  and  as  such  despised  and  abhorred  him. 

While  Athol  marshalled  his  rebellious  ranks,  some  to  follow 
his  broad  treason  in  the  face  of  day,  and  others  to  lurk  be- 
hind and  delude  the  intrusted  council  left  in  Stirling,  Wallace 
led  forth  his  royal  chiefs  to  take  their  stations  at  the  heads  of 
their  different  clans.  Sir  Alexander  Scrymgeour,  with  the 
proudest  expectations  for  Scotland,  unfurled  his  golden  stand 
ard  to  the  sun.  The  Lords  Loch-awe  and  Bothwell,  with 
others,  rode  on  to  the  right  of  the  regent.  Lord  Andrew 
Murray,  with  the  brave  Sir  John  Graham,  and  a  bevy  of 
young  knights,  kept  the  ground  on  his  left.  Wallace  looked 
around ;  Edwin  was  far  away,  and  he  felt  but  half-appointed 
when  wanting  his  youthful  sword-bearer.  That  faithful  friend 
did  not  even  know  of  the  threatened  hostility ;  for  to  have 
intimated  to  Lord  Ruthven  a  danger  he  could  not  assist  to 
repel  would  have  inflamed  his  disorder  by  anxiety,  and  per- 
haps hurried  him  to  dissolution. 

As  the  regent  moved  forward  with  these  private  affections 
checkering  his  public  cares,  his  heralds  blew  the  trumpets  of 
his  approach,  and  a  hundred  embattled  clans  appeared  in  the 
midst  of  the  plain  awaiting  their  valiant  leaders.  Each  chief 
advanced  to  the  head  of  his  line  and  stood  to  hear  the  charge 
of  Wallace. 

"  Brave  Scots ! "  cried  he,  "  Treachery  has  admitted  the 
enemy  whom  resolute  Patriotism  had  driven  from  our  borders. 
Be  steady  in  your  fidelity  to  Scotland,  and  He  who  hath 
hitherto  protected  the  just  cause  will  nerve  your  arms  to  lay 
invasion  and  its  base  coadjutors  again  in  the  dust ! " 

The  cheers  of  anticipated  victory  burst  from  the  soldiers, 
mingled  with  the  clangor  of  their  striking  shields  at  the 
inspiring  voice  of  their  leader.  Wallace  waved  his  truncheon 
(round  which  the  plan  of  his  array  wa^  wrapped)  to  the 
chiefs  to  fall  back  towards  their  legions,  and  while  some 
appeared  to  linger,  Atliol,  armed  cap-a-pie,  and  spurring  his 
roan  into  the  area  before  the  regent,  demanded  in  a  haughty 
tone,  "  Which  of  the  chiefs  now  in  the  field  is  to  lead  the 
vanguard  ?  " 

"  The  regent  of  Scotland,"  replied  Wallace,  for  once  assert- 
ing the  majesty  of  his  station ;  "  and  you,  Lord  Athol,  with 
the  Lord  Buehan,  are  to  defend  your  country,  under  the 
command  of  the  brave  head  of  your  house,  the  Prince 
Badenoch." 

"  I  stir  not  from  this  spot."  returned  Athol,  fiercely  striking 


FALKIRK.  69 

his  lance  into  its  rest,  "  till  I  see  tlie  honor  of  my  country 
established  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  by  a  leader  worthy  of  her 
rank  being  placed  in  her  vanguard." 

"  What  he  says,"  cried  Buchan,  "  I  second."  "  And  in.  the 
same  spirit,  chieftain  of  Ellerslie,"  exclaimed  Lord  Bute,  "  do 
I  offer  to  Scotland  myself  and  my  people.  Another  must  lead 
the  van,  or  I  retire  from  her  standard." 

"  Speak  on ! "  cried  Wallace,  more  surprised  than  con* 
founded  by  this  extraordinary  attack. 

"  What  these  illustrious  chiefs  have  uttered  is  the  voice  of 
us  all ! "  was  the  general  exclamation  from  a  band  of  warriors 
who  now  thronged  around  the  incendiary  nobles. 

"  Your  reign  is  over,  proud  chieftain  ! "  rejoined  Athol;  "  the 
Scottish  ranks  are  no  longer  to  be  cajoled  by  your  affected 
moderation.  We  see  the  tyrant  in  your  insidious  smile,  we 
feel  him  in  the  despotism  of  your  decrees.  To  be  thus  ridden 
by  a  man  of  vulgar  blood,  to  present  him  as  the  head  of  our 
nation  to  the  King  of  England,  is  beneath  the  dignity  of  our 
country,  is  an  insult  to  our  nobles,  and  therefore  in  the  power 
of  her  consequence  I  speak,  and  again  demand  of  you  to  yield 
the  vanguard  to  one  more  worthy  of  the  station.  Before  God 
and  St.  Magdalen  I  swear,"  added  he,  holding  up  his  sword  to 
the  heavens,  "  I  will  not  stir  an  inch  this  day  towards  the 
enemy  unless  a  Cummin  or  a  Stewart  leads  our  army ! " 

"  And  is  this  your  resolution  also,  Lord  Bute  ?  "  said  Wal- 
lace, looking  on  Stewart. 

"  It  is,"  was  the  reply ;  "  a  foe  like  Edward  ought  to  be  met 
as  becomes  a  great  and  independent  kingdom.  We  go  in  the 
array  of  a  unanimous  nation  to  repel  him,  not  as  a  band  of 
insurgents  headed  by  a  general  who,  however  .brave,  was  yet 
drawn  from  the  common  ranks  of  the  people.  I  therefore  de- 
mand to  follow  a  more  illustrious  leader  to  the  field." 

"  The  eagles  have  long  enough  followed  their  owl  in  pea- 
cock's feathers,"  cried  Buchan,  "  and  being  tired  of  the  game, 
I,  like  the  rest,  soar  upward  again." 

"  Resign  that  baton  ! "  cried  Athol.  "  Give  place  to  a  more 
honorable  leader,"  repeated  he,  supposing  that  he  had  intimi- 
dated Wallace ;  but  Wallace,  raising  the  visor  of  his  helmet, 
which  he  had  closed  on  his  last  commands  to  his  generals, 
looked  on  Athol  with  all  the  majesty  of  his  truly  royal  soul  in 
his  eyes.  u  Earl,"  said  he,  "  the  voices  of  the  three  estates  of 
Scotland  declared  me  their  regent,  and  God  ratified  the  elec- 
tion by  the  victories  with  which  he  crowned  me.  If  in  aught 
I  have  betrayed  my  trust,  let  the  powers  which  raised  me  be 


70  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

my  accusers.  Four  pitched  battles  have  I  fought,  and  gained, 
for  this  country.  Twice  I  beat  the  representatives  of  King 
Edward  on  the  plains  of  Scotland,  and  a  few  months  ago  I 
made  him  fly  before  me  over  the  fields  of  Northumberland. 
What,  then,  has  befallen  me  that  my  arm  is  to  be  too  short  to 
meet  this  man  ?  Has  the  oil  of  the  Lord  with  which  the  saint 
of  Dunkeld  anointed  my  brows  lost  its  virtue,  that  I  should 
shrink  before  any  king  in  Christendom  ?  I  neither  tremble  at 
the  name  of  Edward,  nor  will  I  so  disgrace  my  own  (which 
never  man  who  bore  it  ever  degraded  by  swearing  fealty  to  a 
foreign  prince  !)  as  to  abandon  at  such  a  crisis  the  power  with 
which  Scotland  has  invested  me.  Whoever  chooses  to  leave 
the  cause  of  their  country,  let  them  go,  and  so  manifest  them- 
selves of  noble  blood !  I  remain,  and  I  lead  the  vanguard. 
Scotsmen,  to  your  duty ! " 

As  he  spoke  with  a  voice  of  unanswerable  command,  several 
chiefs  fell  back  into  their  ranks.  But  some  made  a  retrograde 
motion  towards  the  town.  Lord  Bute  hardly  knew  what  to 
think,  so  was  he  startled  by  the  appeal  of  the  accused .  regent 
and  the  noble  frankness  with  which  he  maintained  his  rights. 
He  stood  frowning  as  Wallace  turned  to  him  and  said,  "  Do 
you,  my  lord,  adhere  to  these  violent  men  ?  or  am  I  to  consider 
a  chief  who,  though  hostile  to  me,  was  generous  in  his  ire, 
still  faithful  to  Scotland  in  spite  of  his  prejudice  against  her 
leader  ?  Will  you  fight  her  battles  ?  " 

"  I  shall  never  desert  them,"  replied  Stewart ;  "  't  is  truth  I 
seek ;  therefore  be  it  to  you,  Wallace,  this  day  according  to 
your  conscience."  Wallace  bowed  his  head  and  presented 
him  the  truncheon,  round  which  his  line  of  battle  was 
wrapped.  On  opening  it,  he  found  that  he  was  appointed  to 
command  the  third  division,  Badenoch  and  Bothwell  to  the 
first  and  second,  and  Wallace  himself  to  the  vanguard. 

When  the  scouts  arrived  they  informed  the  regent  that  the 
English  army  had  advanced  near  to  the  boundary  of  Linlith- 
gow,  and,  from  the  rapidity  of  their  march,  must  be  on  the 
Carron  the  same  evening.  On  this  intelligence  Wallace  put 
his  troops  to  their  speed,  and  before  the  sun  had  declined  far 
towards  the  west  he  was  within  view  of  Falkirk.  But  just  as 
he  had  crossed  the  Carron,  and  the  Southron  banners  appeared 
in  sight,  Lord  Athol,  at  the  head  of  his  rebellious  colleagues, 
rode  up  to  him.  Stewart  kept  his  appointed  station,  and 
Badenoch,  doing  the  same,  ashamed  of  his  brother's  disorder, 
called  after  him  to  keep  his  line.  Regardless  of  all  check,  the 
obstinate  chief  galloped  on,  and,  extending  his  bold  accomplices 


FALKIRK.  71 

across  the  path  of  the  regent,  demanded  of  him,  on  the  pen- 
alty of  his  life,  "  that  moment  to  relinquish  his  pretensions  to 
the  vanguard." 

"  I  am  not  come  here,"  replied  Wallace,  indignantly,  "  to 
betray  my  country.  I  know  you,  Lord  Athol,  and  your  con- 
duct and  mine  will  this  day  prove  who  is  most  worthy  the 
confidence  of  Scotland."  —  "  This  day,"  cried  Athol,  "  shall  see 
you  lay  down  the  power  you  have  usurped."  —  "  It  shall  see  me 
maintain  it  to  your  confusion,"  replied  Wallace;  "and  were 
you  not  surrounded  by  Scots  of  too  tried  a  worth  for  me  to 
suspect  their  being  influenced  by  your  rebellious  example,  I 
would  this  moment  make  you  feel  the  arm  of  justice.  But  the 
foe  is  in  sight;  do  your  duty  now,  sir  earl,  and  for  the 
sake  of  the  house  to  which  you  belong  even  this  intemperate 
conduct  shall  be  forgotten."  At  this  instant  Sir  John 
Graham,  hastening  forward,  exclaimed,  "The  Southrons  are 
bearing  down  upon  us  !  "  Athol  glanced  at  their  distant  host, 
and  turning  on  Wallace  with  a  sarcastic  smile,  "  My  actions," 
cried  he,  "  shall  indeed  decide  the  day,"  and  striking  his  spurs 
furiously  into  his  horse  he  rejoined  Lord  Badenoch's  legion. 

Edward  did  indeed  advance  in  most  terrible  array.  Above 
a  hundred  thousand  men  swelled  his  numerous  ranks,  and 
with  these  were  united  all  from  the  Lothians  and  Teviotdale 
whom  the  influence  of  the  faithless  March  and  the  vindictive 
Soulis  could  bring  into  the  field.  With  this  augmented  host 
and  a  determination  to  conquer  or  to  die,  the  Southrons 
marched  rapidly  forward. 

Wallace  had  drawn  himself  up  on  the  ascent  of  the  hill  of 
Falkirk,  and  advantageously  planted  his  archers  on  a  covering 
eminence  flanked  by  the  legions  of  Badenoch.  Lord  Athol, 
who  knew  the  integrity  of  his  brother,  and  who  cared  not  in 
so  great  a  cause  (for  such  his  ambition  termed  it)  how  he  re- 
moved an  adversary  fron\  Edward  and  a  censor  from  himself, 
gave  a  ridding  order  to  one  of  his  emissaries.  Accordingly,  in 
the  moment  when  the  trumpet  of  Wallace  sounded  the  charge 
and  the  arrows  from  the  hill  darkened  the  air,  the  virtuous 
Badenoch  was  stabbed  through  the  back  to  the  very  heart. 
Athol  had  placed  himself  near  to  watch  his  purpose ;  but  in 
the  instant  the  deed  was  done  he  threw  himself  on  the  perpe- 
trator, and,  wounding  him  in  the  same  vital  part,  exclaimed, 
holding  up  his  dagger,  "  Behold  the  weapon  that  has  slain  the 
assassin  hired  by  Sir  William  Wallace  !  Thus  it  is  that  his 
ambition  would  rob  Scotland  of  her  native  princes.  Let  us  fly 
from  his  steel  to  the  shield  of  a  king  and  a  hero." 


72  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

The  men  had  seen  their  leader  fall ;  they  doubted  not  the 
words  of  his  brother,  and  with  a  shout,  exclaiming,  "Whither 
you  lead,  we  follow  !  "  all  at  once  turned  towards  him.  "  Seize 
the  traitor's  artillery  !"  At  this  command  they  mounted  the 
hill,  and  the  archers,  little  expecting  an  assault  from  their 
countrymen,  were  either  instantly  cut  down  or  hurried  away 
prisoners  by  Athol  and  Buchan,  who,  now  at  the  head  of  the 
whole  division  of  the  Cummins,  galloped  towards  the  South- 
rons, and  with  loud  cries  of  "  Long  live  King  Edward  ! 7>  threw 
themselves  en  masse  into  their  arms.  The  squadrons  which 
followed  Stewart,  not  knowing  but  they  might  be  hurried 
into  similar  desertion,  hesitated  in  the  charge  he  had  com- 
manded them  to  make ;  and  while  thus  undecisive,  some 
obeyed  in  broken  ranks  and  others  lingered,  the  enemy 
advanced  briskly  up,  surrounded  the  division,  and  on  the  first 
onset  slew  its  leader.  His  faithful  Brandanes,1  seeing  their 
beloved  commander  trampled  to  the  earth  by  an  overwhelming 
foe,  fell  into  confusion,  and,  communicating  their  dismay  to 
their  comrades,  the  whole  division  sank  under  the  shock  of  the 
Southrons  as  if  touched  by  a  spell.  Meanwhile  Bothwell 
and  his  legions  were  fiercely  engaged  with  the  Earl  of  Lincoln 
amid  the  swamps  of  a  deep  morass,  but  being  involved 
by  reciprocal  impetuosity,  equal  peril  ingulfed  them  both. 
The  firm  battalion  of  the  vanguard  alone  remaining  unbroken, 
stood  before  the  pressing  and  now  victorious  thousands  of 
Edward  without  receding  a  step.  The  archers  being  lost  by 
the  treachery  of  the  Cummins,  all  hope  lay  on  the  strength 
of  the  spear  and  sword ;  and  Wallace,  standing  immovable  as 
the  rock  of  Stirling,  saw  rank  after  rank  of  his  dauntless  in- 
fantry mowed  down  by  the  Southron  arrows,  while  fast  as  they 
fell  their  comrades  closed  over  them,  and  still  presented  the 
same  impenetrable  front  of  steady  valor  against  the  heavy 
charges  of  the  enemy's  horse.  The  IJing  of  England,  indignant 
at  this  pause  in  his  conquering  onset,  accompanied  by  his 
natural  brother,  the  valiant  Frere  de  Briagny,  and  a  squadron 
of  resolute  knights,  in  fury  threw  themselves  towards  the 
Scottish  pikemen.  Wallace  descried  the  jewelled  crest  of 
Edward  amidst  the  cloud  of  battle  there,  and  rushing  forward 
hand  to  hand  engaged  the  king.  Edward  knew  his  adversary, 
not  so  much  by  his  snow-white  plume  as  by  the  prowess  of 
his  arm.  Twice  did  the  heavy  claymore  of  Wallace  strike  fire 
from  the  steely  helmet  of  the  monarch,  but  at  the  third  stroke 

1  Brandanes  was  the  distinguishing  appellation  of  the  military  followers  of  the  chiefs 
of  Bute. 


FALKIRK.  73 

the  glittering  diadem  fell  in  shivers  to  the  ground,  and  the 
royal  blood  of  Edward  followed  the  blow.  He  reeled  —  and 
another  stroke  would  have  settled  the  freedom  of  Scotland  for- 
ever had  not  the  strong  arm  of  Frere  de  Briagny  passed  between 
Wallace  and  the  king.  The  combat  thickened ;  blow  followed 
blow,  blood  gushed  at  each  fall  of  the  sword,  and  the  hacked 
armor  showed  in  every  aperture  a  grisly  wound.  A  hundred 
weapons  seemed  directed  against  the  breast  of  the  regent  of 
Scotland,  when  raising  his  sword,  with  a  determined  stroke  it 
cleft  the  visor  and  crest  of  De  Briagny,  who  fell  lifeless  to  the 
ground.  The  cry  that  issued  from  the  Southron  troops  at  this 
sight  again  nerved  the  vengeful  Edward,  and  ordering  the  signal 
for  his  reserve  to  advance,  he  renewed  the  attack,  and  assaulting 
Wallace  with  all  the  fury  of  his  heart  in  his  eyes  and  arms, 
he  tore  the  earth  with  the  trampling  of  disappointed  ven- 
geance when  he  found  the  invincible  phalanx  still  stood  firm. 
u  I  will  reach  him  yet ! "  cried  he,  and  turning  to  De  Valence, 
he  commanded  that  the  new  artillery  should  be  called  into  action. 
On  this  order,  a  blast  of  trumpets  in  the  Southron  army  blew,  and 
the  answering  war-wolves  it  had  summoned  sent  forth  showers 
of  red-hot  "stones  into  the  midst  of  the  Scottish  battalions. 
At  the  same  moment  the  English  reserve,  charging  round  the 
hill,  attacked  them  in  flank,  and  accomplished  what  the  fiery 
torrent  had  begun.  The  field  was  heaped  with  dead;  the 
brooks  which  flowed  down  the  heights  ran  with  blood;  but 
no  confusion  was  there  —  no,  not  even  in  the  mind  of  Wallace, 
though,  with  amazement  and  horror,  he  beheld  the  saltire  of 
Annandale,  the  banner  of  Bruce,  leading  onward  the  last  exter- 
minating division.  Scot  now  contended  with  Scot,  brother  with 
brother.  Those  valiant  spirits,  who  had  left  their  country 
twenty  years  before  to  accompany  their  chief  to  the  Holy  Land, 
now  reentered  Scotland,  to  wound  her  in  her  vital  part,  to 
wrest  from  her  her  liberties,  to  make  her  mourn  in  ashes  that 
she  had  been  the  mother  of  such  matricides.  A  horrid  min- 
gling of  tartans  with  tartans,  in  the  direful  grasp  of  reciprocal 
death,  a  tremendous  rushing  of  the  flaming  artillery,  which 
swept  the  Scottish  ranks  like  blasting  lightning,  for  a  moment 
seemed  to  make  the  reason  of  their  leader  stagger.  Arrows 
winged  with  fire  flashed  through  the  air,  and,  sticking  in  men 
and  beasts,  drove  them  against  each  other  in  maddening  pain. 
Twice  was  the  horse  of  Wallace  shot  under  him,  and  on  every 
side  were  his  closest  friends  wounded  and  dispersed.  But  his 
terrific  horror  at  the  scene  passed  away  in  the  moment  of  its 
perception,  and  though  the  Southron  and  the  Bruce  pressed 


74  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

on  him  in  overwhelming  numbers,  his  few  remaining  ranks 
obeyed  his  call,  and  with  a  presence  of  mind,  and  military 
skill  that  was  exhaustless,  he  maintained  the  fight  till  dark- 
ness parted  the  combatants.  When  Edward  gave  command 
for  his  troops  to  rest  till  morning,  Wallace,  with  the  remnant 
of  his  faithful  band,  slowly  recrossed  the  Carron,  that  they 
also  might  repose  till  dawn  should  renew  the  conflict. 

Lonely  was  the  sound  of  his  bugle,  as  sitting  on  a  fragment 
of  the  druidical  ruins  of  Dunipacis  he  blew  its  melancholy 
blast  to  summon  his  chiefs  around  him.  Its  penetrating 
voice  pierced  the  hills ;  but  no  answering  note  came  upon  his 
ear.  A  direful  conviction  seized  upon  his  heart.  But  they 
might  have  fled  far  distant ;  he  blushed  as  the  thought  crossed 
him,  and  hopeless  again,  dropped  the  horn,  which  he  had 
raised  to  blow  a  second  summons.  At  this  instant  he  saw  a 
shadow  darken  the  moonlight  ruins,  and  Scrymgeour,  who 
had  gladly  heard  his  commander's  bugle,  hastened  forward. 

"What  has  been  the  fate  of  this  dismal  day?"  asked 
Wallace,  looking  onward,  as  if  he  expected  others  to  come  up. 
"  Where  are  my  friends  ?  Where  Graham,  Badenoch,  and 
Bothwell?  Where  all,  brave  Scrymgeour,  that  I  do  not  now 
see  ?  "  He  rose  from  his  seat  at  sight  of  an  advancing  group. 
It  approached  near,  and  laid  the  dead  body  of  a  warrior  down 
before  him.  "  Thus,"  cried  one  of  the  supporters  in  stifled 
sounds,  "  has  my  father  proved  his  love  for  Scotland ! "  It 
was  Murray  who  spoke ;  it  was  the  Earl  of  Bothwell  that  lay 
a  breathless  corpse  at  his  feet. 

"Grievous  has  been  the  havoc  of  Scot  on  Scot!"  cried  the 
intrepid  Graham,  who  had  seconded  the  arm  of  Murray  in  the 
contest  for  his  father's  body.  "  Your  steadiness,  Sir  William 
Wallace,  would  have  retrieved  the  day  but  for  the  murderer 
of  his  country ;  that  Bruce,  for  whom  you  refused  to  be  our 
king,  thus  destroys  her  bravest  sons.  Their  blood  be  on  his 
head  ! "  continued  the  young  chief,  extending  his  martial  arms 
towards  heaven.  "  Power  of  Justice,  hear,  and  let  his  days  be 
troubled  and  his  death  covered  with  dishonor ! " 

"  My  brave  friend  ! "  replied  Wallace,  "  his  deeds  will  avenge 
themselves ;  he  needs  not  further  malediction.  Let  us  rather 
bless  the  remains  of  him  who  is  gone  before  us,  thus  in  glory, 
to  his  heavenly  rest.  Ah,  better  is  it  thus  to  be  laid  in  the 
bed  of  honor,  than,  by  surviving,  witness  the  calamities  which 
the  double  treason  of  this  day  will  bring  upon  our  martyred 
country !  Murray,  my  friend  !  "  cried  he  to  Lord  Andrew, 
"we  must  not  let  the  brave  dead  perish  in  vain.  Their 


FALKIRK.  75 

monument  shall  yet  be  Scotland's  liberties.  Fear  not  that 
we  are  forsaken  because  of  these  traitors  ;  but  remember,  our 
time  is  in  the  hand  of  the  God  of  justice  and  of  mercy  !  " 

Tears  were  coursing  each  other  in  mute  woe  down  the 
cheeks  of  the  affectionate  son.  He  could  not  for  some  time 
answer  Wallace,  but  he  grasped  his  hand,  and  at  last  rapidly 
articulated :  "  Others  may  have  fallen,  but  not  mortally  like  him. 
Life  may  yet  be  preserved  in  some  of  our  brave  companions- 
Leave  me,  then,  to  mourn"  my  dead  alone,  and  seek  ye  them." 

Wallace  saw  that  filial  tenderness  yearned  for  the  moment 
when  it  might  unburden  its  grief  unchecked  by  observation. 
He  arose,  and  making  a  sign  to  his  friends,  withdrew  towards 
his  men.  Having  sent  a  detachment  to  guard  the  sacred 
enclosure  of  Dunipacis,  he  despatched  Graham  on  the  danger- 
ous duty  of  gathering  a  reinforcement  for  the  morning.  Then 
sending  Scrymgeour,  with  a  resolute  band,  across  the  Carron, 
to  bring  in  the  wounded  (for  Edward  had  encamped  his  army 
about  a  mile  south  of  the  field  of  action),  he  took  his  lonely 
course  along  the  northern  bank  towards  a  shallow  ford,  near 
which  he  supposed  the  squadrons  of  Lord  Loch-awe  must  have 
fought,  and  where  he  hoped  to  gain  accounts  of  him  from  some 
straggling  survivor  of  his  clan.  When  he  arrived  at  a  point 
where  the  river  is  narrowest,  and  winds  its  dark  stream 
beneath  impending  heights,  he  blew  the  Campbell  pibroch.  The 
notes  reverberated  from  rock  to  rock ;  but,  unanswered,  died 
away  in  distant  echoes.  Still  he  would  not  relinquish  hope, 
and  pursuing  the  path  emerged  on  an  open  glade.  The  unob- 
structed rays  of  the  moon  illumined  every  object.  Across  the 
river,  at  some  distance  from  the  bank,  a  division  of  the  South- 
ron tents  whitened  the  deep  shadows  of  the  bordering  woods, 
and  before  them,  on  the  blood-stained  plain,  he  thought  he 
descried  a  solitary  warrior.  Wallace  stopped.  The  man 
approached  the  margin  of  the  stream  and  looked  towards  the 
Scottish  chief.  The  visor  of  Wallace  being  up,  discovered  his 
heroic  countenance  bright  in  the  moonbeams,  and  the  majesty 
of  his  mien  seemed  to  declare  him  to  the  Southron  knight  to 
be  no  other  than  the  regent  of  Scotland. 

"Who  art  thou?"  cried  the  warrior,  with  a  voice  of  com- 
mand that  better  became  his  lips  than  it  was  adapted  to  the 
man  whom  he  addressed. 

"  The  enemy  of  England  !  "  cried  the  chief. 

"Thou  art  Wallace,"  was  the  immediate  reply;  "none  else 
dare  answer  the  Lord  of  Carrick  and  of  Annandale  with  such 
haughty  boldness." 


76  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  Every  Scot  in  this  land,"  returned  Wallace,  inflamed  with 
an  indignation  he  did  not  attempt  to  repress,  "would  thus 
answer  Bruce,  not  only  in  reference  to  England,  but  to  him- 
self !  to  that  Bruce,  who,  not  satisfied  with  having  abandoned 
his  people  to  their  enemies,  has  stolen,  a  base  fratricide,  to 
slay  his  brethren  in  their  home.  To  have  met  them  on  the 
plain  of  Stamnore  would  have  been  a  deed  his  posterity  might 
have  bewailed ;  but  what  horror,  what  shame,  will  be  theirs 
when  they  know  that  he  came  to  ruin  his  own  rights,  to  stab 
his  people,  in  the  very  bosom  of  his  country !  I  come  from 
gazing  on  the  murdered  body  of  the  virtuous  Earl  of  Both  well., 
The  Lords  Bute  and  Fyfe,  and  perhaps  Loch-awe,  have  fallen 
beneath  the  Southron  sword  and  your  unnatural  arm,  and  yet 
do  you  demand  what  Scot  would  dare  to  tell  you  that  he 
holds  the  Earl  of  Carrick  and  his  coadjutors  as  his  most  mor- 
tal foes?" 

"  Ambitious  man !  Dost  thou  flatter  thyself  with  belief 
that  I  am  to  be  deceived  by  thy  pompous  declamation  ?  I 
know  the  motive  of  all  this  pretended  patriotism.  I  am  well 
informed  of  the  aim  of  all  this  vaunted  prowess,  and  I  came, 
not  to  fight  the  battles  of  King  Edward,  but  to  punish  the 
proud  usurper  of  the  rights  of  Bruce.  I  have  gained  my 
point.  My  brave  followers  slew  the  Lord  of  Bothwell ;  my 
brave  followers  made  the  hitherto  invincible  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace retreat.  I  came  in  the  power  of  my  birthright,  and,  as 
your  lawful  king,  I  command  you  this  hour  to  lay  your  rebel 
sword  at  my  feet.  Obey,  proud  knight,  or  to-morrow  puts  you 
into  Edward's  hand,  and,  without  appeal,  you  die  the  death  of 
a  traitor." 

"  Unhappy  prince ! "  cried  Wallace,  now  suspecting  that 
Bruce  had  been  deceived ;  "  is  it  over  the  necks  of  your  most 
loyal  subjects  that  you  would  mount  your  throne  ?  How  have 
you  been  mistaken !  How  have  you  strengthened  the  hands 
of  your  enemy  and  weakened  your  own  by  this  day's  action ! 
The  cause  is  now,  probably,  lost  forever  ;  and  from  whom  are 
we  to  date  its  ruin  but  from  him  to  whom  the  nation  looked 
as  to  its  appointed  deliverer  ?  From  him  whose  once  honored 
name  will  now  be  regarded  with  execration." 

"Burden  not  my  name,  rash  young  man,"  replied  Bruce, 
"  with  the  charges  belonging  to  your  own  mad  ambition.  Who 
disturbed  the  peace  in  which  Scotland  reposed  after  the  battle 
of  Dunbar  but  William  Wallace  ?  Who  raised  the  country  in 
arms  but  William  Wallace?  Who  stole  from  me  my  birth- 
right and  fastened  the  people's  love  on  himself  but  William 


FALKIRK.  77 

Wallace  ?  Who  affected  to  repel  a  crown  that  he  might  the 
more  certainly  fix  it  on  his  head  but  William  Wallace  ?  And 
who  dares  now  taunt  me  with  his  errors  and  mishaps  but  the 
same  traitor  to  his  lawful  sovereign  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  answer  thee,  Lord  of  Carrick,"  replied  Wallace, 
"  with  a  similar  appeal  ?  Who,  when  the  Southron  tyrant 
preferred  a  false  claim  to  the  supremacy  of  this  realm,  sub- 
scribed to  the  falsehood,  and  by  that  action  did  all  in  his 
power  to  make  a  free  people  slaves  ?  Who,  when  the  brand 
of  cruelty  swept  this  kingdom  from  shore  to  shore,  lay  indo- 
lent in  the  usurper's  court  and  heard  of  these  oppressions  with- 
out a  sigh  ?  Who,  horror  on  horror  !  brought  an  army  into  his 
own  inheritance  to  slay  his  brethren,  and  to  lay  it  desolate 
before  his  mortal  foe  ?  Thy  heart  will  tell  thee,  Bruce,  who  is 
this  man ;  and,  if  honor  yet  remain  in  that  iron  region,  thou 
wilt  not  disbelieve  the  asseverations  of  an  honest  Scot  who  pro- 
claims that  it  was  to  save  them  whom  thou  didst  abandon 
that  he  appeared  in  the  armies  of  Scotland.  It  was  to  supply 
the  place  of  thy  desertion  that  he  assumed  the  rule  with  which 
a  grateful  people,  rescued  from  bondage,  invested  him." 

"  Bold  chieftain ! "  exclaimed  Bruce,  "  is  it  thus  you  con- 
tinue to  brave  your  offended  prince  ?  But  in  pity  to  your 
youth,  in  admiration  of  a  prowess  which  would  have  been  god- 
like had  it  been  exerted  for  your  sovereign,  and  not  used  as  a 
bait  to  satisfy  an  ambition  wild  as  it  is  towering,  I  would  ex- 
postulate with  you ;  I  would  even  deign  to  tell  you  that  in 
granting  the  supremacy  of  Edward,  the  royal  Bruce  submits 
not  to  the  mere  wish  of  a  despot,  but  to  the  necessity  of  the 
times.  This  is  not  an  era  of  so  great  loyalty  that  any  sover- 
eign may  venture  to  contend  against  such  an  imperial  arm  as 
Edward's.  And  would  you,  a  boy  in  years,  a  novice  in  poli- 
tics, and  though  brave,  and  till  this  day  successful,  would  you 
pretend  to  prolong  a  war  with  the  dictator  of  kingdoms  ?  Can 
rational  discrimination  be  united  with  the  valor  you  possess, 
and  you  not  perceive  the  unequal  contest  between  a  weak  state 
deprived  of  its  head  and  agitated  by  intestine  emotions,  and  a 
mighty  nation  conducted  by  the  ablest  and  most  martial  mon- 
arch of  his  age  ?  A  man  who  is  not  only  determined  to  main- 
tain his  pretensions  to  Scotland,  but  is  master  of  every  resource 
either  for  protracting  war  or  pushing  it  with  vigor.  If  the  love 
of  your  country  be  indeed  your  motive  for  perseverance,  your 
obstinacy  tends  only  to  lengthen  her  misery.  But  if,  as  I 
believe  is  the  case,  you  carry  your  views  to  private  aggran- 
dizement, reflect  on  their  probable  issue.  Should  Edward, 


78  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

by  a  miracle,  withdraw  his  armies,  and  an  intoxicated  people 
elevate  their  minion  to  the  throne,  the  lords  of  Scotland  would 
reject  the  bold  invasion,  arid,  with  the  noble  vengeance  of 
insulted  greatness,  hurl  from  his  height  the  proud  usurper 
of  their  rights  and  mine." 

"  To  usurp  any  man's  rights,  and  least  of  all  my  king's," 
replied  Wallace,  "never  came  within  the  range  of  my  thoughts. 
Though  lowly  born,  Lord  Carrick,  I  am  not  so  base  as  to 
require  assumption  to  give  me  dignity.  I  saw  my  country 
made  a  garrison  of  Edward's ;  I  beheld  its  people  outraged  in 
every  relation  that  is  dear  to  man.  Who  heard  their  cry  ? 
Where  was  Bruce  ?  Where  the  nobles  of  Scotland,  that  none 
arose  to  extinguish  her  burning  villages,  to  shelter  the  mother 
and  the  child,  to  rescue  purity  from  violation,  to  defend  the 
bleeding  father  and  his  son  ?  The  shrieks  of  despair  resounded 
through  the  land,  and  none  appeared.  The  hand  of  violence 
fell  on  my  own  house  —  the  wife  of  my  bosom  was  stabbed  to 
the  heart  by  a  magistrate  of  the  usurper.  I  then  drew  the 
sword  —  I  took  pity  on  those  who  suffered,  as  I  had  suffered. 
I  espoused  their  cause;  and  never  will  I  forsake  it  till  life 
forsake  me.  Therefore,  that  I  became  the  champion  of  Scot- 
land, Lord  of  Carrick,  blame  not  my  ambition,  but  rather  the 
supineness  of  the  nobility,  and  chiefly  yourself  —  you,  who, 
uniting  personal  merit  to  dignity  of  descent,  had  deserted  the 
post  which  both  nature  and  circumstance  called  upon  you  to 
occupy.  Had  the  Scots,  from  the  time  of  BalioFs  abdication, 
possessed  such  a  leader  as  yourself  (for  what  is  the  necessity 
of  the  times  but  the  pusillanimity  of  those  who  ought  to  coii- 
tend  with  Edward  ?)  by  your  valor,  and  their  union,  you  must 
have  surmounted  every  difficulty  under  which  we  struggle, 
and  have  closed  the  contest  with  success  and  honor.  If  you 
now  start  from  your  guilty  delusion,  it  may  not  be  too  late  to 
rescue  Scotland  from  the  perils  which  surround  her.  Listen, 
then,  to  my  voice,  prince  of  the  blood  of  Alexander ;  forswear 
the  tyrant  who  has  cajoled  you  to  this  abandonment  of  your 
country,  and  resolve  to  be  her  deliverer.  The  bravest  of  the 
Scots  are  ready  to  acknowledge  you  their  lord,  to  reign,  as 
your  forefathers  did,  untrammelled  by  any  foreign  yoke. 
Exchange,  then,  a  base  vassalage  for  freedom  and  a  throne. 
Awake  to  yourself,  noble  Bruce,  and  behold  what  it  is  that  I 
propose.  Heaven  itself  cannot  set  a  more  glorious  prize  before 
the  eyes  of  virtue  or  ambition  than  to  join  in  one  object,  the 
acquisition  of  royalty  with  the  maintenance  of  national  inde- 
pendence. Such  is  my  last  appeal  to  you.  For  myself,  as  I 


FALKIRK.  79 

am  well  convinced  that  the  real  welfare  of  my  country  can 
never  subsist  with  the  sacrifice  of  her  liberties,  I  am  deter- 
mined, as  far  as  in  me  lies,  to  prolong,  not  her  miseries,  but 
her  integrity,  by  preserving  her  from  the  contamination  of 
slavery.  But,  should  mysterious  fate  decree  her  fall,  may  that 
power  which  knows  the  vice  and  horrors  which  accompany  a 
tyrant's  reign,  terminate  the  existence  of  a  people  who  can  no 
longer  preserve  their  lives  but  by  receiving  laws  from  usurpa 
tion ! " 

The  truth  and  gallantry  of  these  sentiments  struck  the  awak- 
ened mind  of  Bruce  with  the  force  of  conviction.  Another 
auditor  was  nigh  who  also  lost  not  a  syllable;  •" and  the  flame 
was  conveyed  from  the  breast  of  one  hero  to  that  of  the  other." 

Lord  Carrick  secretly  repented  of  all  that  he  had  done,  but 
being  too  proud  to  acknowledge  so  much,  he  briefly  answered : 
"Wallace,  your  words  have  made  an  impression  on  me  that 
may  one  day  still  more  brighten  the  glory  of  your  fame.  Be 
silent  respecting  this  conference ;  be  faithful  to  the  principles 
you  have  declared,  and  ere  long  you  shall  hear  royally  of 
Bruce."  As  he  spoke  he  turned  away  and  was  lost  among  the 
trees.1 

Wallace  stood  for  some  minutes  musing  on  what  had  passed, 
when,  hearing  a  footstep  behind  him,  he  turned  round  and  be- 
held approaching  him  a  young  and  graceful  form  habited  in 
a  white  hacqueton  wrought  in  gold,  with  golden  spurs  on  his 
feet,  and  a  helmet  of  the  same  costly  metal  on  his  head 
crested  with  white  feathers.  Had  the  scene  been  in  Palestine 
he  might  have  mistaken  him  for  the  host's  guardian  angel  in 
arms.  But  the  moment  the  eyes  of  Wallace  fell  on  him,  the 
stranger  hastened  forward  and  threw  himself  on  one  knee  be- 
fore him  with  so  noble  a  grace  that  the  chief  was  lost  in  won- 
der what  this  beautiful  apparition  could  mean.  The  youth, 
after  an  agitated  pause,  bowing  his  head,  exclaimed :  "  Pardon 
this  intrusion,  bravest  of  men  !  I  come  to  offer  you  my  heart, 
my  life !  To  wash  out,  by  your  side,  in  the  blood  of  the  ene- 
mies of  Scotland,  the  stigma  which  now  dishonors  the  name  of 
Bruce  !  "  —  "  And  who  are  you,  noble  youth  ?  "  cried  Wallace, 
raising  him  from  the  ground.  "  Surely  my  prayers  are  at  last 
answered,  and  I  hear  these  sentiments  from  one  of  Alexander's 
race." 

i  The  jealousy  of  the  lords  against  Wallace,  and  the  particulars  of  the  battle  of  Fal. 
kirk,  with  his  discourse  with  Bruce  on  the  banks  of  the  Carron,  are  well-known  events 
in  Scottish  annals,  and  the  writer  of  this  work  has  spared  no  researches  to  bring  the  ac- 
count here  presented  as  near  the  fact  as  possible.  Since  the  first  publication  of  thia 
work,  the  inhabitants  of  Falkirk  have  erected  a  pillar  to  the  memory  of  Wallace,  on  the 
hill  where  he-drew  up  his  army. 


80  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  I  am  indeed  of  his  blood/'  replied  he ;  "  and  it  must  now 
be  my  study  to  prove  my  descent  by  deeds  worthy  of  my  an- 
cestor. I  am  Eobert  Bruce,  the  eldest  son  of  the  Earl  of 
Carrick  and  Annandale.  Grieving  over  the  slaughter  that  his 
valiant  arm  has  made  of  his  own  people  (although,  till  you 
taught  him  otherwise,  he  believed  they  fought  to  maintain  the 
usurpation  of  an  ambitious  subject),  he  walked  out  in  melan- 
choly. I  followed  at  a  distance,  and  I  heard,  unseen,  all  that 
has  passed  between  you  and  him.  He  has  retired  to  his  tent, 
and,  unknown  to  him,  I  hastened  across  the  Carron,  to  avow 
my  loyalty  to  virtue,  to  declare  my  determination  to  live  for 
Scotland  or  to  die  for  her,  and  to  follow  the  arms  of  Sir 
William  Wallace  till  he  plants  my  father  in  the  throne  of  his 
ancestors.'7 

"I  take  you  at  your  word,  brave  prince,"  replied  the  re- 
gent, "  and  this  night  shall  give  you  an  opportunity  to  redeem 
to  Scotland  what  your  father's  sword  .has  this  day  wrested 
from  her.  What  I  mean  to  do  must  be  effected  in  the  course 
of  a  few  hours.  That  done,  it  will  be  prudent  for  you  to  re- 
turn to  the  Carrick  camp,  and  there  take  the  most  effectual 
means  to  persuade  your  father  to  throw  himself  at  once  into 
the  arms  of  Scotland.  The  whole  nation  will  then  rally 
round  their  king,  and  as  his  weapon  of  war,  I  shall  rejoice  to 
fulfil  the  commission  with  which  God  has  intrusted  me."  He 
then  briefly  unfolded  to  the  eagerly  listening  Bruce  (whose 
aspiring  spirit,  inflamed  by  the  fervor  of  youth  and  winged  by 
natural  courage,  saw  the  glory  alone  of  the  enterprise)  an 
attack  which  he  meant  to  make  on  the  camp  of  Edwarcf  while 
his  victorious  troops  slept  in  fancied  security. 

He  had  sent  Sir  John  Graham  to  Stirling  to  call  out  its 
garrison ;  Ker  he  had  despatched  on  a  similar  errand ;  and 
3xpecting  that  by  this  time  some  of  the  troops  would  be 
arrived  on  the  southern  extremity  of  the  carse,  he  threw  his 
plaid  over  the  prince's  splendid  garb  to  conceal  him  from 
notice ;  then  returning  to  the  few  who  lay  on  the  northern 
bank  of  the  river,  he  asked  one  of  the  young  Gordons  to  lend 
him  his  armor,  saying  he  had  use  for  it,  and  to  seek  another 
suit  in  the  heap  that  had  been  collected  from  the  buried  dead. 
The  brave  Scot  cheerfully  acquiesced,  and  Wallace,  retiring 
amongst  the  trees  with  his  royal  companion,  Bruce  soon  cov- 
ered his  gay  hacqueton  with  this  rough  mail,  and  placing  the 
Scottish  bonnet  on  his  head,  put  a  large  stone  into  the  golden 
helmet  and  sunk  it  in  the  waters  of  the  Carron.  Being  thus 
completely  armed  like  one  of  the  youthful  clansmen  in  the 


FALKIRK.  81 

ranks  (and  such  disguise  was  necessary),  Wallace  put  the 
trusty  claymore  of  his  country  into  its  prince's  hand,  and 
clasping  him  with  a  hero's  warmth  to  his  heart  —  "  Now  it  is," 
cried  he,  "  that  William  Wallace  lives  anew,  since  he  has  seen 
this  hour." 

On  reemerging  from  the  wood,  they  met  Sir  John  Graham, 
who  had  just  arrived  with  five  hundred  fugitives  from  Lord 
Bute's  slaughtered  division  whom  he  had  rallied  on  the  caise. 
He  informed  his  friend  that  the  Earl  of  Mar  was  within  half 
a  mile  of  the  Carron  with  three  thousand  more,  and  that  he 
would  soon  be  joined  by  other  reinforcements  to  a  similar 
amount.  While  GraKam  yet  spoke  a  squadron  of  armed  men 
approached  from  the  Forth  side.  Wallace,  advancing  towards 
them,  beheld  the  Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  in  his  sacerdotal  robes,  at 
their  head,  but  with  a  corselet  on  his  breast,  and  instead  of 
his  crosier  he  carried  a  drawn  sword.1  "We  come  to  you, 
champion  of  Scotland,"  cried  the  prelate,  "with  the  prayers 
and  the  arms  of  the  church.  The  sword  of  the  Levites  of  old 
smote  the  enemies  of  Israel ;  and  in  the  same  faith  that  the 
God  of  Justice  will  go  before  us  this  night  we  come  to  fight 
for  Scotland's  liberties." 

His  followers  were  the  younger  brethren  of  the  monastery 
of  Cambus-Kenneth,  and  others  from  the  neighboring  con- 
vents ;  altogether  making  a  stout  and  well-appointed  legion. 

"  With  this  handful;"  cried  Wallace,  "  Heaven  may  find  a 
David  who  shall  yet  strike  yon  Goliath  on  the  forehead." 

Lord  Mar  and  Lord  Lennox  now  came  up,  and  Wallace, 
marshalling  his  train,  found  that  he  had  nearly  ten  thousand 
men.  He  gave  to  each  leader  his  plan  of  attack,  and  having 
placed  Bruce  with  Graham  in  the  van,  before  he  took  his 
station  at  its  head,  he  retired  to  the  ruins  near  Dunipacis,  to 
visit  the  mourning  solitude  of  Murray.  He  found  the  pious 
son  sitting  silent  and  motionless  by  the  side  of  his  dead 
parent.  Without  arousing  the  violence  of  grief  by  any  refer- 
ence to  the  sight  before  him,  Wallace  briefly  communicated 
his  project.  Lord  Andrew  started  on  his  feet.  "I  will  share 
all  the  peril  with  you.  I  shall  again  grapple  with  the  foe  that 
has  thus  bereaved  me.  This  dark  mantle,"  cried  he,  turning 
towards  the  breathless  corse  and  throwing  his  plaid  over  it, 
will  shroud  thy  hallowed  remains  till  I  return.  I  go  where 
thou  wouldst  direct  me.  Oh,  my  father ! "  exclaimed  he  in  a 
burst  of  grief,  "the  trumpet  shall  sound,  and  thou  wilt  not 

*  William  Sinclair,  the  brave  and  patriotic  Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  was  brother  to  the 
Lord  of  Koslyn. 

VOL.  II.  — 6 


82  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

hear!  But  I  go  to  take  vengeance  for  thy  blood."  So 
saying  he  sprang  from  the  place,  and  accompanying  Wallace 
to  the  plain,  took  his  station  in  the  silent  but  swiftly  mov- 
ing army.1 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

CARRON     BANKS. 

THE  troops  of  King  Edward  lay  overpowered  with  wine. 
Elated  with  victory,  they  had  drunk  largely,  the  royal  pavil- 
ion setting  them  the  example ;  for  though  Edward  was  tem- 
perate, yet,  to  natter  his  recovered  friends,  the  inordinate 
Buchan  and  Soulis,  he  had  allowed  a  greater  excess  that 
night  than  he  was  accustomed  to  sanction.  The  banquet  over, 
every  knight  retired  to  his  tent,  every  soldier  to  his  pallet, 
and  a  deep  sleep  lay  upon  every  man.  The  king  himself, 
whose  many  thoughts  had  long  kept  waking,  now  fell  into  a 
slumber. 

Guards  had  been  placed  around  the  camp,  more  from  mili- 
tary ceremony  than  an  idea  of  their  necessity.  The  strength 
of  Wallace  they  believed  broken,  and  that  they  should  have 
nothing  to  do  next  morning  but  to  chase  him  into  Stirling  and 
take  him  there.  But  the  spirit  of  the  regent  was  not  so 
easily  subdued.  He  ever  thought  it  shameful  to  despair 
while  it  was  possible  to  make  a  stand.  And  now,  leading  his 
determined  followers  through  the  lower  grounds  of  Cumber- 
nauld,  he  detached  half  his  force  under  Mar,  to  take  the 
Southron  camp  in  the  rear,  while  he  should  attack  the  front 
and  pierce  his  way  to  the  royal  pavilion. 

With  soundless  caution  the  battalion  of  Mar  wound  round 
the  banks  of  the  Forth  to  reach  the  point  of  its  destination^ 
and  Wallace,  proceeding  with  as  noiseless  a  step,  gained  the 
hill  which  overlooked  his  sleeping  enemies.  His  front  ranks, 
shrouded  by  branches  they  had  torn  from  the  trees  in  Torwood, 
now  stood  still.  Without  this  precaution,  had  any  eye  looked 
from  the  Southron  line  they  must  have  been  perceived ;  but 
now,  should  a  hundred  gaze  on  them,  their  figures  were  so 
blended  with  the  adjoining  thickets  they  might  easily  be 
mistaken  for  a  part  of  them.  As  the  moon  sunk  in  the 

1  Dunipacte  means  the  hills  of  peace.  There  are  still  two  of  these  hills  on  the  banks 
of  the  Carro  i,  and  are  supposed  to  have  been  erected  by  the  Norwegians  in  some  treaty 
with  the  iiat  ves.  Or,  we  may  probably  deem  them  coverings  of  the  dead,  resting  in 
peace. 


CARRON   BANKS.  83 

horizon  they  moved  gently  down  the  hill,  and  scarcely  draw* 
ing  breath,  were  within  a  few  paces  of  the  first  outpost  when 
one  of  the  sentinels,  starting  from  his  reclining  position, 
suddenly  exclaimed,  "  What  sound  is  that  ?  "  —  "  Only  the 
wind  amongst  the  trees,"  returned  his  comrade  ;  "  I  see  their 
branches  waving.  Let  me  sleep;  for  Wallace  yet  lives,  and 
we  may  have  hot  work  to-morrow."  Wallace  did  live,  and  the 
man  slept  —  to  wake  no  more,  for  the  next  instant  a  Scottish 
brand  was  through  every  Southron  heart  on  the  outpost. 
That  done,  Wallace  threw  away  his  bough,  leaped  the  narrow 
dyke  which  lay  in  front  of  the  camp,  and  with  Bruce  and 
Graham  at  the  head  of  a  chosen  band  of  brave  men  cautiously 
proceeded  onward  to  reach  the  pavilion.  At  the  moment  he 
should  blow  his  bugle,  the  divisions  he  had  left  with  Lennox 
and  Murray  and  the  Lord  Mar  were  to  press  forward  to  the 
same  point. 

Still  all  lay  in  profound  repose ;  and  guided  by  the  lamps 
which  burnt  around  the  royal  quarters,  the  dauntless  Scots 
reached  the  tent.  \Vra^ace  na^-  already  laid  his  hand  upon 
the  curtain  that  was  its  entrance,  when  an  armed  man  with  a 
presented  pike  demanded,  "  Who  comes  here  ?  "  The  regent's 
answer  laid  the  interrogator's  head  at  his  feet ;  but  the  voice 
had  awakened  the  ever-watchful  king.  Perceiving  his  own 
danger  in  the  fall  of  the  sentinel,  he  snatched  his  sword,  and, 
calling  aloud  on  his  sleeping  train,  sprang  from  his  couch.  He 
was  immediately  surrounded  by  half  a  score  knights,  who 
started  on  their  feet  before  Wallace  could  reach  the  spot. 
Short,  however,  would  have  been  their  protection ;  they  fell 
before  his  arm  and  that  of  Graham,  and  left  a  vacant  place,  for 
Edward  had  disappeared.  Foreseeing,  from  the  first  prowess  of 
these  midnight  invaders,  the  fate  of  his  guards,  he  had  made  a 
timely  escape  by  cutting  a  passage  for  himself  through  the 
canvas  of  his  tent.  Wallace  perceived  that  his  prize  had  eluded 
his  grasp ;  but  hoping  to  at  least  drive  him  from  the  field,  he 
blew  the  appointed  signal  to  Mar  and  Lennox,  caught  one  of  the 
lamps  from  the  monarch's  table,  and  setting  fire  to  the  adjoin- 
ing drapery,  rushed  from  its  blazing  volumes  to  meet  his  brave 
colleagues  amongst  the  disordered  lines.  Graham  and  his  fol- 
lowers, with  firebrands  in  their  hands,  threw  conflagration  into 
all  parts  of  the  camp,  and  with  the  fearful  war-cries  of  their 
country  seemed  to  assail  the  terrified  enemy  from  every  direc- 
tion. Men  half  dressed  and  unarmed  rushed  from  their  tents 
upon  the  pikes  of  their  enemies ;  hundreds  fell  without  strik- 
ing a  blow  j  and  they  who  were  stationed  nearest  the  outposts 


84  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

betook  themselves  to  flight,  scattering  themselves  in  scared 
throngs  over  the  amazed  plains  of  Linlithgow. 

The  king  in  vain  sought  to  rally  his  men,  to  remind  them  of 
their  late  victory.  His  English  alone  hearkened  to  his  call ; 
superstition  had  laid  her  petrifying  hand  on  all  the  rest, 
The  Irish  saw  a  terrible  judgment  in  this  scene,  believing  it 
had  fallen  upon  them  for  having  taken  arms  against  their 
sister  people ;  the  Welsh,  as  they  descried  the  warlike  Bishop 
of  Dunkeld  issuing  from  the  mists  of  the  river,  and  charging 
his  foaming  steed  through  their  flying  defiles,  c.ould  not  per- 
suade themselves  that  Merlin  had  not  arisen  to  chastise  their 
obedience  to  the  ravager  of  their  country.  Every  supersti- 
tious, every  panic  fear  took  possession  of  the  half-intoxicated, 
half-dreaming  wretches,  and  falling  in  bloody  and  unresisting 
heaps  all  around,  it  was  rather  a  slaughter  than  a  battle.  Oppo- 
sition seemed  everywhere  abandoned  excepting  on  the  spot  still 
maintained  by  the  King  of  England  and  his  brave  countrymen. 
The  faithless  Scots  who  had  followed  the  Cummins  to  the 
field  also  stood  there  and  fought  with  desperation.  Wallace 
opposed  the  despair  and  valor  of  his  adversaries  with  the 
steadiness  of  his  men,  and  Graham,  having  seized  some  of 
the  war-engines,  discharged  a  shower  of  blazing  arrows  upon 
the  Southron  phalanx. 

The  camp  was  now  on  fire  in  every  direction,  and  putting 
all  to  the  hazard  of  one  decisive  blow,  Edward  ordered  his  men 
to  make  at  once  to  the  point  where,  by  the  light  of  the  flaming 
tents,  he  could  perceive  the  waving  plumes  of  Wallace.  With 
his  ponderous  mace  held  terribly  in  the  air  the  king  himself 
bore  down  to  the  shock,  and,  breaking  through  the  intervening 
combatants,  assaulted  the  chief.  The  might  of  ten  thousand 
souls  was  then  in  the  arm  of  the  regent  of  Scotland.  The 
puissant  Edward  wondered  at  himself  as  he  shrank  from  before 
his  strokes,  as  he  shuddered  at  the  heroic  fierceness  of  a  coun- 
tenance which  seemed  more  than  mortal.  Was  it  indeed  the 
Scottish  chieftain,  or  some  armed  delegate  from  heaven  de- 
scended to  fight  the  battles  of  the  oppressed?  Edward 
trembled;  his  mace  was  struck  from  his  hand,  but  immedi- 
ately a  glittering  falchion  supplied  its  place,  and  with  recover- 
ing presence  of  mind  he  renewed  the  combat. 

Meanwhile  the  young  Bruce,  who,  in  his  humble  armor, 
might  have  been  passed  by  as  an  enemy  for  meaner  swords, 
checking  the  onward  speed  of  March,  pierced  him  at  once 
through  the  heart.  "  Die,  thou  disgrace  to  the  name  of  Scot," 
cried  he,  "  and  with  thy  blood  expunge  iny  stains ! "  His 


CARRON   BANKS.  85 

sword  now  laid  all  opposition  at  his  feet ;  and  while  the  tem- 
pest of  death  blew  around,  the  groans  of  the  dying,  the  shrieks 
of  the  wounded,  and  the  outcries  of  those  who  were  perishing 
in  the  flames,  drove  the  king's  ranks  to  distraction,  and  raised 
so  great  a  fear  in  the  minds  of  the  Cummin  clan,  that,  breaking 
from  the  royal  line  with  yells  of  dismay,  they  fled  in  all  direc- 
tions after  their  already  fugitive  allies. 

Edward  saw  the  Earl  of  March  fall,  and  finding  himself 
wounded  in  many  places,  with  a  backward  step  he  received  the 
blows  of  Wallace  ;  but  that  determined  chief,  following  his  ad- 
vantage, made  a  stroke  at  the  king  which  threw  him,  as- 
tounded, into  the  arms  of  his  followers.  At  that  moment 
Lincoln  raised  his  arm  to  strike  into  the  back  of  Wallace,  but 
Graham  arrested  the  blow  and  sent  the  young  lord  a  motion- 
less body  to  the  earth.  The  Southron  ranks  closed  immedi- 
ately before  their  insensible  monarch,  and  a  contest  more  des- 
perate than  any  which  had  preceded  it  took  place.  Hosts 
seemed  to  fall  on  both  sides.  At  last  the  Southrons,  having 
stood  their  ground  till  Edward  was  carried  from  further  dan- 
ger, suddenly  wheeled  abgut  and  fled  precipitately  towards 
the  east.  Wallace  pursued  them  on  full  charge,  driving  them 
across  the  lowlands  of  Linlithgow,  where  he  learned,  from 
some  prisoners  he  took,  that  the  Earl  of  Carrick  was  in  the 
Lothians,  having  retreated  thither  on  the  first  tidings  that  the 
Scots  had  attacked  the  English  camp. 

"  Now  is  your  time,"  said  Wallace  to  Bruce,  "  to  rejoin  your 
father.  Bring  him  to  Scotland,  where  a  free  crown  awaits 
him.  Your  actions  of  this  night  must  be  a  pledge  to  your 
country  of  the  virtues  which  will  support  his  throne." 

The  younger  warrior,  throwing  off  his  rugged  hauberk  in 
a  retired  glen,  appeared  again  as  a  prince,  and  embracing  the 
regent,  "  A  messenger  from  myself  or  from  my  father,"  said 
he,  "  shall  meet  you  at  Stirling.  Meanwhile,  farewell !  and 
give  my  thanks  to  the  young  Gordon,  whose  sword  armed  me 
for  Scotland." 

Bruce  mounted  the  horse  Wallace  had  prepared,  and,  spur- 
ring along  the  banks  of  the  Almond,  was  soon  lost  amidst  its 
luxuriant  shades. 

Wallace  still  led  the  pursuit  of  Edward,  and  meeting  those 
auxiliaries  from  the  adjoining  counties  which  his  provident 
orders  had  prepared  to  turn  out  on  the  first  appearance 
of  this  martial  chase,  he  poured  his  troops  through  Ettrick 
forest,  and  drove  the  flying  host  of  England  far  into  North- 
umberland. There,  checking  his  triumphant  squadrons,  he 


86  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

recalled  his  stragglers,  and  returned  with  abated  speed  into  his 
own  country.  Halting  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Tweed,  he 
sent  to  their  quarters  those  bands  which  belonged  to  the 
border  castles,  and  then  marched  leisurely  forward,  that  his 
brave  soldiers,  who  had  sustained  the  weight  of  the  battle, 
might  recover  their  exhausted  strength. 

At  Peebles  he  was  agreeably  surprised  by  the  sight  of 
Edwin.  Though  ignorant  of  the  recommenced  hostilities  of 
Edward,  Lord  Ruthven  became  so  impatient  to  resume  his 
duties,  that,  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  move,  he  had  set  off  on 
his  return  to  Perth.  On  arriving  at  Hunting-tower  he  was 
told  of  the  treachery  of  March,  also  of  his  fate,  and  that  the 
regent  had  beaten  the  enemy  on  the  banks  of  the  Carron, 
and  was  pursuing  him  into  his  own  dominions.  Ruthven  was 
inadequate  to  the  exertion  of  following  the  successful  troops, 
but  Edwin,  rejoicing  at  this  new  victory,  would  not  be  detained, 
and  crossing  the  Forth  into  Mid-Lothian,  had  sped  his  eager 
way,  until  the  happy  moment  that  brought  him  again  to  the 
side  of  his  first  and  dearest  friend. 

As  they  continued  their  route  together,  Edwin  inquired  the 
events  of  the  past  time,  and  heard  them  related,  with  wonder, 
horror,  and  gratitude.  Grateful  for  the  preservation  of  Wal- 
lace, grateful  for  the  rescue  of  his  country  from  the  menaced 
destruction,  for  some  time  he  could  only  clasp  his  friend's 
hand  with  strong  emotion  to  his  heart.  The  death  of  his 
uncle  Bothwell  made  that  heart  tremble  within  him  at  the 
thought  of  how  much  severer  might  have  been  his  deprivation. 
At  last  extricating  his  powers  of  speech  from  the  spell  of 
contradictory  feelings  which  enchained  them,  he  said,  "  But  if 
my  uncle  Mar  and  our  brave  Graham  were  in  the  last  con- 
flict, where  are  they  that  I  do  not  see  them  share  your  vic- 
tory?"—  UI  hope,"  returned  Wallace,  "that  we  shall  rejoin 
them  in  safety  at  Stirling.  Our  troops  parted  in  the  pursuit, 
and  after  having  sent  back  the  lowland  chieftains,  you  see  I 
have  none  with  me  now  but  my  own  particular  followers." 

The  regent's  expectations  that  he  should  soon  fall  in  with 
some  of  the  chasing  squadrons  were  the  next  morning  grati- 
fied. Crossing  the  Bathgate  Hills,  he  met  the  returning  bat- 
talions of  Lennox,  with  Lord  Mar's,  and  also  Sir  John 
Graham's.  Lord  Lennox  was  thanked  by  Wallace  for  his  good 
services,  and  immediately  despatched  to  reoccupy  his  station 
in  Dumbarton.  But  the  captains  of  Mar  and  of  Graham  could 
give  no  other  account  of  their  leaders  than  that  they  saw  them 
last  fighting  valiantly  in  the  Southron  camp,  and  had  since 


CARRON   BANKS.  87 

supposed  that  during  the  pursuit  they  must  have  joined  the 
regent's  squadron.  A  cold  dew  fell  over  the  limbs  of  Wallace 
at  these  tidings ;  he  looked  on  Murray  and  on  Edwin.  The 
expression  of  the  former's  face  told  him  what  were  his  fears ; 
but  Edwin,  ever  sanguine,  strove  to  encourage  the  hope  that 
all  might  yet  be  well.  "  They  may  not  have  yet  returned 
from  the  pursuit,  or  they  may  have  gone  on  to  Stirling." 

But  these  comfortings  were  soon  dispelled  by  the  appear- 
ance of  Lord  Kuthven,  who,  having  been  apprised  of  the 
regent's  approach,  came  forth  to  meet  him.  The  pleasure  of 
seeing  the  earl  so  far  recovered  as  to  have  been  able  to  leave 
Hunting-tower  was  checked  by  the  first  glance  of  his  face, 
on  which  was  deeply  characterized  some  tale  of  grief.  Edwin 
thought  it  was  the  recent  disasters  of  Scotland  he  mourned, 
and  with  a  cheering  voice  he  exclaimed  :  "  Courage,  my  father ! 
our  regent  comes  again  a  conqueror.  Edward  has  once  more 
recrossed  the  plains  of  Northumberland." 

"  Thanks  be  to  God  for  that ! "  replied  Euthven ;  "  but  what 
have  not  these  last  conflicts  cost  our  country  ?  Lord  Mar  is 
wounded  unto  death,  and  lies  in  a  chamber  next  to  the  yet  un- 
buried  corses  of  Lord  Bute  and  the  dauntless  Graham." 
Wallace  turned  deadly  pale ;  a  mist  passed  over  his  eyes,  and 
staggering,  he  breathlessly  supported  himself  on  the  arm  of 
Edwin.  Murray  looked  on  him,  but  all  was  still  in.  his  heart ; 
his  own  beloved  father  had  fallen,  and  in  that  stroke  Fate 
seemed  to  have  emptied  all  her  quiver. 

"  Lead  me  to  their  chambers,"  cried  Wallace.  "  Show  me 
where  my  friends  lie ;  let  me  hear  ,the  last  prayer  for  Scotland 
from  the  lips  of  the  bravest  of  her  veterans." 

Ruthveu  turned  the  head  of  his  horse,  and  as  he  rode  along 
he  informed  the  regent  that  Edwin  had  not  left  Hunting- 
tower  for  the  Forth  half  an  hour  when  an  express  arrived 
there  from  Falkirk.  By  it  he  learned  that  as  soon  as  the  in- 
habitants of  Stirling  saw  the  fire  of  the  Southron  camp,  they 
had  hastened  thither  to  enjoy  the  spectacle.  Some,  bolder 
than  the  rest,  entered  its  deserted  confines  (for  the  retreating 
squadrons  were  then  flying  over  the  plain),  and  amidst  the 
slaughtered  near  the  royal  tent  one  of  these  visitors  thought 
he  distinguished  groans.  Whether  friend  or  foe,  he  stooped 
to  render  assistance  to  the  sufferer,  and  soon  found  it  to  be 
Lord  Mar.  The  earl  begged  to  be  carried  to  some  shelter, 
that  he  might  see  his  wife  and  daughter  before  he  died.  The 
people  drew  him  out  from  under  his  horse  and  many  a  mangled 
corse,  and  wrapping  him  in  their  plaids,  conveyed  him  to 


88  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Falkirk,  where  they  lodged  him  in  the  convent.  "  A  messen- 
ger was  instantly  despatched  to  me,"  continued  Ruthven,  "  and 
indifferent  to  all  personal  considerations  I  set  out  imme- 
diately. I  saw  my  dying  brother-in-law.  At  his  request, 
that  others  might  not  be  left  to  suffer  what  he  had  en- 
dured under  the  pressure  of  the  slain,  the  field  had  been 
sought  for  the  wounded.  Many  were  conveyed  into  the 
neighboring  houses,  while  the  dead  were  consigned  to  the 
earth.  Deep  has  been  dug  the  graves  of  mingled  Scot  and 
English  on  the  banks  of  the  Carron.  Many  of  our  fallen 
nobles,  amongst  whom  was  the  princely  Badenoch,  have  been 
conveyed  to  the  cemetery  of  their  ancestors ;  others  are  en- 
tombed in  the  church  of  'Falkirk  ;  but  the  bodies  of  Sir  John 
Graham  and  my  brother  Bothwell,"  said  he  in  a  lower  tone,  "  I 
have  retained  till  your  return."  —  "  You  have  done  right,"  re- 
plied the  till  then  silent  Wallace ;  and  spurring  forward,  he 
saw  not  the  ground  he  trod  till,  ascending  the  hills  of  Falkirk, 
the  venerable  walls  of  its  monastery  presented  themselves  to 
his  view.  He  threw  himself  off  his  horse  and  entered,  pre- 
ceded by  Lord  Ruthven. 

He  stopped  before  the  cell  which  contained  the  dying  chief, 
and  desired  the  abbot  to  apprise  the  earl  of  his  arrival.  The 
sound  of  that  voice,  whose  heart-consoling  tones  could  be 
matched  by  none  on  earth,  penetrated  to  the  ear  of  his  almost 
insensible  friend.  Mar  started  from  his  pillow,  and  Wallace, 
through  the  half-open  door,  heard  him  say,  "  Let  him  come  in, 
Joanna.  All  my  mortal  hopes  now  hang  on  him." 

Wallace  instantly  stepped  forward,  and  beheld  the  veteran 
stretched  on  a  couch,  the  image  of  that  death  to  which  he  was 
so  rapidly  approaching.  He  hastened  towards  him,  and  the 
dying  man,  stretching  forth  his  arms,  exclaimed,  "  Come  to 
me,  Wallace,  my  son ;  the  only  hope  of  Scotland,  the  only 
human  trust  of  this  anxious  paternal  heart !  " 

Wallace  threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside  him,  and  taking 
his  hand  pressed  it  in  speechless  anguish  to  his  lips ;  every 
present  grief  was  then  weighing  on  his  soul,  and  denied  him 
the  power  of  utterance.  Lady  Mar  sat  by  the  pillow  of  her 
husband,  but  she  bore  no  marks  of  the  sorrow  which  convulsed 
the  frame  of  Wallace.  She  looked  serious,  but  her  cheek  wore 
its  freshest  bloom.  She  spoke  not ;  and  the  veteran  allowed 
the  tears  of  enfeebled  nature  to  fall  on  the  bent  head  of  his 
friend.  "  Mourn  not  for  me,"  cried  he,  "  nor  think  that  these 
are  regretful  drops.  I  die,  as  I  have  wished,  in  the  field,  for 
Scotland.'  Time  must  have  soon  laid  my  gray  hairs  ignobly 


CARRON  BANKS.  89 

in  the  grave,  and  to  enter  it  thus,  covered  with  honorable 
wounds,  is  glory,  and  has  long  been  my  prayer.  But,  dearest, 
most  unwearied  of  friends!  still  the  tears  of  mortality  will 
flow  ;  for  I  leave  my  children  fatherless  in  this  faithless  world. 
And  my  Helen !  — -  Oh,  Wallace  !  the  angel  who  exposed  her 
precious  self,  through  the  dangers  of  that  midnight  walk,  to 
save  Scotland,  her  father,  and  his  friends,  is  — lost  to  us  !  — 
Joanna,  tell  the  rest,"  said  he,  gasping,  "  for  I  cannot." 

Wallace  turned  to  Lady  Mar  with  an  inquiring  look  of  such 
wild  horror  that  she  found  her  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of 
her  mouth,  and  her  complexion  faded  into  the  pallidness  of 
his.  "  Surely,"  exclaimed  he,  "  there  is  not  to  be  a  wreck  of  all 
that  is  estimable  on  earth  !  The  Lady  Helen  is  not  dead  ?  "  — 
"No,"  rejoined  the  earl;  "but" —  He  could  proceed  no 
further,  and  Lady  Mar  forced  herself  to  speak.  "  She  has 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  On  my  lord's  being 
brought  to  this  place,  he  sent  for  myself  and  Lady  Helen,  but 
in  passing  by  Dunipacis  an  armed  squadron  issued  from  be- 
hind the  mound,  and,  putting  our  attendants  to  flight,  carried 
her  off.  I  escaped  hither.  The  reason  of  this  attack  was  ex- 
plained afterwards  by  one  of  the  Southrons,  who,  having  been 
wounded  by  our  escort,  was  taken  and  brought  to  Falkirk.  He 
said  that  Lord  Aymer  de  Valence,  having  been  sent  by  his  be- 
set monarch  to  call  Lord  Carrick  to  his  assistance,  found  the 
Bruce's  camp  deserted ;  but,  by  accident,  learning  that  Lady 
Helen  Mar  was  to  be  brought  to  Falkirk,  he  stationed  him- 
self behind  Dunipacis,  and  springing  out  as  soon  as  our  caval- 
cade was  in  view,  seized  her.  She  obtained,  the  rest  were 
allowed  to  escape.  But  as  Lord  de  Valence  loves  Helen,  I 
cannot  doubt  he  will  have  sufficient  honor  not  to  insult  the 
fame  of  her  family,  and  so  will  make  her  his  wife." 

"God  forbid!"  ejaculated  Mar,  holding  up  his  trembling 
hands ;  "  God  forbid  that  my  blood  should  ever  mingle  with 
that  of  any  one  of  the  people  who  have  wrought  such  woe  to 
Scotland !  Swear  to  me,  valiant  Wallace,  by  the  virtues  of 
her  virgin  heart,  by  your  own  immaculate  honor,  that  you  will 
move  heaven  and  earth  to  rescue  my  Helen  from  the  power 
of  this  Southron  lord  ! " 

"  So  help  me  Heaven ! "  answered  Wallace,  looking  stead- 
fastly upwards.  A  groan  burst  from  the  lips  of  Lady  Mar, 
and  her  head  sunk  on  the  side  of  the  couch.  "  What  ?  Who 
is  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Mar,  raising  his  head  in  alarm  from  his 
pillow.  "Believe  it  your  country,  Donald,"  replied  she.  "To 
what  do  you  bind  its  only  defender  ?  Are  you  not  throwing 


90  THE 'SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

him  into  the  very  centre  of  his  enemies  by  making  him  sweai 
to  rescue  Helen?  Think  you  that  De  Valence  will  not  foresee 
a  pursuit,  and  take  her  into  the  heart  of  England  ?  And 
thither  must  our  regent  follow  him.  Oh,  my  lord,  retract 
your  demand  !  Release  Sir  William  Wallace  from  a  vow  that 
must  destroy  him !  "  —  "  Wallace ! "  cried  the  now  soul-struck 
earl,  "  what  have  I  done  ?  Has  a  father's  anxiety  asked  of 
you  amiss  ?  If  so,  pardon  me.  But  if  my  daughter  also  must 
perish  for  Scotland,  take  her,  0  God !  uncontaminated,  and 
let  us  meet  in  heaven.  Wallace,  I  dare  not  accept  your 
vow."  —  "  But  I  will  fulfil  it,"  cried  he.  "  Let  thy  paternal 
heart  rest  in  peace,  and  by  Jesu's  help  Lady  Helen  shall 
again  be  in  her  own  country,  as  free  from  Southron  taint 
as  she  is  from  all  mortal  sins  !  De  Valence  dare  not  ap- 
proach her  heavenly  innocence  with  violence,  and  her  Scottish 
heart  will  never  consent  to  give  him  a  lawful  claim  to  her 
precious  self.  Edward's  legions  are  far  beyond  the  borders ; 
but  wherever  this  earl  may  be,  yet  I  will  reach  him,  for 
there  is  a  guiding  Hand  above,  and  the  demands  of  the  morn- 
ing at  Falkirk  are  now  to  be  answered  in  the  halls  of  Stir- 
ling." 

Lord  Euthven,  followed  by  Edwin  and  Murray,  entered  the 
room,  and  the  two  nephews  were  holding  each  a  hand  of 
their  dying  uncle  in  theirs  when  Lady  Ruthven,  who,  ex- 
hausted with  fatigue  and  anxiety,  had  retired  an  hour  before, 
reappeared  at  the  door  of  the  apartment.  She  had  been  in- 
formed of  the  arrival  of  the  regent  and  her  son,  and  now 
hastened  to  give  them  a  sorrowful  welcome.  "  Ah,  my  lord !  " 
cried  she,  as  Wallace  pressed  her  matron  cheek  to  his ;  "  this 
is  not  as  your  triumphs  are  wont  to  be  greeted !  You  are  still 
a  conqueror,  and  yet  death,  dreadful  death,  lies  all  around 
us.  And  our  Helen,  too  "  —  "  Shall  be  restored  to  you  by  the 
blessed  aid  of  Heaven,"  returned  he.  "  What  is  yet  left  for 
me  to  do  must  be  done,  and  then  " —  He  paused,  and  added, 
"  The  time  is  not  far  distant,  Lady  Ruthven,  when  we  shall 
all  meet  in  the  realms  to  which  so  many  of  our  bravest  and 
dearest  have  just  hastened." 

With  swimming  eyes  Edwin  drew  towards  his  master. 
"  My  uncle  would  sleep,"  he  said ;  "  he  is  exhausted,  and  will 
recall  us  when  he  awakes  from  rest."  The  eyes  of  the  veteran 
were  at  that  moment  closed  with  heavy  slumber.  Lady  Ruthven 
remained  with  the  countess  to  watch  by  him,  and  Wallace, 
gently  withdrawing,  was  followed  by  Ruthven  and  the  two 
young  men  out  of  the  apartment. 


CARRON   BANKS.  91 

Lord  Loch-awe,  with  the  Bishop  of  Dunkeld  and  other 
chiefs,  lay  in  different  chambers  pierced  with  many  wounds, 
but  none  so  grievous  as  those  of  Lord  Mar.  Wallace  visited 
them  all ;  and  having  gone  through  the  numerous  places  in 
the  neighborhood,  then  made  quarters  for  his  wounded  men, 
at  the  gloom  of  evening  he  returned  to  Falkirk.  He  sent 
Edwin  forward  to  inquire  after  the  repose  of  his  uncle,  but 
on  himself  reentering  the  monastery,  he  requested  the  abbot  to 
conduct  him  to  the  apartment  in  which  the  remains  of  Sir 
John  Graham  were  deposited.  The  father  obeyed ;  leading 
him  along  a  dark  passage,  he  opened  a  door  and  discovered 
the  slain  hero  lying  on  a  bier.  Two  monks  sat  at  its  head,  with 
tapers  in  their  hands.  Wallace  waved  them  to  withdraw ;  they 
set  down  the  lights  and  departed.  He  was  then  alone. 

For  some  time  he  stood  with  clasped  hands  looking  intently 
on  the  body  as  it  lay  extended  before  him.  "  Graham ! 
Graham  ! "  cried  he  at  last,  in  a  voice  of  unutterable  grief, 
"  dost  thou  not  rise  at  thy  general's  voice  ?  Oh  !  is  this  to  be 
the  tidings  I  am  to  send  to  the  brave  father  who  intrusted  to 
me  his  son  ?  Lost  in  the  prime  of  youth,  in  the  opening  of 
thy  renown,  is  it  thus  that  all  which  is  good  is  to  be  martyr- 
ized by  the  enemies  of  Scotland  ?  "  He  sunk  gradually  on  his 
knees  beside  him.  "  And  shall  I  not  look  once  more  on  that 
face."  said  he,  "  which  ever  turned  towards  mine  with  looks  of 
faith  and  love  ?  "  The  shroud  was  drawn  down  by  his  hand. 
He  started  on  his  feet  at  the  sight.  The  changing  touch  of 
death  had  altered  every  feature,  had  deepened  the  paleness  of 
the  bloodless  corse  into  an  ashy  hue.  "  Where  is  the  coun- 
tenance of  my  friend  ?  "  cried  he ;  "  where  the  spirit  which 
once  moved  in  beauty  and  animating  light  over  this  face  ? 
Gone ;  and  all  I  see  before  me  is  a  mass  of  moulded  clay ! 
Graham  !  Graham  !  "  cried  he,  looking  upwards,  "  thou  art  not 
here.  No  more  can  I  recognize  my  friend  in  this  deserted 
habitation  of  thy  soul.  Thine  own  proper  self,  thine  immortal 
spirit,  is  ascended  up  above,  and  there  my  fond  remembrance 
shall  ever  seek  thee  !  "  Again  he  knelt ;  but  it  was  in  devo- 
tion,—  a  devotion  which  drew  the  sting  from  death,  and 
opened  to  his  view  the  victory  of  the  Lord  of  Life  over  the 
king  of  terrors. 

Edwin,  having  learned  from  his  father  that  Lord  Mar  still 
slept,  and  being  told  by  the  abbot  where  the  regent  was,  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  consecrated  chamber.  On  entering  he  per- 
ceived him  kneeling  by  the  body  of  his  friend.  The  youth 
drew  near.  He  loved  the  brave  Graham,  and  he  almost  adored 


92  THE    SCOTT  IS  PI    CHIEFS. 

Wallace.  The  scene,  therefore,  smote  upon  his  heart.  He 
dropped  down  by  the  side  of  the  regent  and  throwing  his 
arms  around  his  neck,  in  a  convulsive  voice  exclaimed,  "  Our 
friend  is  gone ;  but  I  yet  live,  and  only  in  your  smiles,  my 
friend  and  brother  !  "  Wallace  strained  him  to  his  breast ;  he 
was  silent  for  some  minutes,  and  then  said,  "  To  every  dispen- 
sation of  God  I  am  resigned,  my  Edwin.  While  I  bow  to  this 
stroke,  I  acknowledge  the  blessing  I  still  hold  in  you  and 
Murray.  But  did  we  not  feel  these  visitations  from  our 
Maker,  they  would  not  be  decreed  to  us.  To  behold  the  dead 
is  the  penalty  of  man  for  sin;  for  it  is  more  pain  to  witness 
and  to  occasion  death  than  for  ourselves  to  die.  It  is  also  a 
lesson  which  God  teaches  his  sons,  and  in  the  moment  that  he 
shows  us  death,  he  convinces  us  of  immortality.  "  Look  on 
that  face,  Edwin  ! "  continued  he,  turning  his  eyes  on  the 
breathless  clay.  His  youthful  auditor,  awe-struck,  and  his 
tears  checked  by  the  solemnity  of  his  address,  looked  as  he  di- 
rected him.  "  Doth  not  that  inanimate  mould  of  earth  testify 
that  nothing  less  than  an  immortal  spirit  could  have  lit  up  its 
marble  substance  with  the  life  and  god-like  actions  we  have 
seen  it  perform  ?  "  Edwin  shuddered,  and  Wallace  letting 
the  shroud  fall  over  the  face,  added,  "  Never  more  will  I  look 
at  it,  for  it  no  longer  wears  the  characters  of  my  friend ;  they 
are  pictured  on  my  soul.  And  himself,  my  Edwin,  still  efful- 
gent in  beauty  and  glowing  with  imperishable  life,  looks  down 
on  us  from  heaven."  He  rose  as  he  spoke,  and  opening  the 
door,  the  monks  reentered,  and  placing  themselves  at  the 
head  of  the  bier,  chanted  the  vesper  requiem.  When  it  was 
ended,  Wallace  kissed  the  crucifix  they  laid  on  his  friend's 
breast,  and  left  the  cell. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

CHURCH    OF    FALKIRK. 

No  eye  closed  that  night  in  the  monastery  of  Falkirk.  The 
Earl  of  Mar  awaked  about  the  twelfth  hour,  and  sent  to  call 
Lord  Ruthven,  Sir  William  Wallace,  and  his  nephews  to  attend 
him.  As  they  approached,  the  priests,  who  had  just  anointed 
his  dying  head  with  the  sacred  unction,  drew  back.  The 
countess  and  Lady  Ruthven  supported  his  pillow.  He 
smiled  as  he  heard  the  advancing  steps  of  those  so  dear  to 


CHURCH    OF   FALKIRK.  93 

him.  "  I  send  for  you,"  said  he,  "  to  give  you  the  blessing  of 
a  true  Scot  and  a  Christian.  May  all  who  are  here  in  thy 
blessed  presence,  Redeemer  of  mankind,"  cried  he,  looking 
up  with  a  supernatural  brightness  in  his  eye,  "  die  as  I  do, 
rather  than  survive  to  see  Scotland  enslaved  !  But,  oh  !  may 
they  rather  long  live  under  that  liberty,  perpetuated,  which 
Wallace  has  again  given  to  his  country  !  Peaceful  will  then  be 
their  last  moments  on  earth,  and  full  of  joy  their  entrance 
into  heaven  ! "  His  eyes  closed  as  the  concluding  word  died 
upon  his  tongue.  Lady  Ruthven  looked  intently  on  him  ;  she 
bent  her  face  to  his,  but  he  breathed  no  more  ;  and,  with  a  fee- 
ble cry,  she  fell  back  in  a  swoon. 

The  soul  of  the  veteran  earl  was  indeed  fled.  The  countess 
was  taken  shrieking  out  of  the  apartment,  but  Wallace,  Ed- 
win, and  Murray  remained  kneeling  around  the  corse.  An- 
thems for  the  departed  were  raised  over  the  body,  and  when 
they  concluded,  the  priests  throwing  over  it  a  cloud  of  incense, 
the  mourners  withdrew  and  separated  to  their  chambers. 

By  daybreak  Wallace  met  Murray  by  appointment  in  the 
cloisters.  The  remains  of  his  beloved  father  had  been  brought 
from  Dunipacis  to  the  convent,  and  Murray  now  prepared  to 
take  them  to  Bothwell  castle,  there  to  be  interred,  in  the 
cemetery  of  his  ancestors.  Wallace,  who  had  approved  his 
design,  entered  with  him  into  the  solitary  court-yard,  where 
the  war-carriage  stood  which  was  to  convey  the  deceased  earl 
to  Clydesdale.  Four  soldiers  of  his  clan  brought  the  corse  of 
their  lord  from  a  cell  and  laid  him  on  his  martial  bier.  His 
bed  was  the  sweet  heather  of  Falkirk,  spread  by  the  hands  of 
his  son.  As  Wallace  laid  the  venerable  chiefs  sword  and  hel- 
met on  his  bier,  he  covered  the  whole  with  the  flag  he  had  torn 
from  the  standard  of  England  in  the  last  victory.  "None 
other  shroud  is  worthy  of  thy  virtues  !  "  cried  he ;  "  dying  for 
Scotland,  thus  let  the  memorial  of  her  glory  be  the  witness  of 
thine  ! " 

"  Oh,  my  friend ! "  answered  Murray,  looking  on  his  chief 
with  a  smile  which  beamed  the  fairer  shining  through  sorrow, 
"  thy  gracious  spirit  can  divest  even  death  of  its  gloom  !  My 
father  yet  lives  in  his  fame !  " 

"And  in  a  better  existence,  too,"  gently  replied  Wallace, 
"else  the  earth's  fame  were  an  empty  sound  it  could  not  com- 
fort." 

The  solemn  procession,  with  Murray  at  its  head,  departed 
towards  the  valleys  of  Clydesdale,  and  Wallace  returned  to  his 
chamber.  Two  hours  before  noon  he  was  summoned  by  the 


94  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

tolling  of  the  chapel  bell.  The  Earl  of  Bute  and  his  dearer 
friend  were  to  be  laid  in  their  last  bed.  With  a  spirit  that 
did  not  murmur  he  saw  the  earth  closed  over  both  graves ; 
but  at  Graham's  he  lingered  ;  and  when  the  funeral  stone  shut 
even  the  sod  that  covered  him  from  his  eyes,  with  his 
sword's  point  he  drew  on  the  surface  these  memorable  words  : 

"  Mente  manuque  potens,  et  Walli  fidus  Achates, 
Conditus  hie  Gramus,  bello  interfectus  ab  Anglis."  ' 

While  he  yet  leaned  on  the  stone,  which  gently  gave  way  to 
the  registering  pen  of  friendship,  to  be  more  deeply  engraved 
afterwards,  a  monk  approached  him,  attended  by  a  shepherd 
boy.  At  the  sound  of  steps  Wallace  looked  up.  "  This  young 
man,"  said  the  father,  "  brings  despatches  to  the  lord  regent." 
Wallace  rose,  and  the  youth  presented  his  packet.  Withdraw- 
ing to  a  little  distance,  he  broke  the  seal  and  read  to  this  effect : 

"  My  father  and  myself  are  in  the  castle  of  Durham,  and 
both  under  an  arrest.  We  are  to  remain  so  till  our  arrival  in 
London  renders  its  sovereign,  in  his  own  opinion,  more  secure. 
When  there  you  shall  hear  from  me  again.  Meanwhile  be  on 
your  guard  :  the  gold  of  Edward  has  found  its  way  into  your 
councils.  Beware  of  them  who,  with  patriotism  in  their 
mouths,  are  purchased  to  betray  you  and  their  country  into  the 
hands  of  your  enemy.  Truest,  noblest,  best  of  Scots,  fare- 
well !  I  must  not  write  more  explicitly. 

"P.S.  —  The  messenger  who  takes  this  is  a  simple  border 
shepherd ;  he  knows  not  whence  comes  the  packet ;  hence  he 
cannot  bring  an  answer." 

Wallace  closed  the  letter,  and  putting  gold  into  the  shep- 
herd's hand  left  the  chapel.  In  passing  through  the  cloisters 
lie  met  Kuthven  just  returned  from  Stirling,  whither  he  had 
gone  to  inform  the  chiefs  of  the  council  of  the  regent's 
arrival.  "  When  I  summoned  them  to  the  council-hall,"  con- 
tinued Lord  Euthven,  "  and  told  them  "you  had  not  only 
defeated  Edward  on  the  Carron,  but  in  so  doing  had  gained  a 
double  victory  over  a  foreign  usurper  and  domestic  traitors, 

1  These  lines  may  be  translated  thus  : 

Here  lies 

The  powerful  in  mind  and  body,  the  friend  of  "Wallace; 
Graham,  faithful  unto  death  !  slain  in  battle  by  the  English. 

The  lamentations  which  Sir  William  Wallace  made  over  the  body  of  Sir  John  Graham, 
his  faithful  friend  and  Scotland's,  are  recorded  by  several  historians,  and  this  epitaph  i* 
etill  extant  on  that  warrior's  grave  in  the  church  of  Fulkirk. 

Not  far  from  Graham's  tomb  is  buried  John  Stewart,  Lord  of  Bute,  brother  to  the 
Steward  of  Scotland,  from  whom  the  royal  family  of  that  name  descended.  His  grave  ia 
marked  by  a  plain  stone  without  any  inscription.—  (1809.) 


CHURCH    OF   FALKIRK.  95 

instead  of  the  usual  open-hearted  gratulations  on  such  a  com- 
munication, a  low  whisper  murmured  through  the  hall,  and 
the  young  Badenoch,  unworthy  of  his  patriotic  father,  rising 
from  his  seat,  gave  utterance  to  so  many  invectives  against 
you,  our  country's  soul  and  arm  !  I  should  deem  it  treason 
even  to  repeat  them.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  out  of  five  hun- 
dred chiefs  and  chieftains  who  were  present,  not  one  of  those 
parasites,  who  used  to  fawn  on  you  a  week  ago,  and  make  the 
love  of  honest  men  seem  doubtful,  now  breathes  one  word  for 
Sir  William  Wallace.  But  this  ingratitude,  vile  as  it  is,  I  bore 
with  patience,  till  Badenoch,  growing  in  insolency,  declared 
that  late  last  night  despatches  had  arrived  from  the  Kin^  Of 
France  to  the  regent ;  and  that  he  (in  right  of  his  birth, 
assuming  to  himself  that  dignity)  had  put  their  bearer,  Sir 
Alexander  Ramsay,  under  confinement  for  having  persisted  to 
dispute  his  authority  to  withhold  them  from  you." 

Wallace,  who  had  listened  in  silence,  drew  a  deep  sigh  as 
Ruthven  concluded,  and  in  that  profound  breath  exclaimed, 
"  God  must  be  our  .fortress  still ;  must  save  Scotland  from 
this  gangrene  in  her  heart.  Ramsay  shall  be  released,  but  I 
must  first  meet  these  violent  men.  And.  it  must  be  alone,  my 
lord,"  continued  he ;  "  you  and  our  coadjutors  may  wait  my 
return  at  the  city  gates ;  but  the  sword  of  Edward,  if  need  be, 
shall  defend  me  against  his  gold."  As  he  spoke  he  laid  his 
hand  on  the  jewelled  weapon  which  hung  at  his  side,  and 
which  he  had  wrested  from  that  monarch  in  the  last  conflict. 

Aware  that  this  treason  aimed  at  him  would  strike  his 
country  unless  timely  warded  off,  he  took  his  resolution,  and 
requesting  Ruthven  not  to  communicate  to  any  one  what  had 
passed,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  struck  into  the  road  to 
Stirling.  He  took  the  plume  from  his  crest,  and  closing  his 
visor,  enveloped  himself  in  his  plaid,  that  the  people  might  not 
know  him  as  he  went  along.  But  casting  away  his  cloak,  and 
unclasping  his  helmet  at  the  door  of  the  keep,  he  entered  the 
council-hall,  openly  and  abruptly.  By  an  instantaneous  im- 
pulse of  respect,  which  even  the  base  pay  to  virtue,  almost 
every  man  arose  at  his  appearance.  He  bowed  to  the 
assembly,  and  walked  with  a  composed,  but  severe,  air  up  to 
his  station  at  the  head  of  the  room.  Young  Badenoch  stood 
there ;  and  as  Wallace  approached,  he  fiercely  grasped  his 
sword.  "  Proud  upstart !"  cried  he  ;  "betrayer  of  my  father ! 
set  a  foot  farther  towards  this  chair,  and  the  chastisement  of 
every  arm  in  this  council  shall  fall  on  you  for  your  presump- 
tion ! " 


96  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  It  is  not  in  the  arms  of  thousands  to  put  me  from  my 
right,"  replied  Wallace,  calmly  putting  forth  his  hand  and 
drawing  the  regent's  chair  towards  him. 

"  Will  ye  bear  this  ?  "  cried  Badenoch,  stamping  with  his 
foot,  and  plucking  forth  his  sword.  "  Is  the  man  to  exist  who 
thus  braves  the  assembled  lords  of  Scotland  ?  "  While  speak- 
ing he  made  a  desperate  lunge  at  the  regent's  breast.  Wallace 
caught  the  blade  in  his  hand,  and  wrenching  it  from  his  intem- 
perate adversary,  broke  it  into  shivers  and  cast  the  pieces  at 
his  feet ;  then  turning  resolutely  towards  the  chiefs,  who  stood 
appalled  and  looking  on  each  other,  he  said,  u  I,  your  duly 
elected  regent,  left  you  only  a  few  days  ago  to  repel  the 
enemy  whom  the  treason  of  Lord  March  would  have  intro- 
duced into  these  very  walls.  Many  brave  chiefs  followed  me 
to  that  field,  and  more,  whom  I  see  now,  loaded  me  as  I 
passed  with  benedictions.  Portentous  was  the  day  of  Falkirk 
to  Scotland.  Then  did  the  mighty  fall  and  the  heads  of  coun- 
sel perish.  But  treason  was  the  parricide!  The  late 'Lord 
Badenoch  stood  his  ground  like  a  true  Scot ;  but  Athol  and 
Buchan  deserted  to  Edward."  While  speaking  he  turned 
towards  the  furious  son  of  Badenoch,  who,  gnashing  his  teeth 
in  impotent  rage,  stood  listening  to  the  inflaming  whispers  of 
Macdougal  of  Lorn.  "Young  chief,"  cried  he,  "  from  their 
treachery  date  the  fate  of  your  brave  father  and  the  whole 
of  our  grievous  loss  of  that  day.  But  the  wide  destruction 
has  been  avenged  ;  more  than  chief  for  chief  have  perished  in 
the  Southron  ranks,  and  thousands  of  the  lowlier  sort  now 
swell  the  banks  of  Carron.  Edward  himself  fell  wounded  by 
my  arm,  and  was  borne  by  his  flying  squadrons  over  the 
wastes  of  Northumberland.  Thus  have  I  returned  to  you 
with  my  duties  achieved  in  a  manner  worthy  of  your  regent. 
What,  then,  means  the  arrest  of  my  ambassador  ?  what  this 
silence,  when  the  representative  of  your  power  is  insulted  to 
your  face  ?  " 

"  They  mean,"  cried  Badenoch,  "  that  my  words  are  the 
utterance  of  their  sentiments."  —  "  They  mean,"  cried  Lorn, 
"  that  the  prowess  of  the  haughty  boaster  whom  their  intoxi- 
cated gratitude  raised  from  the  dust  shall  not  avail  him 
against  the  indignation  of  a  nation  over  which  he  dares  to 
arrogate  a  right." 

"  Mean  they  what  they  will,"  returned  Wallace,  "  they  can- 
not dispossess  me  of  the  rights  with  which  assembled  Scotland 
invested  me  on  the  plain  of  Stirling.  And  again  I  demand  by 
what  authority  do  you  and  they  presume  to  imprison  my 


CHURCH    OF   FALKIRK.  97 

officer,  and  withhold  from  me  the  papers  sent  by  the  king  of 
France  to  the  regent  of  Scotland  ?  " 

"  By  an  authority  that  we  will  maintain,"  replied  Badenoch  ; 
"  by  the  right  of  my  royal  blood,  and  by  the  sword  of  every 
brave  Scot  who  spurns  at  the  name  of  Wallace ! "  —  "  And  as 
a  proof  that  we  speak  not  more  than  we  act,"  cried  Lorn, 
making  a  sign  to  the  chiefs,  "  you  are  our  prisoner ! "  Many 
weapons  were  instantly  unsheathed,  and  their  bearers,  hurry- 
ing  to  the  side  of  Badenoch  and  Lorn,  attempted  to  lay 
hands  on  Wallace ;  but  he,  drawing  the  sword  of  Edward, 
with  a  sweep  of  his  valiant  arm  that  made  the  glittering  blade 
seem  a  brand  of  fire,  set  his  back  against  the  wall  and  ex- 
claimed, "  He  that  first  makes  a  stroke  at  me  shall  find  his 
death  on  this  Southron  steel !  This  sword  I  made  the  puis- 
sant arm  of  the  usurper  yield  to  me ;  and  this  sword  shall 
defend  the  regent  of  Scotland  against  his  ungrateful  country- 
men." 

The  chieftains  who  pressed  on  him  recoiled  at  these  words ; 
but  their  leaders,  Badenoch  and  Lorn,  waved  them  forward 
with  vehement  exhortations.  "  Desist,  young  men,"  contin- 
ued he  ;  "  provoke  me  not  beyond  my  bearing.  With  a  single 
blast  of  my  bugle  I  could  surround  this  building  with  a  band 
of  warriors  who  at  sight  of  their  chief  being  thus  assaulted 
would  lay  this  tumult  in  blood.  Let  me  pass,  or  abide  the 
consequence ! " 

"  Through  my  breast,  then  ! "  exclaimed  Badenoch ;  "  for 
with  my  consent  you  pass  not  here  but  on  your  bier.  What  is 
in  the  arm  of  a  single  man,"  cried  he  to  the  lords,  "  that  ye 
cannot  fall  on  him  at  once  and  cut  him  down  ?  " 

"I  would  not  hurt  a  son  of  the  virtuous  Badenoch,"  re- 
turned  Wallace  ;  "  but  his  life  be  on  your  heads,"  said  he, 
turning  to  the  chiefs,  "  if  one  of  you  point  a  sword  to  impede 
•my  passage."  —  "  And  wilt  thou  dare  it,  usurper  of  my  power 
and  honors  ?  "  cried  Badenoch.  "  Lorn,  stand  by  your  friend  ! 
All  here  who  are  true  to  the  Cummin  and  Macdougal  hem  in 
the  tyrant." 

Many  a  traitor  hand  now  drew  forth  its  dagger,  and  the 
intemperate  Badenoch,  drunk  with  choler  and  mad  ambition, 
snatching  a  sword  from  one  of  his  accomplices,  made  another 
violent  plunge  at  Wallace  ;  but  its  metal  flew  in  splinters  on 
the  guard-stroke  of  the  regent,  and  left  Badenoch  at  his 
mercy.  "  Defend  me,  chieftains,  or  I  am  slain  !  "  cried  he. 
But  Wallace  did  not  let  his  hand  follow  its  advantage ;  with 
the  dignity  of  conscious  desert  he  turned  from  the  van- 
VoL.n.-T 


98  THE    SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

quished,  and  casting  the  enraged  Lorn  from  him,  who  had 
thrown  himself  in  his  way,  he  exclaimed,  "  Scots  !  that  arm 
will  wither  which  dares  to  point  its  steel  at  me."  The  press- 
ing crowd,  struck  in  astonishment,  parted  before  him  as  they 
would  have  done  in  the  path  of  a  thunderbolt,  and,  unim- 
peded, he  passed  to  the  door. 

That  their  regent  had  entered  the  keep  was  soon  rumored 
through  the  city  ;  and  when  he  appeared  from  the  gate  he  was 
hailed  by  the  acclamations  of  the  people.  He  found  his  em- 
pire again  in  the  hearts  of  the  lowly.  They  whom  he  had  re- 
stored to  their  cottages  knelt  to  him  in  the  streets  and  called 
for  blessings  on  his  name ;  while  they,  oh,  blasting  touch  of 
envy !  whom  he  had  restored  to  castles  and  elevated  from  a 
state  of  vassalage  to  the  power  of  princes,  they  raised  against 
him  that  very  power,  to  lay  him  in  the  dust. 

Now  it  was  that  when  surrounded  by  the  grateful  citizens 
of  Stirling  (whom  it  would  have  been  as  easy  for  him  to  have 
inflamed  to  the  massacre  of  Badenoch  and  his  council  as  to 
have  lifted  his  bugle  to  his  lips)  that  he  blew  the  summons 
for  his  captains.  Every  man  in  the  keep  now  flew  to  arms, 
expecting  that  Wallace  was  returning  upon  them  with  the 
host  he  had  threatened.  In  a  few  minutes  the  Lord  Ruthven 
with  his  brave  followers  entered  the  inner  ballium  gate. 
Wallace  smiled  proudly  as  they  drew  near.  "My  lords," 
said  he,  "  you  come  to  witness  the  last  act  of  my  delegated 
power.  Sir  Alexander  Scrymgeour,  enter  into  that  hall,  which 
was  once  the  seat  of  council,  and  tell  the  violent  men  who  fill 
it  that  for  the  peace  of  Scotland,  which  I  value  more  than  my 
life,  I  allow  them  to  stand  unpunished  of  their  offence  against 
me.  But  the  outrage  they  have  committed  on  the  freedom  of 
one  of  her  bravest  sons  I  will  not  pardon,  unless  he  be  imme 
di^tely  set  at  liberty.  Let  them  deliver  to  you  Sir  Alexandei 
Eamsay,  and  then  I  permit  them  to  hear  my  final  decision.  If 
they  refuse  obedience  they  are  all  my  prisoners,  and,  but  for 
my  pity  on  their  blindness,  should  perish  by  the  laws." 

Eager  to  open  the  prison  door  for  his  friend  Ramsay,  and 
little  suspecting  to  what  he  was  calling  the  insurgents,  Scrym- 
geour hastened  to  obey.  Lorn  and  Badenoch  gave  him  a 
very  rough  reception,  uttering  such  rebellious  defiance  of  the 
regent  that  the  brave  standard-bearer  lost  all  patience,  and 
denounced  the  immediate  deaths  of  the  whole  refractory 
assembly.  "The  court-yard,"  cried  he,  "is  armed  with  thou- 
sands of  the  regent's  followers ;  his  foot  is  on  your  necks  ; 
obey,  or  this  will  be  a  more  grievous  day  for  Scotland  than 


CHURCH    OF   FALKIRK.  99 

even  that  of  Falkirk,  for  the  castle  of  Stirling  will  run  with 
Scottish  blood.  At  this  menace  Badenoch  became  more  en- 
raged, and  Scrymgeour,  seeing  no  chance  of  prevailing  by 
argument,  sent  a  messenger  to  privately  tell  Wallace  the  re- 
sult. The  regent  immediately  placed  himself  at  the  head  of 
twenty  men,  and,  reentering  the  keep,  went  directly  to  the 
warder,  whom  he  ordered  on  his  allegiance  to  the  laws  to  de- 
liver Sir  Alexander  Kamsay  into  his  hands.  He  was  obeyed, 
and  returned  with  bis  recovered  chieftain  to  the  platform. 
When  Scrymgeour  was  apprised  of  the  knight's  release,  he 
turned  to  Badenoch,  with  whom  he  was  still  contending  in 
furious  debate,  and  demanded,  "  AVill  you  or  will  you  not 
attend  me  to  the  regent  ?  He  of  you  all,"  added  he,  address- 
ing the  chieftains,  "who  in  this  simple  duty  disobeys  shall 
receive  from  him  the  severer  doom." 

Badenoch  and  Lorn,  affecting  to  deride  this  menace,  replied 
they  would  not  for  an  empire  do  the  usurper  the  homage  of  a 
moment's  voluntary  attention;  but  if  any  of  their  followers 
chose  to  view  the  mockery,  they  were  at  liberty.  A  very  few, 
and  those  of  the  least  turbulent  spirits,  ventured  forth.  They 
began  to  fear,  having  embarked  in  a  desperate  cause,  and  by 
their  present  acquiescence  were  willing  to  deprecate  the  wrath 
of  Wallace,  while  thus  assured  of  not  exciting  the  resentment 
of  Badenoch. 

When  Wallace  looked  around  him  and  saw  the  space  before 
the  keep  filled  with  armed  men  and  citizens,  he  ascended  an 
elevated  piece  of  ground  which  rose  a  little  to  the  left,  and 
waving  his  hand  in  token  that  he  intended  to  speak,  a  pro- 
found silence  took  the  place  of  the  buzz  of  admiration,  grati- 
tude, and  discontent.  He  then  addressed  the  people  :  "  Brother 
soldiers,  Friends,  and  —  am  I  so  to  distinguish  Scots?  —  Ene- 
mies ! "  At  this  word  a  loud  cry  of  "  Perish  all  who  are  the 
enemies  of  our  glorious  regent ! "  penetrated  to  the  inmost 
chambers  of  the  citadel. 

Believing  that  the  few  of  his  partisans  who  had  ventured 
out  were  falling  under  the  vengeance  of  Wallace,  Badenoch, 
with  a  brandished  weapon,  and  followed  by  the  rest,  sallied 
towards  the  door ;  but  there  he  stopped,  for  he  saw  his  friends 
standing  unmolested. 

Wallace  proceeded,  and  with  calm  dignity  announced  the 
hatred  that  was  now  poured  upon  him  by  a  large  part  of  that 
nobility  who  had  been  so  eager  to  invest  him  with  the  high 
office  he  then  held.  "  Though  they  have  broken  their  oaths," 
cried  he,  "  I  have  fulfilled  mine.  They  vowed  to  me  all  lawful 


100  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

obedience.  I  swore  to  free  Scotland  or  to  die.  Every  castle  in 
this  realm  is  restored  to  its  ancient  lord ;  every  fortress  is 
filled  with  a  native  garrison ;  the  sea  is  covered  with  our 
ships  ;  and  the  kingdom,  one  in  itself,  sits  secure  behind  her 
well-defended  bulwarks.  Such  have  I,  through  the  strength 
of  the  Almighty  arm,  made  Scotland.  Beloved  by  a  grateful 
people,  I  could  wield  half  her  power  to  the  destruction  of  the 
rest ;  but  I  would  not  pluck  one  stone  out  of  the  building  I 
have  raised.  To-day  I  deliver  up  my  commission,  since  its 
design  is  accomplished.  I  resign  the  regency."  As  he  spoke 
he  took  off  his  helmet  and  stood  uncovered  before  the  people. 

"No,  no!"  seemed  the  voice  from  every  lip;  "we  will  ac- 
knowledge no  other  power,  we  will  obey  no  other  leader." 

Wallace  expressed  his  sense  of  their  attachment ;  but  re- 
peating to  them  that  he  had  fulfilled  the  end  of  his  office  by 
setting  them  free,  he  explained  that  his  retaining  it  was  no 
longer  necessary.  "  Should  I  remain  your  regent,"  continued 
he,  "  the  country  would  be  involved  in  ruinous  dissensions. 
The  majority  of  your  nobles  now  find  a  vice  in  the  virtue  they 
once  extolled  ;  and  seeing  its  power  no  longer  needful,  seek  to 
destroy  my  upholders  with  myself.  I  therefore  remove  the 
cause  of  contention.  I  quit  the  regency,  and  I  bequeath  your 
liberty  to  the  care  of  your  chiefs.  But,  should  it  be  again  in 
danger,  remember  that  while  life  breathes  in  this  heart,  the 
spirit  of  William  Wallace  will  be  with  you  still." 

With  these  words  he  descended  the  mound  and  mounted  his 
horse,  amidst  the  cries  and  tears  of  the  populace.  They  clung 
to  his  garments  as  he  rode  along;  and  the  women,  with  their 
children,  throwing  themselves  on  their  knees  in  his  path,  im- 
plored him  not  to  leave  them  to  the  inroads  of  a  ravager  ;  not 
to  abandon  them  to  the  tyranny  of  their  own  lords,  who,  un- 
restrained by  a  king  or  a  regent  like  himself,  would  soon  sub- 
vert his  good  laws,  and  reign  despots  over  every  district  in  the 
country.  Wallace  answered  their  entreaties  with  the  lan- 
guage of  encouragement,  adding  that  he  was  not  their  prince, 
to  lawfully  maintain  a  disputed  power  over  the  legitimate 
chiefs  of  the  land.  "  But,"  he  said,  "  a  rightful  sovereign  may 
yet  be  yielded  to  your  prayers ;  and  to  procure  that  blessing, 
daughters  of  Scotland,  night  and  day  invoke  the  Giver  of  every 
good  gift." 

When  Wallace  and  his  weeping  train  separated  at  the  foot  of 
Falkirk  hill  he  was  met  by  his  veterans  of  Lanark,  who,  hav- 
ing heard  of  what  had  passed  in  the  citadel,  advanced  to  him 
with  one  voice  to  declare  that  they  never  would  fight  under 


THE    MONASTERY.  101 

any  other  commander.  "  Wherever  you  are,  my  faithful 
friends,"  returned  he,  "  you  shall  still  obey  my  word."  When 
he  entered  the  monastery,  the  opposition  that  was  made  to  his 
resignation  of  the  regency  by  the  Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  Lord 
Loch-awe,  and  others,  was  so  vehement,  so  persuasive,  that  had 
not  Wallace  been  steadily  principled  not  to  involve  his  country 
in  domestic  war,  he  must  have  yielded  to  the  affectionate  elo- 
quence of  their  pleading.  But  showing  to  them  the  public 
danger  attendant  on  his  provoking  the  wild  ambition  of  the 
Cummins  and  their  multitudinous  adherents,  his  arguments, 
which  the  sober  judgments  of  his  friends  saw  conclusive,  at 
last  ended  the  debate.  He  then  rose,  saying,  "  I  have  yet  to 
perform  my  vow  to  our  lamented  Mar.  I  shall  seek  his 
daughter,  and  then,  my  brave  companions,  you  shall  hear  of 
me,  and,  I  trust,  see  me  again." 


CHAPTER   LVI. 

THE    MONASTERY. 

IT  being  Lady  Ruthven's  wish  that  the  remains  of  her 
brother  should  be  entombed  with  his  ancestors,  preparations 
were  made  for  the  mournful  cavalcade  to  set  forth  towards 
Braemar  castle.  The  countess,  hoping  that  Wallace  might 
be  induced  to  accompany  them,  did  not  long  object  to  this 
proposal,  which  Lady  Ruthven  had  enforced  with  tears. 
Had  any  one  seen  the  two,  and  been  called  upon  to  judge, 
by  their  deportment,  of  the  relationship  in  which  each  lady 
stood  to  the  deceased,  he  must  have  decided  that  the  sister 
was  the  widow.  At  the  moment  of  her  husband's  death, 
Lady  Mar  had  felt  a  shock;  but  it  was  not  that  of  sorrow 
for  her  loss,  —  she  had  long  looked  to  this  event  as  to  the 
seal  of  her  happiness,  —  it  was  the  sight  of  mortality  that 
appalled  her.  The  man  she  doted  on,  nay,  even  herself, 
must  one  day  lie  as  the  object  now  before  her  —  dead  — 
insensible  to  all  earthly  joys  or  pains ;  but  awake,  perhaps, 
fearfully  awake,  to  the  judgments  of  another  world'. 
This  conviction  caused  her  shrieks  when  she  saw  Lord 
Mar  expire.  But  the  impression  was  evanescent.  Every 
obstacle  between  her  and  Wallace  she  now  believed  removed. 
Her  husband  was  dead ;  Helen  was  carried  away  by  a  man 
devotedly  enamoured  of  her,  and  most  probably  was  at  that 


102  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

time  his  wife.  The  spectres  of  conscience  passed  from  hei 
eyes;  she  no  longer  thought  of  death  and  judgment,  and, 
under  a  pretence  that  her  feelings  could  not  bear  the  sight  of 
her  husband's  bier,  she  determined  to  seclude  herself  in  her 
own  chamber  till  the  freshness  of  Wallace's  grief  for  .  his 
friend  should  have  passed  away.  But  when  she  heard  from 
the  indignant  Edwin  of  the  rebellious  conduct  of  the  young 
Lord  Badenoch,  and  that  the  regent  had  abdicated,  her  con- 
sternation superseded  all  caution.  "  I  will  soon  humble  that 
proud  boy/'  exclaimed  she,  "  and  let  him  know  that  in  op- 
posing the  elevation  of  Sir  William  Wallace  he  treads  down 
his  own  interest.  You  are  beloved  by  the  regent,  Edwin," 
cried  she,  interrupting  herself,  and  clasping  his  hand  with  ear- 
nestness ;  "  teach  his  enthusiastic  heart  the  true  interests  of 
his  country.  I  am  the  first  woman  of  the  house  of  Cum- 
min, and  is  not  that  family  the  most l  powerful  in  the  king- 
dom ?  By  the  adherence  of  one  branch  to  Edward  the 
battle  of  Falkirk  was  lost;  by  the  rebellion  of  another,  the 
regent  of  Scotland  is  obliged  to  relinquish  that  dignity.  It 
is  in  my  power  to  move  the  whole  race  at  my  will ;  and  if 
Wallace  would  mingle  his  blood  with  theirs,  would  espouse 
me  (an  overture  which  the  love  I  bear  my  country  impels  me 
to  make),  every  nerve  would  then  be  strained  to  promote  the 
elevation  of  their  nearest  kinswoman.  Wallace  would  reign 
in  Scotland,  and  the  whole  land  lie  at  peace." 

Edwin  eyed  her  with  astonishment  while  she  spoke.  All 
her  late  conduct  to  his  cousin  Helen,  to  his  uncle,  and  to 
Wallace  was  now  explained,  and  he  saw  in  her  flushed 
cheek  that  it  was  not  the  patriot  who  desired  this  match,  but 
the  enamoured  woman. 

"  You  do  not  answer  me  ?  "  said  she ;  "  have  you  any  appre- 
hension that  Sir  William  Wallace  would  reject  the  hand 
which  would  give  him  a  crown  ?  which  would  dispense  happi- 
ness to  many  thousand  people  ?  " 

" No,"  replied  he ;  "I  believe  that  much  as  he  is  devoted 
to  the  memory  of  her  whom  alone  he  can  ever  love,  could  he 
purchase  true  happiness  to  Scotland  by  the  sacrifice,  he  would 
espouse  any  virtuous  woman  who  could  bring  him  so  blest  a 
dowry.  But  in  your  case,  my  honored  aunt,  I  can  see  no 
probability  of  such  a  consequence.  In  the  first  place,  I  know, 

1  The  family  of  Cummin  was  so  powerful  and  numerous  that  an  incredible  number  of 
chieftains  of  that  name  attended  the  first  Parliament  which  Robert  I.  held  at  Dun- 
staffnage  castle.  The  relationship  between  the  heiress  of  Strathearn  and  that  family 
was  very  near',  her  paternal  grandmother  having  been  the  daughter  of  a  Lord  Bade- 
noch.  —  (1809.) 


THE    MONASTERY.  103 

that,  now  the  virtuous  Earl  of  Badenoch  is  no  more,  he  neither 
respects  nor  fears  the  Cummins,  and  that  he  would  scorn  to  pur- 
chase a  crown,  or  even  the  people's  happiness,  by  baseness  in 
himself.  To  rise  by  their  means,  who,  you  have  seen,  will  at  any 
time  immolate  all  that  is  sacred  to  man  to  their  own  caprice 
or  fancied  interests,  would  be  unworthy  of  him ;  therefore  I 
am  sure,  if  you  wish  to  marry  Sir  William  Wallace,  you  must 
not  urge  the  use  he  may  make  of  the  Cummins  as  an  argu- 
ment. He  need  not  stoop  to  cajole  the  men  he  may  command. 
Did  he  not  drive  the  one-half  of  their  clan,  with  the  English 
host  to  boot,  to  seek  any  shelter  from  his  vengeance  ?  And 
for  them  in  the  citadel — had  he  chosen  to  give  the  word  they 
would  now  be  all  numbered  with  the  dust.  Aunt,'  he  has  a 
divine  Master,  whose  example  he  follows,  though  in  deep 
humility.  He  lays  down  his  power ;  it  is  not  taken  from  him. 
Earthly  crowns  are  dross  to  him  who  looks  for  a  heavenly 
one.  Therefore,  honored  lady,  believe  it  no  longer  necessary 
to  wound  your  delicacy  by  offering  him  a  hand  which  cannot 
produce  the  good  you  meditate." 

The  complexion  of  the  countess  varied  a  thousand  times 
during  this  answer.  Her  reason  assented  to  many  parts  of  it, 
but  the  passion  she  could  not  acknowledge  to  her  nephew 
urged  her  to  persist.  "  You  may  be  right,  Edwin,"  she 
replied,  "  but  still,  as  there  is  nothing  very  repugnant  in  me, 
the  project  is  surely  worth  trying.  At  any  rate,  even  setting 
the  Cummins  aside,  a  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  Strath- 
earn  by  allying  your  noble  friend  to  every  illustrious  house  in 
the  kingdom,  would  make  his  interest  theirs;  and  all  must 
unite  in  retaining  to  him  the  regency.  Scotland  will  be 
wrecked  should  he  leave  the  helm.  And,  sweet  Edwin,  though 
your  young  heart  is  yet  unacquainted  with  the  strange  in- 
consistencies of  the  tenderest  passion,  I  must  whisper  you 
that  your  friend  will  never  be  happy  till  he  again  live  in  the 
bosom  of  domestic  affection." 

"  Ah  !  but  where  is  he  to  find  it  ?  "  cried  Edwin.  "  What 
Vill  ever  restore  his  Marion  to  his  arms  ?  " 

"  I,"  cried  she ;  "  I  will  be  more  than  ever  Marion  was  to 
him;  she  knew  not,  oh,  she  could  not,  the  boundless  love 
that  fills  my  heart  for  him  ! "  Edwin's  blushes  at  this  wild 
declaration  told  her  how  far  she  had  betrayed  herself.  Sha 
attempted  to  palliate  what  she  no  longer  could  conceal,  and 
covering  her  face  in  her  hand,  exclaimed,  "  You,  who  love  Sir 
William  Wallace,  cannot  be  surprised  that  all  who  adore 
human  excellence  should  participate  in  the  sentiment.  How 


104  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

could  I  see  him,  the  benefactor  of  my  family,  the  blessing  to 
all  Scotland,  and  not  love  him  ?  " 

"  True/'  replied  Edwin,  "  but  not  as  a  wife  would  love  her 
husband  —  you  were  married.  And  was  it  possible  you 
could  feel  thus  when  my  uncle  lived  !  So  strong  a  passion 
cannot  have  grown  in  your  breast  since  he  died ;  for  surely 
love  should  not  enter  a  widow's  heart  at  the  side  of  an  un- 
buried  husband." 

"  Edwin,"  replied  she,  "  you,  who  never  felt  the  throbs  of 
this  tyrant,  judge  with  a  severity  you  will  one  day  regret. 
When  you  love  and  struggle  with  a  passion  that  drinks  your 
very  life,  you  will  pity  Joanna  of  Mar,  and  forgive  her." 

"  I  pity  you  now,  aunt,"  replied  he  ;  "  but  you  bewilder  me. 
I  cannot  understand  the  possibility  of  a  virtuous  married 
woman  suffering  any  passion  of  this  kind  to  get  such  domina- 
tion over  her  as  to  cause  her  one  guilty  sigh.  For  guilty 
must  every  wish  be  that  militates  against  the  duty  of  her 
marriage  vow.  Surely  love  comes  not  in  a  whirlwind  to  seize 
the  soul  at  once,  but  grows  by  degrees,  according  to  the  devel- 
opment of  the  virtues  of  the  object  and  the  freedom  we  give 
ourselves  in  their  contemplation,  —  and,  if  it  be  virtue  that 
you  love  in  Sir  William  Wallace,  had  you  not  virtue  in  your 
noble  husband  ?  " 

The  countess  perceived  by  the  remarks  of  Edwin  that  he 
was  deeper  read  in  the  human  heart  than  she  had  suspected  ; 
that  he  was  neither  ignorant  of  the  feelings  of  the  passion  nor 
of  what  ought  to  be  its  source  ;  and,  therefore,  with  a  deep 
blush,  she  replied,  "  Think  for  a  moment  before  you  condemn 
me.  I  acknowledge  every  good  quality  that  your  uncle  pos- 
sessed ;  but,  oh,  Edwin !  he  had  frailties  that  you  know  not 
of,  —  frailties  that  reduced  me  to  be  what  the  world  never  saw 
—  the  most  unhappy  of  women."  Edwin  turned  pale  at  this 
charge  against  his  uncle,  and  while  he  forbore  to  draw  aside 
the  veil  which  covered  the  sacred  dead,  little  did  he  think  that 
the  artful  woman  meant  a  frailty  in  which  she  had  equally 
shared,  and  the  consequences  of  which  dangerous  vanity  had* 
constrained  her  to  become  his  wife.  She  proceeded :  "  I  mar- 
ried your  uncle  when  I  was  a  girl,  and  knew  not  that  I  had  a 
heart.  I  saw  Wallace,  his  virtues  stole  me  from  myself,  and 
I  found  —  In  short,  Edwin,  your  uncle  became  of  too  advanced 
an  age  to  sympathize  with  my  younger  heart.  How  could  I 
then  defend  myself  against  the  more  congenial  soul  of  your 
friend  ?  He  was  reserved  during  Mar's  life,  but  he  did  not 
repulse  me  with  unkindness  j  I  therefore  hope,  and  do  you,  my 


THE    MONASTERY.  105 

Edwin,  gently  influence  him  in  my  favor,  and  I  will  forever 
bless  you." 

"  Aunt,"  answered  he,  looking  at  her  attentively,  "  can  you 
without  displeasure  hear  me  speak  a  few  perhaps  ungrateful 
truths  ?  " 

11  Say  what  you  will,"  said  she,  trembling,  "  only  be  my  ad- 
vocate with  the  noblest  of  human  beings,  and  I  can  take  naught 
amiss." 

"  Lady  Mar,"  resumed  he,  "  I  answer  you  with  unqualified 
sincerity,  because  I  love  you,  and  venerate  the  memory  of  my 
uncle,  whose  frailties,  whatever  they  might  be,  were  visible  to 
you  alone.  I  answer  you  with  sincerity  because  I  would  spare 
you  much  future  pain,  and  Sir  William  Wallace  a  task  that 
would  pierce  him  to  the  soul.  You  confess  that  he  already 
knows  you  love  him  ;  that  he  has  received  such  demonstra- 
tions with  coldness.  Recollect  what  it  is  you  love  him  for, 
and  then  judge  if  he  could  do  otherwise.  Could  he  approve 
affections  which  a  wife  transferred  to  him  from  her  husband, 
and  that  husband  his  friend  ?  "  —  "  Ah  !  but  he  is  now  dead  !  " 
interrupted  she ;  "that  obstacle  is  removed."  —  "  But  the  other 
which  you  raised  yourself,"  replied  Edwin  ;  "  while  a  wife,  you 
showed  to  Sir  William  Wallace  that  you  could  not  only  in- 
dulge yourself  in  wishes  hostile  to  your  nuptial  faith,  but 
divulge  them  to  him.  Ah,  my  aunt,  what  could  you  look  for 
as  the  consequence  of  this  ?  My  uncle  yet  lived  when  you  did 
this,  and  that  act,  were  you  youthful  as  Hebe,  and  more  tender 
than  ever  was  fabled  of  the  queen  of  love,  I  am  sure  the  virtue 
of  Wallace  would  never  pardon.  He  never  could  pledge  his 
faith  to  one  whose  passions  had  so  far  silenced  her  sense  of 
duty  ;  and  did  he  even  love  you,  he  would  not  for  the  empire 
of  the  world  repose  his  honor  in  such  keeping." 

"Edwin,"  cried  she,  at  last  summoning  power  to  speak, 
for  during  the  latter  part  of  this  address  she  had  sat  gasping 
from  unutterable  disappointment  and  rage;  "are  you  not  afraid 
to  breathe  all  this  to  me  ?  I  have  given  you  my  confidence, 
and  do  you  abuse  it  ?  Do  you  stab  me  when  I  ask  you  to 
heal  ?  "  —  " No,  my  dear  aunt,"  replied  he  ;  "I  speak  the  truth 
to  you,  ungrateful  as  it  is,  to  prevent  you  hearing  it  in  perhaps 
a  more  painful  form  from  Wallace  himself."  —  "Oh,  no  ! "  cried 
she  with  contemptuous  haughtiness;  "he  is  a  man,  and  he 
knows  how  to  pardon  the  excesses  of  love  !  Look  around  you, 
foolish  boy,  and  see  how  many  of  our  proudest  lords  have 
united  their  fates  with  women  who  not  only  loved  them  while 
their  husbands  lived,  but  left  their  homes  and  children  to  join 


106  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

their  lovers  !  And  what  is  there  in  me,  a  princess  of  the 
crowns  of  Scotland  and  of  Norway,  a  woman  who  has  had  the 
nobles  of  both  kingdoms  at  her  feet,  and  frowned  upon  them 
all,  that  I  should  now  be  contemned  ?  Is  the  ingrate  for  whom 
alone  I  ever  felt  a  wish  of  love,  is  he  to  despise  me  for  my 
passion  ?  You  mistake,  Edwin ;  you  know  not  the  heart  of 
man."  —  "  Not  of  the  common  race  of  men,  perhaps,"  replied 
he  ;  "  but  certainly  that  of  Sir  William  Wallace.  Purity  and 
he  are  too  sincerely  one  for  personal  vanity  to  blind  his  eyes 
to  the  deformity  of  the  passion  you  describe.  And  mean  as  I 
am,  when  compared  with  him,  I  must  aver,  that  were  a  mar- 
ried woman  to  love  me,  and  seek  to  excuse  her  frailty,  I  should 
see  alone  her  contempt  of  the  principles  which  are  the  only 
impregnable  bulwarks  of  innocence,  and  shrink  from  her  as  I 
would  from  pollution."  — "  Then  you  declare  you'rself  my 
enemy,  Edwin  ?  "  —  "  No,"  replied  he  ;  "I  speak  to  you  as  a 
son ;  but  if  you  are  determined  to  avow  to  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace what  you  have  revealed  to  me,  I  shall  not  even  observe 
on  what  has  passed,  but  leave  you,  unhappy  lady,  to  the  pangs 
I  would  have  spared  you." 

He  rose.  Lady  Mar  wrung  her  hands  in  a  paroxysm  of 
conviction  that  what  he  said  was  true.  "  Then,  Edwin,  I  must 
despair  ! "  He  looked  at  her  with  pity.  "  Could  you  abhor  the 
dereliction  that  your  soul  has  thus  made  from  duty,  and  leave 
him  whom  your  unwidowed  wishes  now  pursue  to  seek  you, 
then  I  should  say  that  you  might  be  happy,  for  penitence  ap- 
peases God,  and  shall  it  not  find  grace  with  man  ?  " 

"  Blessed  Edwin ! "  cried  she,  falling  on  his  neck  and  kissing 
him ;  "  whisper  but  my  penitence  to  Wallace ;  teach  him  to 
think  I  hate  myself.  Oh !  make  me  that  in  his  eyes  which 
you  would  wish,  and  I  will  adore  you  on  my  knees  ! " 

The  door  opened  at  this  moment  and  Lord  Ruthven  entered. 
The  tears  she  was  so  profusely  shedding  on  the  bosom  of  his 
son  he  attributed  to  some  conversation  she  might  be  holding 
respecting  her  deceased  lord,  and  taking  her  hand,  he  told  her 
he  came  to  propose  her  immediate  removal  from  the  scene  of 
so  many  horrors.  "  My  dear  sister,"  said  he,  "  I  will  attend 
you  as  far  as  Perth.  After  that,  Edwin  shall  be  your  guard 
to  Braemar,  and  my  Janet  will  stay  with  you  there  till  time 
has  softened  your  griefs."  Lady  Mar  looked  at  him.  "And 
where  will  be  Sir  William  Wallace  ? "  — "  Here,"  answered 
Euthven.  "  Some  considerations,  consequent  to  his  receiving 
the  French  despatches,  will  hold  him  some  time  longer  south 
of  the  Forth."  Lady  Mar  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  and 


THE    MONASTERY.  107 

reminded  Mia  *hat  the  chiefs  in  the  citadel  had  withheld  the 
despatches. 

Lord  Ruthven  then  informed  her  that  unknown  to  Wallace 
Lord  Loch-awe  had  summoned  the  most  powerful  of  his  friends 
then  near  Stirling,  and  attended  by  them  was  carried  on  a 
litter  into  the  citadel.  It  entered  the  council-hall,  and  from 
that  bed  of  honorable  wounds  he  threatened  the  assembly 
with  instant  vengeance  from  his  troops  without,  unless  they 
would  immediately  swear  fealty  to  Wallace,  and  compel  Bade- 
noch  to  give  up  the  French  despatches.  Violent  tumults 
were  the  consequence,  but  Loch-awe's  litter  being  guarded  by 
a  double  rank  of  armed  chieftains,  and  the  keep  being  hemmed 
round  by  his  men,  prepared  to  put  to  the  sword  every  Scot 
hostile  to  the  proposition  of  their  lord,  the  insurgents  at  last 
complied,  and  forced  Badenoch  to  relinquish  the  royal  packet. 
This  effected,  Loch-awe  and  his  train  returned  to  the  monas- 
tery. Wallace  refused  to  resume  the  dignity  he  had  resigned, 
the  reinvestment  of  which  had  been  extorted  from  the  lords 
in  the  citadel.  "  No,"  said  he  to  Loch-awe ;  "  it  is  indeed  time 
that  I  should  sink  into  shades  where  I  cannot  be  found,  since 
I  am  become  a  word  of  contention  amongst  my  countrymen." 

"  He  was  not  to  be  shaken,"  continued  Ruthven ;  "  but  see- 
ing matter  in  the  French  despatches,  that  ought  to  be  answered 
without  delay,  he  yet  remains  a  few  days  at  Falkirk." 

"  Then  we  will  await  him  here,"  cried  the  countess. 

"  That  cannot  be,"  answered  Ruthven  ;  "  it  would  be  against 
ecclesiastical  law  to  detain  the  sacred  dead  so  long  from  the 
grave.  Wallace  will  doubtless  visit  Braemar;  therefore  I 
advise  that  to-morrow  you  leave  Falkirk." 

Edwin  seconded  this  counsel,  and  fearing  to  make  further 
opposition,  she  silently  acquiesced.  But  her  spirit  was  not  so 
quiescent.  At  night,  when  she  went  to  her  cell,  her  ever 
wakeful  fancy  aroused  a  thousand  images  of  alarm.  She 
remembered  the  vow  that  Wallace  had  made  —  to  seek  Helen. 
He  had  already  given  up  the  regency,  an  office  which  might 
have  detained  him  from  such  a  pursuit ;  and  might  not  a  pas- 
sion softer  than  indignation  against  the  ungrateful  chieftains 
have  dictated  this  act  ?  "  Should  he  love  Helen,  what  is  there 
not  to  fear  !  "  cried  she ;  "  and  should  he  meet  her,  I  am  un- 
done ! "  Racked  by  jealousy,  and  goaded  by  contradicting 
expectations,  she  rose  from  her  bed  and  paced  the  room  in 
wild  disorder.  One  moment  she  strained  her  mind  to  recollect 
every  gracious  look  or  word  from  him,  and  then  her  imagina- 
tion glowed  with  anticipated  delight  j  again  she  thought  of 


108  THE   SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

his  address  to  Helen,  of  his  vow  in  her  favor,  and  she  was 
driven  to  despair.  All  Edwin's  kind  admonitions  were  for- 
gotten ;  passion  alone  was  awake ;  and  forgetful  of  her  rank  . 
and  sex,  and  of  her  situation,  she  determined  to  see  Wallace, 
and  appeal  to  his  heart  for  the  last  time.  She  knew  that 
he  slept  in  an  apartment  at  the  other  end  of  the  monastery; 
and  that  she  might  pass  thither  unobserved,  she  glided  into 
an  opposite  cell  belonging  to  a  sick  monk,  and  stealing  away 
his  cloak,  threw  it  over  her  and  hurried  along  the  cloisters. 

The  chapel  doors  were  open.  In  passing,  she  saw  the  bier 
of  her  lord  awaiting  the  hour  of  its  removal,  surrounded  by 
priests  singing  anthems  for  the  repose  of  his  soul.  No  tender 
recollections,  no  remorse,  knocked  at  the  heart  of  Lady  Mar 
as  she  sped  along.  Abandoned  all  to  thoughts  of  Wallace, 
she  felt  not  that  she  had  a  soul ;  she  acknowledged  not  that 
she  had  a  hope  but  what  centred  in  the  smiles  of  the  man  she 
was  hastening  to  seek. 

His  door  was  fastened  with  a  latch ;  she  gently  opened  it, 
and  found  herself  in  his  chamber.  She  trembled,  she 
scarcely  breathed,  she  looked  around,  she  approached  his  bed, 
but  he  was  not  there.  Disappointment  palsied  her  heart,  and 
she  sunk  upon  a  chair.  "  Am  I  betrayed  ?  "  said  she  to  her- 
self. "  Has  that  youthful  hypocrite  warned  him  hence  ?  " 
And  then  again  she  thought,  "  But  how  should  Edwin  guess 
that  I  should  venture  here  ?  Oh,  no ;  my  cruel  stars  alone  are 
against  me  ! " 

She  now  determined  to  await  his  return,  and  nearly  three 
hours  she  passed  there,  enduring  all  the  torments  of  guilt  and 
misery  ;  but  he  appeared  not.  At  last,  hearing  the  matin-bell, 
she  started  up,  fearful  that  her  maids  might  discover  her 
absence.  Compelled  by  some  regard  to  reputation,  with  an 
unwilling  mind  she  left  the  shrine  of  her  idolatry,  and  once 
more  crossed  the  cloisters.  While  again  drawing  towards 
the  chapel,  she  saw  Wallace  himself  issue  from  the  door, 
supporting  on  his  bosom  the  fainting  head  of  Lady  Ruthven. 
Edwin  followed  them.  Lady  Mar  pulled  the  monk's  cowl 
over  her  face  and  withdrew  behind  a  pillar.  "  Ah  !  "  thought 
she,  "  absenting  myself  from  my  duty,  I  fled  from  thee  ! " 
She  listened  with  breathless  attention  to  what  might  be  said. 

Lord  Ruthven  met  them  at  that  instant.  "  This  night's 
watching  by  the  bier  of  her  brother,"  said  Wallace,  "  has 
worn  out  your  gentle  lady  ;  we  strove  to  support  her  through 
these  sad  vigils,  but  at  last  she  sunk."  What  Ruthven  said 
in  reply  when  he  took  his  wife  in  his  arms,  the  countess  could 


DURHAM.  109 

aot  hear ;  but  Wallace  answered,  "  I  have  not  seen  her."  —  "I 
left  her  late  in  the  evening  drowned  in  tears,  "  replied  Ruth- 
ven,  in  a  more  elevated  tone;  "I  therefore  suppose  that  in 
secret  she  offers  those  prayers  for  her  deceased  husband  which 
my  tender  Janet  pours  over  his  grave." 

"  Such  tears,"  replied  Wallace,  "  are  Heaven's  own  balm.  I 
know  they  purify  the  heart  whence  they  flow.  Yes,  and 
the  prayers  we  breathe  for  those  we  love  unite  our  souls  the 
closer  to  theirs.  Look  up,  dear  Lady  Ruthven,"  said  he,  as 
she  began  to  revive  ;  "  look  up,  and  hear  how  you  may,  while 
still  on  earth,  retain  the  society  of  your  beloved  brother. 
Seek  his  spirit  at  the  footstool  of  God.  'Tis  thus  I  live,  sister 
of  my  most  venerated  friend !  My  soul  is  ever  on  the  wing 
for  heaven,  whether  in  the  solitary  hour,  in  joy,  or  in  sorrow, 
for  there  my  treasure  lives.  " 

"  Wallace !  Wallace  ! "  cried  Lady  Ruthven,  looking  on  his 
animated  countenance  with  wondering  rapture ;  "  and  art  thou 
a  man  of  earth,  and  of  the  sword?  Oh!  rather  say  an  angel 
lent  us  here  a  little  while,  to  teach  us  to  live  and  to  die ! " 
A  glowing  blush  passed  over  the  pale  but  benign  cheek  of 
Wallace.  "  I  am  a  soldier  of  him  who  was,  indeed,  brought 
into  the  world  to  show  us,  by  his  life  and  death,  how  to  be 
virtuous  and  happy.  Know  me  by  my  life  to  be  his  follower, 
and  David  himself  wore  not  a  more  glorious  title." 

Lady  Mar,  while  she  contemplated  the  matchless  form  be- 
fore her,  exclaimed  to  herself,  "  Why  is  it  animated  by  as 
faultless  a  soul  ?  O  Wallace !  wert  thou  less  excellent,  I 
might  hope ;  but  hell  is  in  my  heart,  and  heaven  in  thine ! " 
She  tore  her  eyes  from  a  view  which  blasted  while  it  charmed 
her,  and  rushed  from  the  cloisters. 


CHAPTER   LVII. 

DURHAM. 

i 

THE  sun  rose  as  the  funeral  procession  of  the  Earl  of  Mar 
moved  from  before  the  gates  of  the  monastery  at  Falkirk. 
Lord  Ruthven  and  Edwin  mounted  their  horses.  The  maids 
of  the  two  ladies  led  them  forth  towards  the  litters  which  were 
to  convey  them  on  so  long  a  journey.  Lady  Ruthven  came 
first,  and  Wallace  placed  her  tenderly  in  her  carriage.  The 
countess  next  appeared,  clad  in  the  deep  weeds  of  widowhood. 


110  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Her  child  followed  in  the  arms  of  its  nurse.  At  sight  of  the 
innocent  babe,  whom  he  had  so  often  seen  pressed  to  the  fond 
bosom  of  the  father  it  was  now  following  to  his  grave,  tears 
rushed  into  the  eyes  of  Wallace.  Lady  Mar  hid  the  tumult  of 
her  feelings  on  the  shoulder  of  her  maid.  He  advanced  to  her 
respectfully,  and  handing  her  to  her  vehicle,  urged  her  to 
cherish  life  for  the  sake  of  her  child.  She  threw  herself  with 
increased  agitation  on  her  pillow,  and  Wallace  deeming  the 
presence  of  her  babe  the  surest  comforter,  laid  it  tenderly  by 
her  side.  At  that  moment,  before  he  had  relinquished  it,  she 
bent  her  face  upon  his  hands,  and  bathing  them  with  her 
tears,  faintly  murmured,  "  0  Wallace,  remember  me  !  "  Lord 
Ruthven  rode  up  to  bid  adieu  to  his  friend,  and  the  litters 
moved  on.  Wallace  promised  that  both  he  and  Edwin  should 
hear  of  him  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  and  affectionately 
grasping  the  hand  of  the  latter,  bade  him  farewell. 

Hear  of  him  they  should,  but  not  see  him ;  for  it  was  his 
determination  to  set  off  that  night  for  Durham,  where,  he  was 
informed,  Edward  now  lay,  and,  joined  by  his  young  queen, 
meant  to  sojourn  till  his  wounds  were  healed.  Believing  that 
his  presence  in  Scotland  could  be  no  longer  serviceable,  and 
would  engender  continual  intestine  divisions,  Wallace  did  not 
hesitate  in  fixing  his  course.  His  first  object  was  to  fulfil  his 
vow  to  Lord  Mar.  He  thought  it  probable  that  Helen  might 
have  been  carried  to  the  English  court,  and  that  in  seeking 
her  he  might  also  attempt  an  interview  with  young  Bruce, 
hoping  to  learn  how  far  he  had  succeeded  in  persuading  his 
father  to  leave  the  vassalage  of  Edward,  and  once  more  dare 
resuming  the  sceptre  of  his  ancestors. 

To  effect  his  plan  without  hindrance,  on  the  disappearance 
of  the  funeral  cavalcade  Wallace  retired  to  his  apartment  to 
address  a  letter  to  Lord  Ruthven.  In  this  epistle  he  told  the 
chief  that  he  was  going  on  an  expedition  which  he  hoped  would 
prove  beneficial  to  his  country  ;  but  as  it  was  an  enterprise  of 
rashness  he  would  not  make  any  one  his  companion ;  he  there- 
fore begged  Lord  Ruthven  to  teach  his  friends  to  consider 
with  candor  a  flight  they  might  otherwise  deem  unkind. 

All  the  brother  was  in  his  letter  to  Edwin,  conjuring  him 
to  prove  his  affection  for  his  friend  by  quietly  abiding  at  home 
till  they  should  meet  again  in  Scotland. 

He  wrote  to  Andrew  Murray  (now  Lord  Bothwell),  address- 
ing him  as  the  first  of  his  compatriots  who  had  struck  a  blow 
for  Scotland,  and  as  his  dear  friend  and  brother  soldier,  he 
confided  to  his  care  the  valiant  troop  which  had  followed  him 


DURHAM.  Ill 

from  Lanark.  "Tell  them/'  said  he,  "that  in  obeying  you 
they  still  serve  with  me ;  they  perform  their  duty  to  Scotland 
at  home  —  I  abroad ;  our  aim  is  the  same,  and  we  shall  meet 
again  at  the  consummation  of  our  labors." 

These  letters  he  enclosed  in  one  to  Scrymgeour,  with  orders 
to  despatch  two  of  them  according  to  their  directions  ;  but  that 
to  Murray,  Scrymgeour  was  himself  to  deliver  at  the  head  of 
the  Lanark  veterans. 

At  the  approach  of  twilight  Wallace  quitted  the  monastery, 
leaving  his  packet  with  the  porter  to  present  to  Scrymgeour 
when  he  should  arrive  at  his  usual  hour.  As  the  chief  meant 
to  assume  a  border-minstrel's  garb,  that  he  might  travel  the 
country  unrecognized  as  its  once  adored  regent,  he  took  his 
way  towards  a  large  hollow  oak  in  Torwood,  where  he  had  de- 
posited his  means  of  disguise.1  When  arrived  there,  he  dis- 
armed himself  of  all  but  his  sword,  dirk,  and  breastplate ;  he 
covered  his  tartan  gambeson  with  a  minstrel's  cassock,  and 
staining  his  bright  complexion  with  the  juice  of  a  nut,  con- 
cealed his  brighter  locks  beneath  a  close  bonnet;.  Being  thus 
equipped  he  threw  his  harp  over  his  shoulder,  and  having  first 
in  that  deep  solitude  where  no  eye  beheld,  no  ear  heard  but 
that  of  God,  invoked  a  blessing  on  his  enterprise  with  a  buoy- 
ant spirit,  rejoicing  in  the  power  in  whose  light  he  moved,  he 
went  forth,  and  under  the  sweet  serenity  of  a  summer  night 
pursued  his  way  along  the  broom-clad  hills  of  Muiravenside. 

All  lay  in  profound  rest.  Not  a  human  creature  crossed  his 
path  till  the  carol  of  the  lark  summoned  the  husbandman  to 
his  toil,  and  spread  the  thymy  hills  and  daisied  pastures  with 
herds  and  flocks.  As  the  lowing  of  cattle  descending  to  the 
water,  and  the  bleating  of  sheep  hailing  the  morning  beam, 
came  on  the  breeze,  mingled  with  the  joyous  voices  of  their 
herdsmen  calling  to  each  other  from  afar ;  as  all  met  the  ear  pf 
Wallace,  his  conscious  heart  could  not  but  whisper,  "  I  have 
been  the  happy  instrument  to  effect  this.  I  have  restored  every 
man  to  his  paternal  fields.  I  have  filled  all  these  honest  breasts 
with  gladness." 

He  stopped  at  a  little  moss-covered  cabin,  on  a  burn-side, 

1  The  remains  of  a  venerable  oak  bearing  Wallace's  name  has  long  been  revered  in 
this  wood.  Indeed,  there  are  several  oaks  consecrated  to  his  heroic  memory  in  various 
parts  of  Scotland,  some  as  his  shelter  at  one  place,  some  at  another;  for  he  who  often 
had  to  watch  for  his  country,  without  "  bield  or  board,"  must  have  often  been  glad  of  a 
tree  for  a  canopy,  or  a  cave  for  his  lodging.  More  than  one  of  these  fine  old  oaks  —  of 
perhaps  a  thousand  years'  age  —  has  been  lopped  in  our  own  times  to  afford  relics  of  the 
hero,  in  the  shape  of  caskets,  crosses,  and  even  rings,  set  in  gold.  Of  all  these  forms,  the 
writer  of  "  The  Scottish  Chiels  "  has  had  presents  from  their  brave  and  noble  descend- 
ants; namely,  the  late  Earl  of  Buchau,  Lady  Macdonald  Lockhart,  the  Lady  Charlotte 
Gordon,  Duchess  of  Richmond,  etc.,  etc. 


112  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

beneath  Craig-castle  in  Mid-Lothian,  and  was  hospitably  en- 
tertained by  its  simple  inhabitants.  Wallace  repaid  their 
kindness  with  a  few  ballads,  which  he  sang  accompanied  by 
his  harp.  As  he  gave  the  last  notes  of  "King  Arthur's 
Death  in  Glory,"  the  worthy  cotter  raised  his  head  from  the 
spade  on  which  he  leaned,  and  asked  whether  he  could  not 
sing  the  glory  of  Scotland.  "  Our  renowned  Wallace,"  said 
he,  "  is  worth  King  Arthur  and  all  the  stranger  knights  of 
his  round  table,  for  he  not  only  conquers  for  us  in  war,  but 
establishes  us  in  happy  peace.  Who,  like  him,  of  all  our 
great  captains,  ever  took  such  care  of  the  poor  as  to  give 
them  not  only  the  bread  that  sustains  temporal,  but  that 
which  supports  eternal,  life  ?  Sing  us,  then,  his  praises,  min- 
strel, and  tarry  with  us  days  instead  of  hours."  The  wife 
and  the  children,  who  clung  around  their  melodious  visitant, 
joined  in  this  request.  Wallace  rose  with  a  saddened  smile, 
and  replied,  "  I  cannot  do  what  you  require,  but  I  can  yield 
you  an  opportunity  to  oblige  Sir  William  Wallace.  Will  you 
take  a  letter  from  him,  of  which  I  am  the  bearer,  to  Lord 
Dundaff,  at  Berwick  ?  I  have  been  seeking  what  I  have  now 
found,  a  faithful  Scot,  with  whom  I  could  confide  this  trust. 
It  is  to  reveal  to  a  father's  heart  the  death  of  a  son  for 
whom  Scotland  must  mourn  to  her  latest  generations." 

The  honest  shepherd  respectfully  accepted  this  mission, 
and  his  wife,  loading  their  guest's  scrip  with  her  choicest 
fruits  and  cakes,  accompanied  him,  followed  by  the  children, 
to  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 

In  this  manner,  sitting  at  the  board  of  the  lowly,  and  sleep- 
ing beneath  the  thatched  roof,  did  Wallace  pursue  his  way 
through  Tweedale  and  Ettrick  forest,  till  he  reached  the 
Cheviots.  From  every  lip  he  heard  his  own  praises ;  heard 
them  with  redoubled  satisfaction,  for  he  could  have  no  sus- 
picion of  their  sincerity,  as  they  were  uttered  without  expec- 
tation of  their  ever  reaching  the  regent's  ear. 

It  was  the  Sabbath  day  when  he  mounted  the  Cheviots. 
He  stood  on  one  of  their  summits,  and  leaning  on  his  harp, 
contemplated  the  fertile  dales  he  left  behind.  The  gay 
villagers  in  their  best  attires  were  thronging  to  their  churches, 
while  the  aged,  too  infirm  for  the  walk,  were  sitting  in  the 
sun  at  their  cottage  doors,  adoring  the  Almighty  Benefactor 
in  the  sublimer  temple  of  the  universe.  All  spoke  of  security 
and  happiness.  "  Thus  I  leave  thee,  beloved  Scotland  !  And  on 
revisiting  these  hills,  may  I  still  behold  thy  sons  and  daughters 
rejoicing  in  the  heaven-bestowed  peace  of  their  land  ! " 


DURHAM.  113 

Having  descended  into  Northumberland,  his  well-replenished 
scrip  was  his  provider,  and  when  it  was  exhausted,  he  pur- 
chased food  from  the  peasantry  ;  he  would  not  accept  the  hos- 
pitality of  a  country  he  had  so  lately  trodden  as  an  enemy. 
Here  he  heard  his  name  mentioned  with  terror,  as  well  as 
admiration.  While  many  related  circumstances  of  misery,  to 
which  the  ravaging  of  their  lands  had  reduced  them,  all  con- 
curred in  praising  the  moderation  with  which  the  Scottish 
leader  treated  his  conquests. 

Late  in  the  evening  he  arrived  on  the  banks  of  the  river 
that  surrounds  the  episcopal  city  of  Durham.  He  crossed 
Framlingate  bridge.  His  minstrel  garb  prevented  his  being 
stopped  by  the  guard  at  the  gate  ;  but  as  he  entered  its  porch,  a 
horse  that  was  going  through  started  at  his  abrupt  appearance. 
Its  rider  suddenly  exclaimed,  "Fool,  thou  dost  not  see  Sir 
William  Wallace ! "  Then  turning  to  the  disguised  knight, 
"Harper,"  cried  he,  "you  frighten  my  steed,  draw  back  till  I 
pass."  Not  displeased  to  find  the  terror  of  him  so  great 
amongst  the  enemies  of  Scotland  that  they  even  addressed 
their  animals  as  sharers  in  the  dread,  Wallace  stood  out  of 
the  way,  and  saw  the  speaker  to  be  a  young  Southron  knight, 
who  with  difficulty  kept  his  seat  on  the  restive  horse.  Bear- 
ing and  plunging,  it  would  have  thrown  its  rider  had  not 
Wallace  put  forth  his  hand  and  seized  the  bridle.  By  his 
assistance  the  animal  was  soothed,  and  the  young  lord,  thank- 
ing him  for  his  service,  told  him  that  as  a  reward  he  would 
introduce  him  to  play  before  the  queen,  who  that  day  held  a 
feast  at  the  bishop's  palace.  Wallace  thought  it  probable  he 
might  see  or  hear  of  Lady  Helen  in  this  assembly,  or  find 
access  to  Bruce,  and  he  gladly  accepted  the  offer.  The  knight, 
who  was  Sir  Piers  Gaveston,  ordering  him  to  follow,  turned 
his  horse  towards  the  city,  and  conducted  Wallace  through 
the  gates  of  the  citadel  to  the  palace  within  its  walls. 

On  entering  the  banquet  ing-hall  he  was  placed  by  the  knight 
in  the  musicians'  gallery,  there  to  await  his  summons  to  her 
majesty.  The  entertainment  being  spread,  and  the  room  full 
of  guests,  the  queen  was  led  in  by  the  haughty  bishop  of  the 
see,  the  king  being  too  ill  of  his  wounds  to  allow  his  joining 
so  large  a  company.  The  beauty  of  the  lovely  sister  of  Philip 
le  Bel  seemed  to  fill  the  gaze  and  hearts  of  all  the  bystanders, 
and'  none  appeared  to  remember  that  Edw.ard  was  absent. 
Wallace  hardly  glanced  on  her  youthful  charms ;  his  eyes  roamed 
from  side  to  side  in  quest  of  a  fairer,  a  dearer  object,  —  the  cap- 
tive daughter  of  his  dead  friend.  She  was  not  there,  neither 
VOL.  II.  — 8 


114  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

was  De  Valence ;  but  Buchan,  Athol,  and  Soulis  were  near  the 
royal  Margaret,  in  all  the  pomp  of  feudal  grandeur.  In  vain 
waved  the  trophied  banners  over  their  heads  ;  they  sat  sullen 
and  revengeful,  for  the  defeat  on  the  Carron  had  obscured  the 
treacherous  victory  of  Falkirk,  and  instead  of  having  presented 
Edward  to  his  young  queen  as  the  conqueror  of  Scotland,  she 
had  found  him  and  them  fugitives  in  the  castle  of  Durham. 

Immediately  on  the  royal  band  ceasing  to  play,  Gaveston 
pressed  towards  the  queen,  and  told  her  he  had  presumed  to 
introduce  a  travelling  minstrel  into  the  gallery,  hoping  that 
she  would  order  him  to  perform  for  her  amusement,  as  he  could 
sing  legends  from  the  descent  of  the  Romans  to  the  victories 
of  her  royal  Edward.  With  all  her  age's  eagerness  in  quest  of 
novelties,  she  commanded  him  to  be  brought  to  her. 

Gaveston  having  presented  him,  Wallace  bowed  with  the 
respect  due  to  her  sex  and  dignity,  and  to  the  esteem  in  which 
he  held  the  character  of  her  royal  brother.  Margaret  desired 
him  to  place  his  harp  before  her,  and  begin  to  sing.  As  he 
knelt  on  one  knee,  and  struck  its  sounding  chords,  she  stopped 
him  by  the  inquiry  of  whence  he  came.  "From  the  north 
country,"  was  his  reply.  "  Were  you  ever  in  Scotland  ?  "  asked 
she.  "  Many  times." 

The  young  lords  crowded  round  to  hear  this  dialogue  be- 
tween majesty  and  lowliness.  She  smiled  and  turned  towards 
them.  "  Do  not  accuse  me  of  disloyalty,  but  I  have  a  curiosity 
to  ask  another  question."  —  "Nothing  your  majesty  wishes  to 
know,"  said  Bishop  Beck,  "  can  be  amiss."  —  u  Then  tell  me," 
cried  she,  "  for  you  wandering  minstrels  see  all  great  people, 
good  or  bad,  else  how  could  you  make  songs  about  them,  did 
you  ever  see  Sir  William  Wallace  in  your  travels  ?  "  —  "  Often, 
madam."  —  "  Pray  tell  me  what  he  is  like ;  you  probably  will 
be  unprejudiced,  and  that  is  what  I  can  hardly  expect  in  this 
case  from  any  of  these  brave  lords."  Wishing  to  avoid  fur- 
ther questioning  on  this  subject,  Wallace  replied,  "  I  have  never 
seen  him  so  distinctly  as  to  be  enabled  to  prove  any  right  to 
your  majesty's  opinion  of  my  judgment."  —  "  Cannot  you  sing 
me  some  ballad  about  him  ?  "  inquired  she,  laughing ;  "  and 
if  you  are  a  little  poetical  in  your  praise,  I  can  excuse  you,  for 
my  royal  brother  thinks  this  bold  Scot  would  have  shone 
brightly  in  a  fairer  cause."  —  "  My  songs  are  dedicated  to  glory 
set  in  the  grave,"  returned  Wallace ;  "  therefore  Sir  William 
Wallace's  faults  or  virtues  will  not  be  sung  by  me."  —  "  Then 
he  is  a  very  young  man,  I  suppose,  for  you  are  not  old,  and  yet 
you  speak  of  not  surviving  him  ?  I  was  in  hopes,"  cried  she, 


DURHAM.  115 

addressing  Beck,  "  that  my  lord  the  king  would  have  brought 
this  Wallace  to  have  supped  with  me  here ;  but  for  once  re- 
bellion overcame  its  master." 

Beck  made  some  reply  which  Wallace  did  not  hear,  and 
the  queen,  again  turning  to  him,  resumed,  "  Minstrel,  we 
French  ladies  are  very  fond  of  a  good  mien,  and  I  shall  be 
a  little  reconciled  to  your  northern  realms  if  you  tell  me  this 
Sir  William  Wallace  is  anything  like  as  handsome  as  some  of 
the  gay  knights  by  whom  you  see  me  surrounded."  Wallace 
smiled,  and  replied,  "  The  comeliness  of  Sir  William  Wallace 
lies  in  a  strong  arm  and  a  feeling  heart ;  and  if  these  be 
charms  in  the  eyes  of  female  goodness,  he  may  hope  to  be  not 
quite  an  object  of  abhorrence  to  the  sister  of  Philip  le  Bel." 
The  minstrel  bowed  as  he  spoke,  and  the  young  queen,  laugh- 
ing again,  said,  "  I  wish  not  to  come  within  the  influence  of 
either.  But  sing  me  some  Scottish  legend,  and  I  will  promise 
wherever  I  see  the  knight  to  treat  him  with  all  courtesy  due 
to  valor." 

Wallace  again  struck  the  chords  of  his  harp,  and  with  a 
voice  whose  full  and  melodious  tones  rolled  round  the  vast 
dome  of  the  hall,  he  sang  the  triumphs  of  Reuther.1  The  queen 
fixed  her  eyes  upon  him,  and  when  he  ended  she  turned  and 
whispered  to  Gaveston,  "  If  the  voice  of  this  man  had  been 
Wallace's  trumpet,  I  should  not  now  wonder  at  the  discom- 
fiture of  England.  He  almost  tempted  me  from  my  allegiance, 
as  the  warlike  animation  of  his  notes  seemed  to  charge  the 
flying  Southrons."  Speaking,  she  rose,  and  presenting  a  jew- 
elled ring  to  the  minstrel,  left  the  apartment. 

The  lords  crowded  out  after  her,  and  the  musicians  coming 
down  from  the  gallery,  seated  themselves  with  much  rude 
jollity  to  regale  on  the  remnants  of  the  feast.  Wallace,  who 
had  discovered  the  senachie 2  of  Bruce  by  the  escutcheon  of 
Annandale  suspended  at  his  neck,  gladly  saw  him  approach. 
He  came  to  invite  the  stranger  minstrel  to  partake  of  their 
fare.  Wallace  did  not  appear  to  decline  it,  and  as  the  court 
bard  seemed  rather  devoted  to  the  pleasures  of  wine,  he  found 
it  not  difficult  to  draw  from  him  what  he  wanted  to  know.  He 
learnt  that  young  Bruce  was  still  in  the  castle  under  arrest ; 
"  and,"  added  the  senachie,  "  I  shall  feel  no  little  mortification 
in  being  obliged,  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour,  to  relinquish 
these  festivities  for  the  gloomy  duties  of  his  apartment." 

1  In  commemoration  of  the  victory  which  this  ancient  Scottish  prince  obtained  over 
the  Britons  before  the  Christian  era,  the  field  of  conquest  has  ever  since  been  called 
Rutherglen. 

2  A  eenachie,  or  bard,  was  an  indispensable  appendage  to  rank  in  every  noble  Scot- 
tish family.    The  senachie  always  slept  in  his  lord's  apartment. 


116  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

This  was  precisely  the  point  to  which  Wallace  had  wished 
to  lead  him,  and  pleading  disrelish  of  'wine,  he  offered  to 
supply  his  place  in  the  earl's  chamber.  The  half-intoxicated 
bard  accepted  the  proposition  with  eagerness,  and  as  the 
shades  of  night  had  long  closed  in,  he  conducted  his  illustrious 
substitute  to  the  large  round  tower l  of  the  castle,  informing 
him,  as  they  went  along,  that  he  must  continue  playing  in  a 
recess  adjoining  to  Bruee's  room  till  the  last  vesper  bell  from 
the  abbey  in  the  neighborhood  should  give  the  signal  for  his 
laying  aside  the  harp.  By  that  time  the  earl  would  be  fallen 
asleep,  and  he  might  then  lie  down  on  a  pallet  he  would  find 
in  the  recess. 

•All  this  Wallace  promised  punctually  to  obey,  and  being 
conducted  by  the  senachie  up  a  spiral  staircase  was  left  in  a 
little  anteroom.  The  chief  drew  the  cowl  of  his  minstrel  cloak 
over  his  face  and  set  his  harp  before  him  in  order  to  play. 
He  could  see  through  its  strings  that  a  group  of  knights  were 
in  earnest  conversation  at  the  further  end  of  the  apartment, 
but  they  spoke  so  low  he  could  not  distinguish  what  was  said. 
One  of  the  party  turned  round,  and  the  light  of  a  suspended 
lamp  discovered  him  to  be  the  brave  Earl  of  Gloucester,  whom 
Wallace  had  taken  and  released  at  Berwick.  The  same  ray 
showed  another  to  be  Percy,  Earl  of  Northumberland.  Wal- 
lace found  the  strangeness  of  his  situation.  He,  the  conqueror 
of  Edward,  to  have  been  singing  as  a  mendicant  in  his  halls  ; 
and  having  given  laws  to  the  two  great  men  before  him,  he 
now  sat  in  their  view  unobserved  and  unfeared.  Their  figures 
concealed  that  of  Bruce ;  but  at  last,  when  all  rose  together,  he 
heard  Gloucester  say  in  rather  an  elevated  voice,  "Keep  up 
your  spirits.  This  envy  of  your  base  countrymen  must  recoil 
upon  themselves.  It  cannot  be  long  before  King  Edward  dis- 
covers the  motives  of  their  accusation,  and  his  noble  nature  will 
acquit  you  accordingly." 

"  My  acquittal,"  replied  Bruce,  in  a  firm  tone,  "  cannot  re* 
store  what  Edward's  injustice  has  rifled  from  me.  I  abide  by 
the  test  of  my  own  actions,  and  by  it  will  open  the  door  of  my 
freedom.  Your  king  may  depend  upon  it,"  added  he,  with  a  sar- 
castic smile,  "  that  I  am  not  a  man  to  be  influenced  against  the 
right.  Where  I  owe  duty  I  will  pay  it  to  the  utmost  farthing." 

Not  apprehending  the  true  meaning  of  this  speech,  Percy 
immediately  answered,  "  I  believe  you,  and  so  must  all  the 
world,  for  did  you  not  give  brave  proofs  of  it  that  fearful 

1  This  round  tower,  or  keep,  is  the  only  part  of  the  anrient  castle  of  Durham  in 
preservation,  but  there  are  still  some  fine  ruins  of  the  old  fortified  walls. 


DURHAM.  117 

night  on  the  Carron  in  bearing  arms  against  the  triumphant 
Wallace  ?  "  —  "I  did  indeed  give  proofs  of  it,  "  returned  Bruce. 
"  which  I  hope  the  world  will  one  day  know  by  bearing  arms 
against  the  usurper  of  my  country's  rights ;  and  in  defiance  of 
injustice  and  of  treason  before  men  and  angels  I  swear,  "  cried 
he,  "  to  perform  my  duty  to  the  end,  to  retrieve  to  honor  the 
insulted,  the  degraded  name  of  Bruce  ! " 

The  two  earls  fell  back  before  the  vehement  action  which 
accompanied  this  burst  from  the  soul  of  Bruce,  and  Wallace 
caught  a  glimpse  of  his  youthful  form,  which  stood  preeminent 
in  patriotic  virtue  between  the  Southron  lords ;  his  fine  coun- 
tenance glowed  and  his  brave  spirit  seemed  to  emanate  in 
light  from  every  part  of  his  body.  "  My  prince  and  brother  ! " 
exclaimed  Wallace  to  himself,  ready  to  rush  forward  and 
throw  himself  at  his  feet  or  into  his  arms. 

Gloucester,  as  little  as  Northumberland,  comprehending 
Bruce's  ambiguous  declaration,  replied,  "  Let  not  your  heart, 
my  brave  friend,  burn  too  hotly  against  the  king  for  this  ar- 
rest. He  will  be  the  more  urgent  to  obliterate  by  kindness 
this  injustice  when  he  understands  the  aim  of  the  Cummins. 
I  have  myself  felt  his  misplaced  wrath,  and  who  now  is  more 
favored  by  Edward  than  Ralph  de  Monthermer  ?  My  case 
will  be  yours.  Good-night,  Bruce.  May  propitious  dreams  re- 
peat the  augury  of  your  true  friends  ! "  Percy  shook  hands 
with  the  young  earl,  and  the  two  English  lords  left  the  room. 

Wallace  could  now  take  a  more  leisurely  survey  of  Bruce. 
He  no  longer  wore  the  gay  embroidered  hacqueton;  his  tunic 
was  black  velvet,  and  all  the  rest  of  his  garments  accorded  with 
the  same  mourning  hue.  Soon  after  the  lords  had  quitted  him 
the  buoyant  elasticity  of  his  figure,  which  before  seemed  ready 
to  rise  from  the  earth,  so  was  his  soul  elevated  by  his  sublime 
resolves,  gave  way  to  melancholy  retrospections,  and  he  threw 
himself  into  a  chair  with  his  hands  clasped  upon  his  knee  and 
his  eyes  fixed  in  musing  gaze  upon  the  floor.  It  was  now 
that  Wallace  touched  the  strings  of  his  harp.  The  "  Death  of 
Cuthullin  "  wailed  from  the  sounding  notes,  but  Bruce  heard 
as  though  he  heard  them  not;  they  soothed  his  mood  without 
his  perceiving  what  it  was  that  calmed,  yet  deepened,  the  sad- 
dening thoughts  which  possessed  him.  His  posture  remained 
the  same,  and  sigh  after  sigh  gave  the  only  response  to  the 
strains  of  the  bard. 

Wallace  grew  impatient  for  the  chimes  of  that  vesper-bell, 
which,  by  assuring  Bruce's  attendants  that  he  was  gone  to  rest, 
would  secure  from  interruption  the  conference  he  meditated. 


118  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Two  servants  entered.  Bruce  scarcely  looking  up  bade  them 
withdraw ;  he  should  not  need  their  attendance ;  he  did  not  know 
when  he  should  go  to  bed,  and  he  desired  to  be  no  further  dis- 
turbed. The  men  obeyed,  and  Wallace  changing  the  melan- 
choly strain  of  his  harp,  struck  the  chords  to  the  proud  triumph 
he  had  played  in  the  hall.  Not  one  note  of  either  ballad  had 
he  yet  sung  to  Bruce,  but  when  he  came  to  the  passage  in  the 
latter  appropriated  to  these  lines,  — 

11  Arise,  glory  of  Albin,  from  thy  cloud, 
And  shine  upon  thy  own !  " 

he  could  not  forbear  giving  the  words  voice.  Bruce  started 
from  his  seat.  He  looked  towards  the  minstrel  —  he  walked 
the  room  in  great  disorder.  The  peeling  sounds  of  the  harp 
and  his  own  mental  confusion  prevented  his  distinguishing 
that  it  was  not  the  voice  of  his  senachie.  The  words  alone  he 
heard,  and  they  seemed  a  call  which  his  heart  panted  to  obey. 
The  hand  of  Wallace  paused  upon  the  instrument.  He  looked 
around  to  see  that  observation  was  indeed  at  a  distance.  Not 
that  he  dreaded  harm  to  himself,  for  his  magnanimous  mind, 
courageous  from  infancy,  by  a  natural  instinct  had  never 
known  personal  fear,  but  anxious  not  to  precipitate  Bruce  into 
useless  danger,  he  first  satisfied  himself  that  all  was  safe,  and 
then  —  as  the  young  earl  sat  in  a  paroxysm  of  racking  reflec- 
tions (for  they  brought  self-blame,  or  rather  a  blame  on  his 
father,  which  pierced  him  to  the  heart)  —  Wallace  slowly  ad- 
vanced from  the  recess.  The  agitated  Bruce,  accidentally 
raising  his  head,  beheld  a  man  in  a  minstrel's  garb,  much  too 
tall  to  be  his  senachie,  approaching  him  with  a  caution  which 
he  thought  'portended  treachery.  He  sprang  on  his  feet  and 
caught  his  sword  from  the  table,  but  in  that  moment  Wallace 
threw  off  his  cowl.  Bruce  stood  gazing  on  him,  stiffened  with 
astonishment.  Wallace,  in  a  low  voice,  exclaimed,  "  My  prince  ! 
do  you  not  know  me  ?  "  Bruce,  without  speaking,  threw  his  arms 
about  his  neck.  He  was  silent  as  he  hung  on  him,  but  tears 
flowed ;  he  had  much  to  say,  but  excess  of  emotion  rendered  it 
unutterable.  As  Wallace  returned  the  fond  embrace  of  friend- 
ship, he  gently  said, tf  How  is  it  that  I  not  only  see  you  a  close 
prisoner,  but  in  these  weeds  ?  "  Bruce  at  last  forced  himself 
to  articulate :  "  I  have  known  misery  in  all  its  forms  since 
we  parted,  but  I  have  not  power  to  name  even  my  grief  of 
griefs,  while  trembling  at  the  peril  to  which  you  have  exposed 
yourself  by  seeking  me.  The  vanquisher  of  Edward,  the  man 
who  snatched  Scotland  from  his  grasp,  were  he  known  to  be 


DURHAM.  119 

•within  these  walls,  would  be  a  prize  for  which  the  boiling 
revenge  of  the  tyrant  would  give  half  his  kingdom.  Think 
then,  my  friend,  how  I  shudder  at  this  daring.  I  am  sur- 
rounded by  spies,  and  should  you  be  discovered,  Robert  Bruce 
will  then  have  the  curses  of  his  country  added  to  the  judg- 
ments which  already  have  fallen  on  his  head."  As  he  spoke 
they  sat  down  together,  and  he  continued  :  "  Before  I  an- 
swer your  questions,  tell  me  what  immediate  cause  could  bring 
you  to  seek  the  alien  Bruce  in  prison,  and  by  what  stratagem 
you  came  in  this  disguise  into  my  apartment.  Tell  me  the 
last,  that  I  may  judge  by  the  means  of  your  present  safety." 

Wallace  briefly  related  the  events  which  had  sent  him  from 
Scotland,  his  rencontre  with  Piers  Gaveston,  and  his  arrange- 
ment with  the  senachie.  To  the  first  part  of  the  narrative 
Bruce  listened  with  indignation.  "  I  knew,"  exclaimed  he, 
"  from  the  boastings  of  Athol  and  Buchan,  that  they  had  left 
in  Scotland  some  dregs  of  their  own  refractory  spirits ;  but  I 
could  not  have  guessed  that  envy  had  so  obliterated  gratitude 
in  the  hearts  of  my  countrymen.  The  wolves  have  now  driven 
the  shepherd  from  the  fold,"  cried  he,  "  and  the  flock  will  soon 
be  devoured.  Fatal  was  the  hour  for  Scotland  and  your  friend 
when  you  yielded  to  the  voice  of  faction,  and  relinquished  the 
power  which  would  have  finally  given  peace  to  the  nation." 

Wallace  recapitulated  his  reasons  for  having  refrained  from 
forcing  the  obedience  of  the  young  Lord  Badenoch  and  his 
adherents,  for  abdicating  a  dignity  he  could  no  longer  maintain 
without  shedding  the  blood  of  the  misguided  men  who  opposed 
him.  Bruce  acknowledged  the  wisdom  of  this  conduct,  but 
could  not  restrain  his  animadversions  on  the  characters  of  the 
Cummins.  He  told  Wallace  that  he  had  met  tfie  two  sons  of 
the  late  Lord  Badenoch  in  Guienne  ;  that  James,  who  now  pre- 
tended such  resentment  of  his  father's  death,  had  ever  been  a 
rebellious  son.  John,  who  yet  remained  in  France,  appeared 
of  a  less  violent  temper  ;  "  but,"  added  the  prince,  "  I  have  been 
taught  by  one  who  will  never  counsel  me  more,  that  all  the 
Cummins,  male  and  female,  would  be  ready  at  any  time  to 
sacrifice  earth  and  heaven  to  their  ambition.  It  is  to  Buchan 
and  Athol  that  I  owe  my  prolonged  confinement,  and  to  them 
I  may  date  the  premature  death  of  my  father." 

The  start  of  Wallace  declared  his  shock  at  this  information. 
"How  !  "  exclaimed  he,  "the  Earl  of  Carrick  dead  ?  Fell,  fell 
assassins  of  their  country  !  "  The  swelling  emotions  of  his  soui 
would  not  allow  him  to  proceed,  and  Bruce  resumed :  "It  is 
for  him  I  wear  these  sable  garments,  —  poor  emblems  of  the 


120  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

mournings  of  my  soul;  mournings  not  so  much  for  his  loss 
'(and  that  is  grievous  as  ever  son  bore),  but  because  he  lived  not 
to  let  the  world  know  what  he  really  was  ;  he  lived  not  to  bring 
into  light  his  long-obscured  honor.  There,  there,  Wallace,  is 
the  bitterness  of  this  cup  to  me !  " 

"  But  can  you  not  sweeten  it,  my  dear  prince,"  cried  Wallace, 
"  by  retrieving  all  that  he  was  cut  off  from  redeeming  ?  To 
open  the  way  to  you  I  come."  —  "  And  I  will  enter  where  you 
point,"  returned  Bruce ;  "  but  heavy  is  my  woe,  that,  knowing 
the  same  spirit  was  in  my  father's  bosom,  he  should  be  torn 
from  the  opportunity  to  make  it  manifest.  0  Wallace  !  that 
he  should  be  made  to  lie  down  in  a  dishonored  grave !  Had 
he  lived,  my  friend,  he  would  have  brightened  that  name  which 
rumor  has  sullied,  and  I  should  have  doubly  gloried  in  wear- 
ing the  name  which  he  had  rendered  so  worthy  of  being  coupled 
with  the  kingly  title.  Noble  was  he  in  soul ;  but  he  fell  amidst 
a  race  of  men  whose  art  was  equal  to  their  venality,  and  he 
became  their  dupe.  Betrayed  by  friendship  he  sunk  into  the 
snare,  for  he  had  no  dishonor  in  his  own  breast  to  warn  him 
of  what  might  be  the  villany  of  others.  He  believed  the 
cajoling  speeches  of  Edward,  who,  on  the  first  offence  of  Baliol, 
had  promised  to  place  my  father  on  the  throne.  Month  after 
month  passed  away,  and  the  engagement  was  unperformed. 
The  disturbances  on  the  Continent  seemed  to  .his  confiding 
nature  a  sufficient  excuse  for  these  various  delays,  and  he 
waited  in  quiet  expectation  till  your  name,  my  friend,  rose 
glorious  in  Scotland.  My  father  and  myself  were  then  'in 
Guienne.  Edward  persuaded  him  that  you  affected  the  crown, 
and  he  returned  with  that  deceiver  to  draw  his  sword  against 
his  people  and  their  ambitious  idol,  for  so  he  believed  you  to 
be;  and  grievous  has  been  the  expiation  of  that  fatal  hour. 
Your  conference  with  him  on  the  banks  of  the  Carron  opened 
his  eyes ;  he  saw  what  his  credulity  had  made  Scotland  suffer, 
what  a  wreck  he  had  made  of  his  own  fame  ;  and  from  that  mo- 
ment he  resolved  to  follow  another  course.  But  the  habit  of 
trusting  the  affection  of  Edward  inclined  him  rather  to  remon- 
strate on  his  rights  than  immediately  to  take  up  arms  against 
him  ;  yet,  resolved  not  to  strike  a  second  blow  on  his  people, 
when  you  assailed  the  Southron  camp  he  withdrew  his  few  re- 
maining followers  who  had  survived  the  hard-fought  day  of  Fal- 
kirk  into  a  remote  defile.  On  quitting  you  I  came  up  with  him 
in  Mid-Lothian,  and  never  having  missed  me  from  the  camp,  he 
concluded  that  I  had  appeared  thus  late  from  having  kept  in 
the  rear  of  the  division." 


DURHAM.  121 

Bruce  now  proceeded  to  narrate  to  Wallace  the  particulars 
of  his  father's  meeting  with  the  king  at  Durham.  Instead  of 
that  monarch  receiving  the  Earl  of  Carrick  with  his  wonted 
familiar  welcome,  he  turned  coldly  from  him  when  he  ap- 
proached, and  suffered  him  to  take  his  usual  seat  at  the  royal 
table  without  deigning  him  the  slightest  notice.  Young  Bruce 
was  absent  from  the  banquet,  having  determined  never  to 
mingle  again  in  social  communion  with  the  man  whom  he  now 
regarded  as  the  usurper  of  his  father's  rights.  The  absence  of 
the  filial  eye,  which  had  once  looked  the  insolent  Buchan  into 
his  inherent  insignificance,  now  emboldened  the  audacity  of 
this  enemy  of  the  house  of  Carrick,  and,  supported  by  Athol  on 
the  one  side  and  Soulis  on  the  other,  the  base  voluptuary  seized 
a  pause  in  the  conversation  that  he  might  draw  the  attention 
of  all  present  to  the  disgrace  of  the  chief,  and  said  with  affected 
carelessness,  "My  Lord  of  Carrick,  to-day  you  dine  with  clean 
hands;  the  last  time  I  saw  you  at  meat  they  were  garnished 
with  your  own  blood."  The  earl  turned  on  him  a  look  which 
asked  him  to  explain..  Lord  Buchan  laughed  and  continued, 
"When  we  last  met  at  table  was  it  not  in  his  majesty's  tent 
after  the  victory  at  Falkirk  ?  You  were  then  red  from  the 
slaughter  of  those  bastardized  people  to  whom  I  understand 
you  now  give  the  fondling  appellation  of  sons.  Having  rec- 
ognized the  relationship,  it  was  not  probable  we  should  again 
see  your  hands  in  their  former  brave  livery,  and  their  present 
pallid  hue  convinces  more  than  myself  of  the  truth  of  our  in- 
formation." 

"  And  me,"  cried  Edward,  rising  on  the  couch  to  which  his 
wounds  confined  him,  "  that  I  have  discovered  a  traitor !  You 
fled,  Lord  Carrick,  at  the  first  attack  which  the  Scots  made 
on  my  camp,  and  you  drew  thousands  after  you.  I  know 
you  too  well  to  believe  that  cowardice  impelled  the  motion. 
It  was  treachery,  accursed  treachery,  to  your  friend  and  king, 
and  you  shall  feel  the  weight  of  his  resentment !  "  —  "To  this 
hour,  King  Edward,"  replied  the  earl,  starting  from  his  chair, 
"  I  have  been  more  faithful  to  you  than  my  country  or  my 
God.  I  heard,  saw,  and  believed  only  what  you  determined, 
and  I  became  your  slave,  your  vile,  oppressed  slave,  the  victim 
of  your  artifice !  How  often  have  you  pledged  yourself  that 
you  fought  in  Scotland  only  for  my  advantage  !  I  gave  my 
faith  and  my  power  to  you  ;  and  how  often  have  you  promised, 
after  the  next  successful  battle,  to  restore  me  to  the  crown  of 
my  ancestors !  I  still  believed  you,  and  I  still  engaged  all  who 
yet  acknowledged  the  influence  of  Bruce  to  support  your  name 


122  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

in  Scotland.  Was  not  such  the  reiterated  promise  by  which 
you  allured  me  to  the  field  of  Falkirk  ?  And  when  I  had 
covered  myself,  as  the  Lord  Buchan  too  truly  says,  with  the 
blood  of  my  children  ;  when  I  asked  my  friend  for  the  crown 
I  had  served  for.  what  was  his  answer  ?  '  Have  I  naught  to  do 
but  to  win  kingdoms  to  make  gifts  of  ? '  Thus,  then,  did  a  king, 
a  friend,  break  his  often-repeated  word !  What  wonder,  then, 
that  I  should  feel  the  -indignation  of  a  prince  and  a  friend, 
and  leave  the  false,  alas !  the  perjured,  to  defenders  whom  he 
seemed  more  highly  to  approve  ?  But  of  treachery,  what  have 
I  shown  ?  Rather  confidence,  King  Edward.  And  the  confi- 
dence that  was  awakened  in  the  fields  of  Palestine  brought  me 
hither  to-day  to  remonstrate  with  you  on  my  rights,  when,  by 
throwing  myself  into  the  arms  of  my  people,  I  might  have 
demanded  them  at  the  head  of  a  victorious  army." 

Edward,  who  had  been  prepared  by  the  Cummins  to  discredit 
all  that  Carrick  might  say  in  his  defence,  turned  with  a  look  of 
contempt  towards  him,  and  said,  "  You  have  been  persuaded  to 
act  like  a  madman :  and  as  maniacs  both  yourself  and  your  son 
shall  be  guarded  till  I  have  leisure  to  consider  any  rational 
evidence  you  may  in  future  offer  in  your  vindication."  —  "  And 
is  this  the  manner,  King  Edward,  that  you  treat  your  friend, 
once  your  preserver  ?  "  —  "  The  vassal,"  replied  Edward,  "  who 
presumes  upon  the  condescension  of  his  prince,  and  acts  as 
if  he  were  really  his  equal,  ought  to  meet  the  punishment  due 
to  such  arrogance.  You  saved  my  life  on  the  walls  of  Acre, 
but  you  owed  that  duty  to  the  son  of  your  liege  lord.  In^the 
fervor  of  youth  I  inconsiderately  rewarded  you  with  my  friend- 
ship, and  the  return  is  treason."  As  he  concluded  he  turned 
from  Lord  Carrick,  and  the  marshals  immediately  seizing  the 
earl  took  him  to  the  keep  of  the  castle.1 

His  son,  who  had  been  sought  in  the  Carrick  quarters  and 
laid  under  an  arrest,  met  his  father  in  the  guard-chamber. 
Carrick  could  not  speak,  but  motioning  to  be  conducted  to  the 
place  appointed  for  his  prison,  the  men,  with  equal  silence,  led 
him  through  a  range  of  apartments  which  occupied  the  middle 
story,  and  stopping  in  the  farthest  left  him  there  with  his  son. 
Bruce  was  not  surprised  at  his  own  arrest,  but  at  that  of  his 
father  he  stood  in  speechless  astonishment  until  the  guards 
withdrew  ;  then  seeing  Lord  Carrick,  with  a  changing  counte- 
nance, throw  himself  on  the  bed  (for  it  was  in  his  sleeping-room 
they  had  left  him),  he  exclaimed,  "  What  is  the  meaning  of 

1  These  speeches  are  historically  true,  as  is  also  Edward's  after-treatment  of  the  Earl 
of  Carrick.  —  (1809.) 


DURHAM.  123 

this,  my  father  ?  Has  any  charge  against  me  brought  suspicion 
on  you?"  —  "No,  Robert,  no,"  replied  the  earl;  "it  is  I  who 
have  brought  you  into  this  prison,  and  into  disgrace  —  dis- 
grace with  all  the  world,  for  having  tacitly  surrendered  my  in- 
heritance to  the  invader  of  my  country.  Honest  men  abhor, 
villains  treat  me  with  contumely,  and  he  for  whom  I  incurred 
all  this,  because  I  would  not,  when  my  eyes  were  opened  to 
my  sin,  again  imbrue  my  hands  in  the  blood  of  my  country, 
Edward  thrusts  me  from  him.  You  are  implicated  in  my 
crime,  and  for  not  joining  the  Southrons  to  repel  the  Scots 
from  the  royal  camp  we  are  both  prisoners." 

"Then,"  replied  Bruce,  "he  shall  feel  that  you  have  a  son 
who  has  virtue  to  be  what  he  suspects,  and  from  this  hour  I 
proclaim  eternal  enmity  to  the  betrayer  of  my  father,  to  the 
ingrate  who  embraced  you  to  destroy." 

The  indignation  of  the  youthful  prince  wrought  him  to  so 
vehement  a  declaration  of  resolute  and  immediate  hostility 
that  Lord  Carrick  was  obliged  to  give  his  transports  way ;  but 
when  he  saw  that  his  denunciations  were  exhausted,  though 
not  the  determined  purpose  of  his  soul  (for  he  trod  the  room 
with  a  step  which  seemed  to  shake  its  foundations  with  the 
power  of  his  mighty  mind),  Carrick  gazed  on  him  with  pride, 
yet  grief,  and,  sighing  heavily,  called  him  to  approach  him. 
"  Come  to  me,  my  Robert,"  said  he,  "  hear  and  abide  by  the 
last  injunctions  of  your  father,  for  from  this  bed  I  may 
never  rise  more.  A  too  late  sense  of  the  injuries  my  sanc- 
tion has  doubled  on  the  people  I  was  born  to  protect,  and  the 
ingratitude  of  him  for  whom  I  have  offended  my  God  and 
wronged  my  country,  have  broken  my  heart.  I  shall  die, 
Robert,  but  you  will  avenge  me."  — "  May  God  so  prosper 
me ! "  cried  Bruce,  raising  his  arms  to  heaven.  Carrick  re- 
sumed :  "  Attend  to  me,  my  dear  and  brave  son,  and  do  not 
mistake  the  nature  of  my  last  wish.  Do  not  allow  the  per- 
haps too  forcible  word  I  have  used  to  hurry  you  into  any  per- 
sonal revenge  on  Edward.  Let  him  live  to  feel  and  to  regret 
the  outrages  he  has  committed  on  the  peace  and  honor  of  his 
too  faithful  friend.  Pierce  him  on  the  side  of  his  ambition  ; 
there  he  is  vulnerable,  and  there  you  will  heal  while  you 
wound.  This  would  be  my  revenge,  dear  Robert :  that  you 
should  one  day  have  his  life  in  your  power ;  and  in  memory  of 
what  I  now  say  spare  it.  When  I  am  gone,  think  not  of  pri- 
vate resentment.  Let  your  aim  be  the  recovery  of  the  king- 
dom which  Edward  rifled  from  your  fathers.  Join  the  virt- 
uous and  triumphant  Wallace.  Tell  him  of  my  remorse,  of 


124  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

my  fate,  and  be  guided  wholly  by  his  counsels.  To  ensure  the 
success  of  this  enterprise,  my  son,  —  a  success  to  which  I  look 
as  to  the  only  means  of  redeeming  the  name  I  have  lost,  and 
of  inspiring  my  separated  spirit  with  courage  to  meet  the  free- 
born  souls  of  my  ancestors,  —  urge  not  your  own  destruction 
by  any  premature  disclosure  of  your  resolutions.  For  my 
sake  and  for  your  country's  suppress  your  resentment ;  threaten 
not  the  King  of  England,  provoke  not  the  unworthy  Scottish 
lords,  who  have  gained  his  ear ;  but  bury  all  in  your  own 
bosom  till  you  can  join  Wallace.  Then  by  his  arm  and  yom 
own  seat  yourself  firmly  on  the  throne  of  your  fathers.  That 
moment  will  sufficiently  avenge  me  on  Edward,  and  in  that 
moment,  Robert,  or,  at  least,  as  soon  as  circumstances  can 
allow,  let  the  English  ground  which  will  then  hold  my  body 
give  up  its  dead.  Remove  me  to  a  Scottish  grave,  and,  stand- 
ing over  my  ashes,  proclaim  to  them  who  might  have  been  my 
people,  that  for  every  evil  I  suffered  to  fall  on  Scotland,  I  have 
since  felt  answering  pangs,  and  that  dying  I  beg  their  forgive- 
ness, and  bequeath  them  my  best  blessing,  my  virtuous  son 
to  reign  in  my  stead." 

These  injunctions,  to  assert  his  own  honor  and  that  of  his 
father,  were  readily  sworn  to  by  Bruce ;  but  he  could  not  so 
easily  be  made  to  quell  the  imperious  indignation  which  was 
precipitating  him  to  an  immediate  and  loud  revenge.  The 
dying  earl  trembled  before  the  overwhelming  passion  of  his 
son's  wrath  and  grief.  Treated  with  outrage  and  contumely, 
he  saw  his  father  stricken  to  the  earth  before  him,  and  he 
could  not  bear  to  hear  of  any  temporizing  with  his  murder- 
ers. But  all  this  tempest  of  the  soul  the  wisdom-inspired 
arguments  of  the  earl  at  last  becalmed,  though  could  not 
subdue.  He  convinced  his  son's  reason,  by  showing  him  that 
caution  would  ensure  the  blow,  and  that  his  aim  could  only  be 
effected  by  remaining  silent  till  he  could  publish  his  father's 
honor,  evidenced  by  his  own  heroism.  "  Do  this,"  added 
Carrick,  "and  I  shall  live  fair  in  the  memories  of  men.  But 
be  violent,  threaten  Edward  from  these  walls,  menace  the 
wretches  who  have  trodden  on  the  gray  hairs  of  their  prince, 
and  your  voice  will  be  heard  no  more,  this  ground  will  drink 
your  blood,  and  blindly-judging  infamy  will  forever  after  point 
to  our  obscure  graves." 

Such  persuasives  at  last  prevailed  with  Bruce,  and  next  day, 
writing  the  hasty  lines  which  Wallace  received  at  Falkirk, 
he  intrusted  them  to  his  senachie,  who  conveyed  them  to  Scot- 
land by  means  of  the  shepherd  youth. 


DURHAM.  125 

Shortly  after  the  dispatch  of  this  letter,  the  presage  of  Lord 
Carrick  was  verified  :  he  was  seized  in  the  night  with  spasms 
and  died  in  the  arms  of  his  son. 

When  Bruce  related  these  particulars  his  grief  and  indigna- 
tion became  so  violent  that  Wallace  was  obliged  to  enforce  the 
dying  injunctions  of  the  father  he  thus  vehemently  deplored, 
to  moderate  the  delirium  of  his  soul.  "  Ah ! "  exclaimed  the 
young  earl,  "  I  have  indeed  needed  some  friend  to  save  me 
from  myself,  some  one  to  reconcile  me  to  the  Robert  Bruce 
who  has  so  long  slept  in  the  fatal  delusions  which  poisoned  his 
father  and  laid  him  low.  Oh,  Wallace  !  at  times  I  am  mad. 
I  know  not  whether  this  forbearance  be  not  cowardice.  I 
doubt  whether  my  father  meant  what  he  spoke ;  that  he  did 
not  yet  seek  to  preserve  the  life  of  his  son  at  the  expense  of 
his  honor,  and  I  have  been  ready  to  precipitate  myself  on 
the  steel  of  Edward  so  that  he  should  but  meet  the  point  of 
mine." 

Bruce  then  added  that  in  his  more  rational  meditations  he 
had  resolved  to  attempt  an  escape  in  the  course  of  a  few  days. 
He  understood  that  a  deputation  of  English  barons  seeking  a 
ratification  of  their  charter  were  soon  to  arrive  in  Durham ; 
the  bustle  attendant  on  their  business  would,  he  hoped,  draw 
attention  from  him  and  afford  him  the  opportunity  he  sought. 
"  In  that  case,"  continued  he,  "  I  should  have  made  directly  to 
Stirling ;  and  had  not  Providence  conducted  you  to  me  I  might 
have  unconsciously  thrown  myself  into  the  midst  of  enemies. 
James  Cummin  is  too  ambitious  to  have  allowe'd  my  life  to  pass 
unattempted." 

Whilst  he  was  yet  speaking  the  door  of  the  chamber  burst 
open,  and  Bruce's  two  attendants  rushed  into  the  room  with 
looks  aghast.  Bruce  and  Wallace  started  on  their  feet  and 
laid  their  hands  on  their  swords.  But  instead  of  anything 
hostile  appearing  behind  the  servants,  the  inebriated  figure  of 
the  senachie  staggered  forward.  The  men,  hardly  awake, 
stood  staring  and  trembling  and  looking  from  the  senachie  to 
Wallace ;  at  last  one,  extricating  his  terror-struck  tongue  and 
falling  on  his  knees,  exclaimed,  "  Blessed  St.  Andrew  !  here  is 
the  senachie  and  his  wraith."  1  Bruce  perceived  the  mistake 
of  his  servants,  and  explaining  to  them  that  a  travelling 
minstrel  had  obliged  the  senachie  by  performing  his  duty,  he 
bade  them  retire  to  rest  and  think  no  more  of  their  alarm. 

The  intoxicated  bard  threw  himself  without  ceremony  on 

1  It  is  a  superstition  with  the  lower  orders  in  the  north  that  when  a  man  is  going  to  die 
some  of  his  friends  see  his  apparition,  which  they  call  his  wraith,  and  they  say  it  often 
appears  iu  the  presence  of  the  doomed  person. 


126  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

his  pallet  in  the  recess,  and  the  servants,  though  convinced, 
still  shaking  with  superstitious  fright,  entreated  permission  to 
bring  their  heather  beds  into  their  lord's  chamber.  To  deny 
them  was  impossible,  and  all  further  converse  with  Wallace 
that  night  being  put  an  end  to,  a  couch  was  laid  for  him  in  an 
interior  apartment,  and  with  a  grateful  pressure  of  the  hands, 
in  which  their  hearts  silently  embraced,  the  chiefs  separated  to 
repose. 


CHAPTER   LVIII. 

THE    BISHOP'S    PALACE. 

THE  second  matin-bell  sounded  from  the  abbey  before  the 
eyes  of  Wallace  opened  from  the  deep  sleep  which  had  sealed 
them.  A  bath  refreshed  him  from  every  toil,  then  renew- 
ing the  stain  on  his  face  and  hands  with  the  juice  of  a  nut 
which  he  carried  about  him,  and  once'inore  covering  his  martial 
figure  and  golden  hair  with  the  minstrel's  cassock  and  cowl, 
he  rejoined  his  friend. 

Bruce  had  previously  affected  to  consider  the  senachie  as 
still  disordered  by  his  last  night's  excess,  and  ordering  him  from 
his  presence  for  at  least  a  day,  commanded  that  the  travelling 
minstrel  should  be  summoned  to  supply  his  place. 

The  table  was  spread  when  Wallace  entered,  and  several 
servants  were  in  attendance.  Bruce  hastily  rose  and  would 
have  embraced  him,  so  did  his  comforted  heart  spring  to  meet 
his  friend,  but  before  these  people  it  would  have  been  more 
than  imprudent,  and  hailing  him  with  only  one  of  his  love- 
beaming  looks,  he  made  a  sign  to  him  to  take  his  place  at  a 
board  near  his  own.  To  prevent  suspicion  in  the  attendants 
(some  of  whom  might  be  spies  of  Edward's),  during  the  repast 
he  discoursed  with  Wallace  on  subjects  relative  to  northern 
literature,  repeating,  indeed,  many  passages  apposite  to  his 
own  heroic  sentiments,  from  Ossian  and  other  Scottish  bards. 

The  meal  finished;  and  Wallace,  to  maintain  his  assumed 
character  while  the  servants  were  removing  the  table,  was 
tuning  his  harp,  when  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  entered  the  room. 
The  earl  told  Bruce  the  king  had  required  the  attendance  of 
the  border  minstrel,  and  that  after  searching  over  the  castle, 
the  royal  seneschal  had  at  last  discovered  he  was  in  the  keep 
with  him.  On  this  being  intimated  to  Gloucester,  he  chose 
rather  to  come  himself  to  demand  the  harper  from  his  friend 


THE    BISHOP'S    PALACE.  127 

than  to  subject  him  to  the  insolence  of  the  royal  servants. 
The  king  desired  to  hear  "  The  Triumph  "  with  which  the  min- 
strel had  so  much  pleased  the  queen.  Bruce  turned  pale  at  this 
message,  and  was  opening  his  mouth  to  utter  a  denial,  when 
Wallace,  who  read  in  his  countenance  what  he  was  going  to 
say,  and  aware  of  the  consequences,  immediately  spoke.  "If 
my  Lord  Bruce  will  grant  permission,  I  should  wish  to  comply 
with  the  King  of  England's  request."  —  "Minstrel,"  replied 
Bruce,  casting  on  him  a  powerful  expression  of  what  was 
passing  in  his  mind,  "  you  know  not,  perhaps,  that  the  King 
of  England  is  at  an  enmity  with  me,  and  cannot  mean  well  to 
any  one  who  has  been  my  guest  or  servant.  The  Earl  of 
Gloucester  will  excuse  your  attendance  in  the  presence." 

"Not  for  my  life  or  the  minstrel's,"  replied  the  earl. 
"The  king  would  suspect  some  mystery,  and  this  innocent 
man  might  fall  into  peril.  But  as  it  is,  his  majesty  merely 
wishes  to  hear  him  play  and  sing,  and  I  pledge  myself  he  shall 
return  in  safety." 

Further  opposition  would  only  have  courted  danger,  and 
with  as  good  a  grace  as  he  could  assume  Bruce  gave  his  con- 
sent. A  page,  who  followed  Gloucester,  took  up  the  harp,  and, 
with  a  glance  at  his  friend  which  spoke  the  fearless  mind 
with  which  he  ventured  into  the  power  of  his  enemy,  Wallace 
accompanied  Gloucester  out  of  the  room. 

The  earl  moved  swiftly  forward,  and  leading  him  through  a 
double  line  of  guards,  the  folding-doors  of  the  royal  apartment 
were  thrown  open  by  two  knights-in-waiting,  and  Wallace  found 
himself  in  the  presence.  Perforated  with  the  wounds  which 
the  chief's  own  hand  had  given  him,  the  king  lay  upon  a 
couch  overhung  with  a  crimson-velvet  canopy  with  long 
golden  fringes  which  swept  the  floor.  His  crown  stood  on  a 
cushion  at  his  head,  and  his  queen,  the  blooming  Margaret  of 
France,  sat  full  of  smiles  at  his  feet.  The  young  Countess  of 
Gloucester  occupied  a  seat  by  her  side. 

The  countess,  who  from  indisposition  had  not  been  at  court 
the  preceding  day,  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  minstrel  as  he 
advanced  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  where  the  page,  by 
Gloucester's  orders,  planted  the  harp.  She  observed  the 
manner  of  his  obeisance  to  the  king  and  queen  and  to  herself; 
and  the  queen,  whispering  to  her  with  a  smile,  said,  while  he 
was  taking  his  station  at  the  harp,  "Have  your  British  trouba- 
dours usually  such  an  air  as  that?  Am  I  right  or  am  I 
wrong  ?  "  —  "  Quite  right,"  replied  the  countess  in  as  low  a 
voice.  "I  suppose  he  has  sung  of  kings  and  heroes  till  he  can- 


128  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

not  help  assuming  their  step  and  demeanor."  —  "  But  how 
did  he  come  by  those  eyes  ?  "•  answered  the  queen.  "  If  sing- 
ing of  R-euther's  ' beamy  gaze'  have  so  richly  endowed  his 
own,  by  getting  him  to  teach  me  his  art,  I  may  warble  myself 
into  a  complexion  as  fair  as  any  northern  beauty."  — "  But 
then  his  must  not  be  the  subject  of  your  song,"  whispered  the 
countess  with  a  laugh,  "for  methinks  it  is  rather  of  the  Ethiop 
hue." 

During  this  short  dialogue,  which  was  heard  by  none  but 
the  two  ladies,  Edward  was  speaking  with  Gloucester,  and 
Wallace  leaned  upon  his  harp. 

"  That  is  enough,"  said  the  king  to  his  son-in-law ;  "  now  let 
me  hear  him  play." 

The  earl  gave  the  word,  and  Wallace,  striking  the  chords 
with  the  master  hand  of  genius,  called  forth  such  strains  and 
uttered  such  tones  from  his  full  and  richly  modulated  voice 
that  the  king  listened  with  wonder  and  the  queen  and  count- 
ess scarcely  allowed  themselves  to  breathe.  He  sung  the 
parting  of  Reuther  and  his  bride,  and  their  souls  seemed  to 
pant  upon  his  notes ;  he  changed  his  measure,  and  their 
bosoms  heaved  with  the  enthusiasm  which  spoke  from  his 
lips  and  hand,  for  he  urged  the  hero  to  battle,  he  described 
the  conflict ;  he  mourned  the  slain ;  he  sung  the  glorious  tri- 
umph. As  the  last  sweep  of  the  harp  rolled  its  lofty  diapason 
on  the  ear  of  the  king,  the  monarch  deigned  to  pronounce  him 
unequalled  in  his  art.  Excess  of  delight  so  agitated  the  more 
delicate  frames  of  the  ladies  that,  while  they  poured  their 
encomiums  on  the  minstrel,  they  wiped  the .  glistening  tears 
from  their  cheeks.  The  queen  approached  him,  laid  her  hand 
upon  the  harp,  and  touching  the  strings  with  a  light  finger 
said  with  a  sweet  smile,  "  You  must  remain  with  the  king's 
musicians  and  teach  me  how  to  charm  as  you  do."  Wallace 
replied  to  this  innocent  speech  with  a  smile  sweet  as  her  own 
and  bowed. 

The  countess  drew  near.  Though  not  much  older  than  the 
youthful  queen  she  had  been  married  twice,  and  being  there- 
fore more  acquainted  with  the  proprieties  of  life,  her  compli- 
ments were  uttered  in  a  form.. more  befitting  her  rank,  and  the 
supposed  quality  of  the  man  to  whom  the  queen  continued  to 
pour  forth  her  less  considerate  praises. 

Edward  desired  Gloucester  to  bring  the  minstrel  closer  to 
him.  Wallace  approached  the  royal  couch.  Edward  looked 
at  him  from  head  to  foot  before  lie  spoke.  Wallace  bore  this 
eagle  gaze  with  an  undisturbed  countenance ;  he  neither  with- 


THE    BISHOP'S    PALACE.  129 

drew  his  eye  from  the  king  nor  did  he  allow  a  conqueror's  fire 
to  emit  from  its  glance. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  at  length  demanded  Edward,  who,  sur- 
prised at  the  noble  mien  and  unabashed  carriage  of  the  min- 
strel, conceived  some  suspicions  of  his  quality.  Wallace  saw 
what  was  passing  in  the  king's  mind,  and,  determining  by  a 
frank  reply  to  uproot  his  doubts,  mildly  but  fearlessly  an- 
swered, "  A  Scot."  —  "  Indeed ! "  said  the  king,  satisfied  that  no 
incendiary  would  dare  thus  to  proclaim  himself.  "  And  how 
durst  you,  being  of  that  outlawed  nation,  venture  into  my 
court  ?  Feared  you  not  to  fall  a  sacrifice  to  my  indignation 
against  the  mad  leader  of  your  rebellious  countrymen  ?  " —  "I 
fear  nothing  on  earth,"  replied  Wallace.  "  This  garb  is  priv- 
ileged. None  who  respect  that  sacred  law  dare  commit  vio- 
lence on  a  minstrel,  and  against  them  who  regard  no  law  but 
that  of  their  own  wills  I  have  this  weapon  to  defend  me."  As 
Wallace  spoke  he  pointed  to  a  dirk  which  stuck  in  his  girdle. 
"  You  are  a  bold  man  and  an  honest  man,  I  believe,"  replied 
the  king,  "and  as  my  queen  desires  it  I  order  your  enrol- 
ment in  my  travelling  train  of  musicians.  You  may  leave  the 
presence." 

"Then  follow  me  to  my  apartment,"  cried  the  queen. 
"  Countess,  you  will  accompany  me  to  see  me  take  my  first 
lesson." 

A  page  took  up  the  harp,  and  Wallace,  bowing  his  head  to 
the  king,  was  conducted  by  Gloucester  to  the  ante-room  of  the 
queen's  apartments.  The  earl  there  told  him  that  when  dis- 
missed by  the  queen,  a  page  he  would  leave  would  show  him 
the  way  back  to  Lord  Carrick. 

The  royal  Margaret  herself  opened  the  door,  so  eager  was 
she  to  admit  her  teacher,  and  placing  herself  at  the  harp,  she 
attempted  a  passage  of  "  The  Triumph"  which  had  particularly 
struck  her,  but  she  played  wrong.  Wallace  was  asked  to  set 
her  right ;  he  obeyed.  She  was  quick,  he  clear  in  his  expla- 
nations, and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  he  made  her  execute  the 
whole  movement  in  a  manner  that  delighted  her.  "Why, 
minstrel,"  cried  she,  looking  him  up  in  his  face,  "  either  your 
harp  is  enchanted,  or  you  are  a.  magician.  I  have  studied 
three  long  years  to  play  the  lute,  and  could  never  bring  forth 
any  tone  that  did  not  make  me  ready  to  stop  my  own  ears. 
And  now,  countess,"  cried  she,  again  touching  a  few  chords, 
"  did  you  ever  hear  anything  so  entrancing  ? " 

"  I  suppose,"  returned   the  countess,  "  all  your  former  in- 
structors have  been  novices,  and  this  Scot  alone  knows  the  art 
VOL.  II.— 9 


130  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

to  which  they  pretended."  —  "  Do  you  hear  what  the  countess 
says  ?  "  exclaimed  the  queen,  affecting  to  whisper  to  him  ;  "  she 
will  not  allow  of  any  spiritual  agency  in  my  wonderfully 
awakened  talent.  If  you  can  contradict  her,  do,  for  1  want 
very  much  to  believe  in  fairies,  magicians,  and  all  the  enchant- 
ing world." 

Wallace,  with  a  respectful  smile,  answered,  "  I  know  of  no 
spirit  that  has  interposed  in  your  majesty's  favor  but,  that  of 
your  own  genius,  and  it  is  more  efficient  than  the  agency  of  all 
fairy-land."  The  queen  looked  at  him  very  gravely,  and  said, 
"  If  you  really  think  there  are  no  such  things  as  fairies  and 
enchantments,  for  so  your  words  would  imply,  then  everybody 
in  your  country  must  have  genius,  for  they  seem  to  be  excel- 
lent in  everything.  Your  warriors  are  so  peerlessly  brave, 
all,  excepting  these  Scottish  lords  who  are  such  favorites  with 
the  king.  I  wonder  what  he  can  see  in  their  uncouth  faces, 
or  find  in  their  rough,  indelicate  conversation,  to  admire.  If 
it  had  not  been  for  their  besetting  my  gracious  Edward,  I  am 
sure  he  never  would  have  suspected  any  ill  of  the  noble  Bruce." 
—  "  Queen  Margaret !  "  cried  the  Countess  of  Gloucester,  giving 
her  a  look  of  respectful  reprehension,  "had  not  the  minstrel 
better  retire  ?  "  The  queen  blushed,  and  recollected  that  she 
was  giving  too  free  a  vent  to  her  sentiments,  but  she  would 
not  suffer  Wallace  to  withdraw. 

"  I  have  yet  to  ask  you,"  resumed  she,  "  the  warriors  of 
Scotland  being  so  resistless,  and  their  minstrels  so  perfect  in 
their  art,  whether  all  the  ladies  can  be  so  very  beautiful  as 
the  Lady  Helen  Mar  ?  " 

The  eagerness  with  which  Wallace  grasped  at  any  tidings 
of  her  who  was  so  prime  an  object  of  his  enterprise  at  once 
disturbed  the  composure  of  his  air,  and  had  the  penetrating 
eyes  of  the  countess  been  then  directed  towards  him,  she 
might  have  drawn  some  dangerous  conclusions  from  the  start 
he  gave  at  the  mention  of  her  name,  and  from  the  heightened 
color  which,  in  spite  of  his  exertions  to  suppress  all  evident 
emotion,  maintained  its  station  on  his  cheek.  "  But  perhaps 
you  have  never  seen  her  ?  "  added  the  queen.  Wallace  replied, 
neither  denying  nor  affirming  her  question,  "  I  have  heard 
many  praise  her  beauty,  but  more  her  virtues."  —  "  Well,  I  am 
sorry,"  continued  her  majesty,  "  since  you  sing  so  sweetly  of 
female  charms,  that  you  have  not  seen  this  wonder  of  Scottish 
ladies.  You  have  now  little  chance  of  that  good  fortune,  for 
Earl  De  Valence  has  taken  her  abroad,  intending  to  marry  her 
amidst  all  the  state  with  which  my  lord  has  invested  him."  — 


THE    ROUND    TOWER.  131 

"  Is  it  to  Guienne  he  has  taken  her  ? "  inquired  Wallace.  — 
"Yes,"  replied  the  queen,  rather  pleased  than  offended  at  the 
minstrel's  ignorance  of  court  ceremony  in  thus  familiarly  pre- 
suming to  put  a  question  to  her;  she  continued  to  answer. 
"  While  so  near  Scotland  he  could  not  win  her  to  forget  her 
native  country  and  her  father's  danger,  who  it  seems  was 
dying  when  De  Valence  carried  her  away.  And  to  prevent 
bloodshed  between  the  earl  and  Soulis,  who  is  also  madly  in 
love  with  her,  my  ever-gracious  Edward  gave  the  English  lord 
a  high  post  in  Guienne,  and  thither  they  are  gone." 

Before  Wallace  could  reply  to  some  remark  which  the  queen 
laughingly  added  to  her  information,  the  countess  thought  it 
proper  to  give  her  gay  mother-in-law  a  more  decisive  reminder 
of  decorum,  and,  rising,  she  whispered  something  which  cov- 
ered the  youthful  Margaret  with  blushes.  Her  majesty  rose 
directly,  and  pushing  away  the  harp,  hurryingly  said,  "You 
may  leave  the  room,"  and  turning  her  back  to  Wallace,  walked 
away  through  an  opposite  door. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

THE    ROUND    TOWER. 

WALLACE  was  yet  recounting  the  particulars  of  his  royal 
visit  to  Bruce  (who  had  anxiously  watched  his  return),  when 
one  of  the  queen's  attendants  appeared,  and  presenting  him 
a  silk  handevcliief  curiously  coiled  up,  said  that  he  brought  it 
from  her  majesty,  who  supposed  it  must  be  his,  as  she  found 
it  in  the  room  where  he  had  been  playing  the  harp.  Wallace 
was  going  to  say  that  it  did  not  belong  to  him,  when  Bruce 
gave  him  a  look  that  directed  him  to  take  the  handerchief. 
He  obeyed  without  a  word,  and  the  boy  withdrew. 

Bruce  smiled.  "  There  is  more  in  that  handkerchief  than 
silk,  my  friend.  Queens  send  not  these  embassies  on  trifling 
errands."  While  Bruce  spoke,  Wallace  unwrapped  it.  "I 
told  you  so,"  cried  the  prince,  with  a  frank  archness  playing 
over  his  before  pensive  features,  and  pointing  to  a  slip  of  em- 
blazoned vellum,  which  became  unfolded.  "  Shall  I  look  aside 
while  you  peruse  it  ?  "  —  lt  Look  on  it,  my  dear  prince,"  replied 
Wallace ;  "  for  in  trifles,  as  well  as  in  things  of  moment,  I 
would  hold  no  reserves  with  you."  The  vellum  was  then 
opened,  and  these  words  presented  themselves : 


132  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"Presume  not  on  condescension.  This  injunction  may  be 
necessary,  for  the  noble  lady  who  was  present  at  our  interview 
tells  me  the  men  of  this  island  are  very  presuming.  Redeem 
the  character  of  your  countrymen,  and  transgress  not  on  a 
courtesy  that  only  means  to  say,  I  did  not  leave  you  this 
morning  so  abruptly  out  of  unkindness.  I  write  this,  because 
having  the  countess  ever  with  me,  I  shall  not  even  dare  to 
whisper  it  in  her  presence.  Be  always  faithful  and  respectful, 
minstrel,  and  you  shall  ever  find  an  indulgent  mistress. 

"  A  page  will  call  for  you  when  your  attendance  is  desired." 

Wallace  and  Bruce  looked  on  each  other.  Bruce  spoke 
first.  "  Had  you  vanity,  my  friend,  this  letter,  from  so  lovely 
and  innocent  a  creature,  might  be  a  gratification ;  but  in  our 
case,  the  sentiment  it  breathes  is  full  of  danger.  She  knows 
not  the  secret  power  that  impelled  her  to  write  this,  but  we 
do.  And  I  fear  it  will  point  an  attention  to  you  which  may 
produce  effects  ruinous  to  our  projects." —  "Then,"  answered 
Wallace,  "  our  alternative  is  to  escape  it  by  getting  away  this 
very  night.  And,  as  you  persevere  in  your  resolution  not  to 
enter  Scotland  unaccompanied  by  me,  and  will  share  my 
attempt  to  rescue  Lady  Helen  Mar,  we  must  direct  our  course 
immediately  to  the  Continent." 

"  Yes,  instantly,  and  securely  too,  under  the  disguise  of 
priests,"  returned  Bruce.  "  I  have  in  my  possession  the  ward- 
robe of  the  confessor  who  followed  my  father's  fortunes,  and 
who,  on  his  death,  retired  into  the  abbey  which  contains  his 
remains." 

It  was  then  settled  between  the  friends  that  when  it  be- 
came dark  they  should  dress  themselves  in  the  confessor's 
robes,  and  by  means  of  the  queen's  signet,  which  she  had 
given  to  Wallace  at  the  banquet,  pass  the  guard  as  priests  who 
had  entered  by  some  other  gate,  and  were  returned  from 
shriving  her  majesty.  Once  without  the  city  they  could 
make  a  swift  progress  southward  to  the  nearest  seaport,  and 
there  safely  embark  for  France;  for  they  were  well  aware 
that  the  moment  they  were  missed,  suspicion  would  direct 
pursuit  towards  the  Scottish  borders. 

In  these  arrangements,  and  in  planning  their  future  move- 
ments relative  to  the  rescue  of  Lady  Helen,  they  passed  sev- 
eral hours,  and  were  only  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  a  lute 
from  the  queen  for  her  minstrel  to  tune.  Wallace  obeyed, 
and  returning  it  by  the  page  who  brought  it,  congratulated 
himself  that  it  was  not  accompanied  by  any  new  summons. 
Then  continuing  his  discourse  with  Bruce  on  the  past,  present, 


THE    ROUND    TOWER.  133 

and  to  come,  their  souls  grew  more  closely  entwined,  as  they 
more  intimately  recognized  their  kindred  natures,  and  time 
moved  on  unmarked  till  the  shadow  deepened  into  night. 

"Now  is  our  hour,"  cried  Bruce,  starting  on  his  feet;  "go 
you  into  that  room  and  array  yourself  in  the  confessor's 
robes,  while  I  call  my  servants  to  dispense  with  their  usual 
nightly  attendance."  With  determination  and  hope,  Wal- 
lace gladly  obeyed.  In  that  very  same  instant  the  Earl  of 
Gloucester  suddenly  entered,  and  looking  around  the  room 
with  a  disturbed  countenance,  abruptly  said,  "  Where  is  the 
minstrel  ?  "  —  "  Why  ?  "  answered  Bruce,  with  an  alarm 
which  he  vainly  tried  to  prevent  appearing  in  his  face. 
Gloucester  advanced  close  to  him.  "  Is  any  one  within  hear- 
ing?"—  "No  one."  — " Then,"  replied  the  earl,  "his  life  is 
in  danger.  He  is  suspected  to  be  not  what  he  seems,  and, 
I  am  sorry  to  add,  to  stand  in  a  favor  with  the  queen,  of  a 
nature  to  incur  his  mortal  punishment." 

Bruce  was  so  confounded  with  this  stoppage  of  all  their 
plans,  and  at  the  imminent  peril  of  Wallace,  that  he  could  not 
speak.  Gloucester  proceeded :  "My  dear  Bruce,  from  the 
circumstance  of  his  being  with  you,  I  cannot  but  suppose 
that  you  know  more  of  him  than  you  think  proper  to  disclose. 
Whoever  he  may  be,  whether  he  came  from  France,  or  really 
from  Scotland,  as  he  says,  his  life  is  now  forfeited.  And  that 
by  attempting  to  screen  him  you  may  not  seem  to  share  his 
imputed  guilt,  I  come  to  warn  you  of  this  discovery.  A 
double  guard  is  set  around  the  keep,  so  no  visible  means  are 
left  for  his  escape." 

"  Then  what  will  become  of  him  ? "  exclaimed  Bruce,  for- 
getting all  caution  in  dismay  for  his  friend.  "Am  I  to  see 
the  bravest  of  men,  the  savior  of  my  country,  butchered 
before  my  eyes  by  a  tyrant  ?  I  may  die,  Gloucester,  in  his 
defence,  but  I  will  never  surrender  him  to  his  enemy." 

Gloucester  stood  aghast  at  this  disclosure.  He  came  to 
accuse  the  friend  of  Bruce,  that  Bruce  might  be  prepared  to 
clear  himself  of  connivance  with  so  treasonable  a  crime ;  but 
now  that  he  found  this  friend  to  be  Wallace,  the  preserver  of 
his  own  life,  the  restorer  of  his  honor  at  Berwick,  he  imme- 
diately resolved  to  give  him  freedom.  "Bruce,"  cried  he, 
"  when  I  recollect  the  figure  and  deportment  of  this  minstrel, 
I  am  surprised  that,  in  spite  of  his  disguise,  I  did  not  recog- 
nize the  invincible  regent  of  Scotland ;  but  now  I  know  him, 
he  shall  find  that  generosity  is  not  confined  to  his  own  breast. 
Give  me  your  word  that  you  will  not  stimulate  suspicion  by 


184  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

remonstrating  with  Edward  against  your  own  arrest,  till  the 
court  leaves  Durham,  and  I  will  instantly  find  a  way  to  con- 
duct your  friend  in  safety  from  the  castle."  —  "I  pledge  you 
my  word  of  honor,"  cried  Bruce ;  "  release  but  him,  and  if 
you  do  demand  it  of  me,  I  would  die  in  chains."  —  "  He  saved 
me  at  Berwick,"  replied  Gloucester,  "and  I  am  anxious  to 
repay  the  debt.  If  he  be  near,  explain  what  has  happened 
in  as  few  words  as  possible,  for  we  must  not  delay  a  moment. 
I  left  a  council  with  the  enraged  king,  settling  what  horrible 
death  was  to  be  his  punishment." — "When  he  is  safe,"  an- 
swered Bruce,  "  I  will  attest  his  innocence  to  you ;  meanwhile 
rely  on  my  faith  that  you  are  giving  liberty  to  a  guiltless 
man." 

Bruce  hastened  to  Wallace,  who  had  just  completed  his  dis- 
guise. He  briefly  related  what  had  passed,  and  received  for 
answer  that  he  would  not  leave  his  prince  to  the  revenge  of 
the  tyrant.  But  Bruce,  urging  that  the  escape  of  the  one  could 
alone  secure  that  of  the  other,  implored  him  not  to  persist  in 
refusing  his  offered  safety,  but  to  make  direct  for  Normandy. 
"  I  will  join  you  at  Rouen,  and  thence  we  can  proceed  to 
Guienne,"  added  he.  "  The  hour  the  court  leaves  Durham  is 
that  of  my  escape,  and  when  free,  what  shall  divide  me  from 
you  and  our  enterprise  ? " 

Wallace  had  hardly  assented  when  a  tumultuous  noise 
broke  the  silence  of  the  court-yard,  the  great  iron  doors  of  the 
keep  were  thrown  back  on  their  hinges,  and  the  clangor  of 
arms,  with  many  voices,  resounded  in  the  hall.  Thinking  all 
was  lost,  with  a  cry  of  despair  Bruce  drew  his  sword  and 
threw  himself  before  his  friend.  At  that  instant  Gloucester 
entered  the  room.  "  They  are  quicker  than  I  thought, "  cried 
he ;  "  but  follow  me.  Bruce,  remain  where  you  are ;  sheathe 
your  sword;  be  bold  ;  deny  you  know  anything  of  the  minstrel, 
and  all  will  be  well."  As  he  spoke  the  feet  of  them  who 
were  come  to  seize  Wallace  already  sounded  in  the  adjoining 
apartment.  Gloucester  grasped  the  Scottish  hero  by  the  hand, 
turned  into  a  short  gallery,  and  plucking  the  broad  shaft  of  a 
cedar  pilaster  from  under  its  capital,  let  himself  and  his  com- 
panion into  a  passage  within  the  wall  of  the  building.  The 
ponderous  beam  closed  after  them  into  its  former  situation, 
and  the  silent  pair  descended,  by  a  long  flight  of  stone  steps, 
to  a  square  dungeon  without  any  visible  outlet,  but  the  earl 
found  one  by  raising  a  flat  stone  marked  with  an  elevated 
sross,  and  again  they  penetrated  lower  into  the  bosom  of  the 
earth  by  a  gradually  declining  path,  till  they  stopped  on  a 


THE  ROUND    TO  WEE.  135 

subterranean  level  ground.  "This  vaulted  passage,"  said 
Gloucester,  ''reaches  in  a  direct  line  to  Fiuklay  abbey.1  A 
particular  circumstance  constrained  my  uncle,  the  then  abbot 
of  that  monastery,  to  discover  it  to  me  ten  years  ago.  He 
told  me  that  to  none  but  to  the  bishops  of  Durham  and  the 
abbots  of  Finklay  was  the  secret  of  its  existence  revealed. 
Since  my  coming  hither  this  time  (which  was  to  escort  the 
young  queen,  not  to  bear  arms  against  Scotland),  I  one  day 
took  it  into  my  head  to  revisit  this  recess,  and  happily  for  the 
gratitude  I  owe  to  yon,  I  found  all  as  I  had  left  it  in  my 
uncle's  lifetime.  But  for  the  sake  of  iny  honor  with  Edward, 
whose  wrath  would  fall  upon  me  in  the  most  fearful  shapes 
should  he  ever  know  that  I  delivered  his  vanquisher  out  of 
his  hand,  I  must  enjoin  you  to  secrecy.  Though  the  enemy  of 
my  king's  ambition,  you  are  the  friend  of  mankind.  You 
were  my  benefactor,  noble  Wallace,  and  I  should  deserve  the 
rack  could  I  suffer  one  hair  of  your  head  to  fall  with  violence 
to  the  ground." 

With  answering  frankness  Wallace  declared  his  sense  of  the 
earl's  generosity,  and  earnestly  commended  the  young  Bruce 
to  his  watchful  friendship.  "The  brave  impetuosity  of  his 
mind,"  continued  he,  "at  times  may  overthrow  his  prudence 
and  leave  him  exposed  to  dangers  which  a  little  virtuous 
caution  might  avoid.  Dissimulation  is  a  baseness  I  should 
shudder  at  seeing  him  practise  ;  but  when  the  flood  of  indig- 
nation swells  his  bosom,  then  tell  him  that  1  conjure  him  on 
the  life  of  his  dearest  wishes  to  be  silent.  The  storm  which 
threatens  must  blow  over,  and  the  Power  which  guides  through 
perils  those  who  trust  in  it  will  ordain  that  we  shall  meet 
again." 

Gloucester  replied,  "What  you  say  1  will  repeat  to  Bruce. 
I  am  too  sensible  my  royal  father-in-law  has  trampled  on  his 
rights,  and  should  I  ever  see  him  restored  to  the  throne  of  his 
ancestors,  I  could  not  but  acknowledge  the  hand  of  Heaven  in 
the  event.  Far  would  it  have  been  from  me  to  have  bound 
him  to  remain  a  prisoner  during  Edward's  sojourn  at  Durham, 
had  I  not  been  certain  that  your  escape  and  his  together  would 
now  give  birth  to  a  plausible  argument  in  the  minds  of  my 
enemies ;  and,  grounding  their  suspicions  on  my  acknowledged 
attachment  to  Bruce,  the  king  might  have  been  persuaded  to 
believe  me  unfaithful  to  his  interests.  The  result  would  be 

1  The  remains  of  this  curious  subterraneous  passage  are  yet  to  be  seen;  but  parts  of 
them  are  now  broken  in  upon  by  water,  and  therefore  the  communication  between  Dur- 
ham and  Finklay  is  now  cut  off.  Many  strange  legends  are  told  of  this  passage,  and  I 
have  heard  some  from  schoolboys  who  were  bold  enough  to  enter  it.  —  (1809.) 


136  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

my  disgrace,  and  a  broken  heart  to  her  who  has  raised  me  bj 
lier  generous  love  from  the  humbler  ranks  of  liability  to  that 
of  a  prince  and  her  husband.'7 

Gloucester  then  informed  Wallace  that  about  two  hours 
before  he  came  to  alarm  Bruce  for  his  safety  on  this  occasion, 
he  was  summoned  by  Edward  to  attend  him  immediately. 
When  he  obeyed  he  found  Soulis  standing  by  the  royal  couch 
and  his  majesty  talking  with  violence.  At  sight  of  Gloucester 
he  beckoned  him  to  advance,  and  striking  his  hand  fiercely  on 
a  letter  he  held,  he  exclaimed,  "Here,  my  son,  behold  the 
record  of  your  father's  shame!  —  of  a  King  of  England  dis- 
honored by  a  slave  !  "  As  he  spoke  he  dashed  it  from  him. 
Soulis  answered,  smiling,  "  Not  a  slave,  my  lord  and  king. 
Can  you  not  see,  through  the  ill-adapted  disguise,  the. figure 
and  mien  of  nobility  ?  He  is  some  foreign  lover  of  your 
bride,  come  —  "  —  "  Enough ! "  interrupted  the  king.  "  I  know 
I  am  dishonored,  but  the  villain  shall  die.  Read  the  letter, 
Gloucester,  and  say  what  tortures  shall  stamp  my  vengeance." 

Gloucester  opened  the  vellum  and  read,  in  the  queen's 
hand : 

"  Gentle  minstrel !  My  lady  countess  tells  me  I  must  not  see 
you  again.  Were  you  old  or  ugly,  as  most  bards  are,  I  might, 
she  says ;  but  being  young  it  is  not  for  a  queen  to  smile  upon 
one  of  your  calling.  She  bade  me  remember  that  when  I 
smiled  you  smiled  too,  and  that  you  asked  me  questions  unbe- 
coming your  degree.  Pray  do  not  do  this  any  more,  though  I 
see  no  harm  in  it.  Alas  !  I  used  to  smile  as  I  liked  when  I  was 
in  France.  Oh,  if  it  were  not  for  those  I  love  best,  who  are 
now  in  England,  I  wish  I  were  there  again  !  and  you  would  go 
with  me,  gentle  minstrel,  would  you  not  ?  And  you  would 
teach  me  to  sing  so  sweetly.  I  would  then  never  talk  with 
you,  but  always  speak  in  song.  How  pretty  that  would  be ! 
and  then  we  should  be  from  under  the  eyes  of  this  harsh 
countess.  My  ladies  in  France  would  let  you  come  in  and  stay 
as  long  with  me  as  I  pleased.  But  as  I  cannot  go  back  again 
I  will  make  myself  happy  here  in  spite  of  the  countess,  who 
rules  me  more  as  if  she  were  my  step-mother  than  I  hers ;  but 
then  to  be  sure  she  is  a  few  years  older. 

"  I  will  see  you  this  very  evening,  and  your  sweet  harp  shall 
sing  all  my  heartaches  to  sleep.  My  French  lady  of  honor 
will  conduct  you  secretly  to  my  apartments.  I  am  sure  you 
are  too  honest  even  to  guess  at  what  the  countess  thinks  you 
might  fancy  when  I  smile  on  you.  But,  gentle  minstrel,  presume 
not,  and  you  shall  ever  find  an  indulgent  mistress  in  M . 


THE    ROUND    TOWER.  137 

"P.S.  — At  the  last  vespers  to-night  my  page  shall  come  for 
you." 

Gloucester  knew  the  queen's  handwriting,  and  not  being  able 
to  contradict  that  this  letter  was  hers,  he  inquired  how  it  came 
into  his  majesty's  hands. .  "  I  found  it,"  replied  Soulis,  "  in 
crossing  the  court-yard ;  it  lay  on  the  ground,  where,  doubtless, 
it  had  been  accidentally  dropped  by  the  queen's  messenger." 

Gloucester,  wishing  to  extenuate  for  the  queen's  sake,  whose 
youth  and  inexperience  he  pitied,  affirmed  that  from  the  sim- 
plicity with  which  the  note  was  written,  from  her  innocent 
references  to  the  minstrel's  profession,  he  could  not  suppose 
that  she  addressed  him  in  any  other  character. 

"  If  he  be  only  a  base  itinerant  harper,"  replied  the  king, 
"the  deeper  is  my  disgrace;  for  if  a  passion  of  another  kind 
than  music  be  not  portrayed  in  every  word  of  this  artful  letter, 
I  never  read  a  woman's  heart."  The  king  continued  to  com- 
ment on  the  fatal  scroll  with  the  lynx-eye  of  jealousy,  loading 
her  name  with  every  opprobrium.  Gloucester  inwardly  thanked 
Heaven  that  none  other  than  Soulis  and  himself  were  present 
to  hear  Edward  fasten  such  foul  dishonor  on  his  queen.  The 
generous  earl  could  not  find  other  arguments  to  assuage  the 
mounting  ire  of  her  husband.  She  might  be  innocent  of  actual 
guilt,  or  indeed  of  being  aware  of  having  conceived  any  wish 
that  might  lead  to  it,  but  certainly  more  than  a  queen's  usual 
interest  in  a  poor  wandering  minstrel  was,  as  the  king  said,  < 
evident  in  every  line.  Gloucester  remaining  silent,  Edward 
believed  him  convinced  of  the  queen's  crime,  and  being  too 
wrathful  to  think  of  caution,  he  sent  for  the  bishop  and  others 
of  his  lords,  and  when  they  entered,  vented  to  them  also 
his  injury  and  indignation.  Many  were  not  inclined  to  be  of 
the  same  opinion  with  their  sovereign  ;  some  thought  with 
Gloucester ;  others  deemed  the  letter  altogether  a  forgery  ; 
and  a  few  adopted  the  severer  inferences  of  her  husband ;  but 
all  united  (even  those  determined  to  spare  the  queen)  in  rec- 
ommending an  immediate  apprehension  and  private  execution 
of  the  minstrel.  "It  is  not  fit,"  cried  Soulis,  "that  a  man 
who  has  even  been  suspected  of  invading  our  monarch's  honor 
should  live  another  hour." 

This  sanguinary  sentence  was  acceded  to,  and  with  as  little 
remorse,  by  the  whole  assembly,  as  if  they  had  merely  con- 
demned a  tree  to  the  axe.  Such  is  the  carelessness  with  which 
the  generality  of  arbitrary  assemblies  decide  on  the  fate  of  a 
fellow-mortal.  Earl  Percy,  who  gave  his  vote  for  the  death 
of  the  minstrel  more  from,  this  culpable  inconsideration  than 


138  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

that  thirst  of  blood  which  stimulated  the  voices  of  Soulis  and 
the  Cummins,  proposed — as  he  believed  the  queen  inno- 
cent —  that  to  clear  her,  the  Countess  of  Gloucester  and  the 
French  lady  of  honor  should  be  examined  relative  to  the  cir- 
cumstances mentioned  in  the  letter. 

The  king  immediately  ordered  their  attendance. 

The  royal  Jane  of  Acre  appeared  at  the  first  summons,  and 
spoke  with  an  air  of  truth  and  freedom  from  alarm  which  con- 
vinced every  candid  ear  of  the  innocence  of  the  queen.  Her 
testimony  was,  that  she  believed  the  minstrel  to  be  other  than 
he  seemed ;  but  she  was  certain,  from  the  conversation  which 
the  queen  had  held  with  her  after  the  bishop's  feast,,  that  it 
was  in  this  very  feast  she  had  first  seen  him,  and  that  she  was 
ignorant  of  his  real  rank.  On  being  questioned  by  the  bishop, 
the  countess  acknowledged  that  her  majesty  had  praised  his 
figure,  as  well  as  his  singing  ;  "  yet  no  more,"  added  she,  "than 
she  afterwards  did  to  the  king,  when  she  awakened  his  curi- 
osity to  send  for  him."  Her  highness  continued  to  reply  to 
the  interrogatories  put  to  her  by  saying  that  it  was  in  the  king's 
presence  she  herself  first  saw  the  minstrel ;  and  then  she  thought 
his  demeanor  much  above  his  situation ;  but  when  he  accom- 
panied the  queen  and  herself  into  her  majesty's  apartments,  she 
had  then  an  opportunity  to  observe  him  narrowly  as  the  queen 
engaged  him  in  conversation  ;  and  by  his  answers,  questions,  and 
easy,  yet  respectful,  deportment,  she  became  convinced  he  was 
not  what  he  appeared. 

"And  why,  Jane,"  asked  the  king,  "did  you  not  impart 
these  suspicions  to  your  husband  or  to  me  ? " 

"Because,"  replied  she,  "  remembering  that  my  interference 
on  a  certain  public  occasion  brought  my  late  husband  Clare 
under  your  majesty's  displeasure,  on  my  marriage  with 
Monthermer  I  made  a  solemn  vow  before  my  confessor  never 
to  offend  in  the  like  manner.  And,  besides,  the  countenance 
of  this  stranger  was  so  ingenuous  and  his  sentiments  so  natu- 
ral and  honorable,  I  could  not  suspect  he  came  on  any  disloyal 
errand." 

"  Lady,"  observed  one  of  the  elder  lords,  "  if  you  thought  so 
well  of  the  queen  and  of  this  man,  why  did  you  caution  her 
against  his  smiles,  and  deem  it  necessary  to  persuade  her  not 
to  see  him  again  ?  " 

The  countess  blushed  at  this  question,  but  replied,  "  Because 
I  saw  the  minstrel  was  a  gentleman.  He  possessed  a  noble 
figure  and  a  handsome  face,  in  spite  of  his  Egyptian  skin. 
Like  most  young  gentlemen,  he  might  be  conscious  of  these 


THE    ROUND    TOWER.  139 

advantages,  and  attribute  the  artless  approbation,  the  innocent 
smiles,  of  my  gracious  queen  to  a  source  more  flattering  to  his 
vanity.  I  have  known  many  lords,  not  far  from  your  majesty, 
make  similar  mistakes  on  as  little  grounds,"  added  she,  looking 
disdainfully  towards  some  of  the  younger  nobles,  "  and  there- 
fore, to  prevent  such  insolence,  I  desired  his  final  dismission/' 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  Jane,"  replied  the  king ;  "  you  almost 
persuade  me  of  Margaret's  innocence." 

"  Believe  it,  sire,"  cried  she  with  animation ;  "  whatever 
romantic  thoughtlessness  her  youth  and  inexperience  may  have 
led  her  into,  I  pledge  my  life  on  her  purity." 

"  First,  let  us  hear  what  that  French  woman  has  to  say  to 
the  assignation,"  exclaimed  Soulis,  whose  polluted  heart  could 
not  suppose  the  existence  of  true  purity,  and  whose  cruel 
disposition  exulted  in  torturing  and  death.  "  Question  her, 
and  then  her  majesty  may  have  full  acquittal." 

Again  the  brow  of  Edward  was  overcast.  The  fiends  of 
jealousy  once  more  tugged  at  his  heart,  and  ordering  the 
Countess  of  Gloucester  to  withdraw,  he  commanded  the  Baron- 
ess de  Pontoise  to  be  brought  into  the  presence. 

When  she  saw  the  king's  threatening  looks  and  beheld  the 
fearful  expression  which  shot  from  every  surrounding  coun- 
tenance she  shrunk  with  terror.  Long  hackneyed  in  secret 
gallantries,  the  same  inward  whisper  which  had  proclaimed  to 
Soulis  that  the  queen  was  guilty  induced  her  to  believe  that 
she  had  been  the  confidante  of  an  illicit  passion,  and  therefore, 
though  she  knew  nothing  really  bad  of  her  unhappy  mistress, 
yet  fancying  that  she  did,  she  stood  before  the  royal  tribunal 
with  the  air  and  aspect  of  a  culprit. 

"Repeat  to  me,"  demanded  the  king,  "or  answer  it  with 
your  head,  all  that  you  know  of  Queen  Margaret's  intimacy 
with  the  man  who  calls  himself  a  minstrel." 

At  these  words,  which  were  delivered  in  a  tone  that  seemed 
the  sentence  of  death,  the  French  woman  fell  on  her  knees, 
and  in  a  burst  of  terror  exclaimed,  "  Sire,  I  will  reveal  all,  if 
your  majesty  will  grant  me  a  pardon  for  having  too  faithfully 
served  my  mistress." 

"  Speak  !  speak  !  "  cried  the  king  with  desperate  impatience. 
"I  swear  to  pardon  you  even  if  you  have  joined  in  a  con- 
spiracy against  my  life ;  but  speak  the  truth,  and  all  the  truth, 
that  judgment  without  mercy  may  fall  on  the  guilty  heads." 

"  Then  I  obey,"  answered  the  baroness. 

"  Foul  betrayer  !  "  half-exclaimed  Gloucester,  turning  dis- 
appointed away.  "  Oh  !  what  it  is  to  be  vile,  and  to  trust  the 


140  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

vile  !  But  virtue  will  not  be  auxiliary  to  vice,  and  so  wick- 
edness falls  by  its  own  agents  ! " 

The  baroness,  raised  from  her  kneeling  position  by  Soulis, 
began : 

"  The  only  time  I  ever  heard  of  or  saw  this  man  to  my  knowl- 
edge was  when  he  was  brought  to  play  before  my  lady  at  the 
bishop's  banquet.  I  did  not  much  observe  him,  being  engaged 
in  conversation  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  so  I  cannot  say 
whether  I  might  not  have  seen  him  in  France ;  for  many  noble 
lords  adored  the  Princess  Margaret,  though  she  appeared  to 
frown  upon  them  all.  But  I  must  confess  when  I  attended 
her  majesty's  disrobing  after  the  feast  she  put  to  me  so  many 
questions  about  what  I  thought  of  the  minstrel  who  had  sung 
so  divinely  that  I  began  to  think  her  admiration  too  great  to 
have  been  awakened  by  a  mere  song.  And  then  she  asked  me 
if  a  king  could  have  a  nobler  air  than  he  had,  and  she  laughed 
and  said  she  would  send  your  majesty  to  school  to  learn  of 
him." 

"  Damnable  traitress  !  "  exclaimed  the  king.  The  baroness 
paused,  and  retreated  from  before  the  sudden  fury  which 
flashed  from  his  eyes.  "  Go  on  ! "  cried  he  ;  "  hide  neither 
word  nor  circumstance,  that  my  vengeance  may  lose  nothing 
of  its  aim. " 

She  proceeded :  "  Her  majesty  then  talked  of  his  beautiful 
eyes ;  so  blue,  she  said,  so  tender,  yet  proud  in  their  looks, 
and  only  a  minstrel  !  <De  Pontoise,'  added  she,  'can  you 
explain  that  ? '  I,  being  rather,  perhaps,  too  well  learned  in  the 
idle  tales  of  our  troubadours,  heedlessly  answered,  '  Perhaps 
he  is  some  king  in  disguise,  just  come  to  look  at  your  majesty's 
charms,  and  go  away  again. '  She  laughed  much  at  this  con- 
ceit, said  he  must  be  one  of  Pharaoh's  race  then,  and  that  had 
he  not  such  white  teeth,  his  complexion  would  be  intolerable. 
Being  pleased  to  see  her  majesty  in  such  spirits,  and  thinking 
no  ill,  I  sportively  answered,  '  I  read  once  of  a  certain  Spanish 
lover  who  went  to  the  court  of  Tunis  to  carry  off  the  king's 
daughter,  and  he  had  so  black  a  face  that  none  suspected  him 
to  be  other  than  the  Moorish  Prince  of  Granada ;  when  lo !  one 
day  in  a  pleasure-party  on  the  sea  he  fell  overboard  and  came 
up  with  the  fairest  face  in  the  world,  and  presently  acknowl- 
edged himself  to  be  the  Christian  King  of  Castile.'  The  queen 
laughed  at  this  story,  but  not  answering  me,  went  to  bed. 
Next  morning  when  I  entered  her  chamber  she  received  me 
with  even  more  gayety,  and  putting  aside  my. coiffure  said, 
1  Let  me  see  if  I  can  find  the  devil's  mark  here  ! '  —  '  What  is 


THE    ROUND    TOWER.  141 

the  matter  ?  J  I  asked  ;  ( does  your  majesty  take  me  for  a 
witch  ?  '  —  '  Exactly  so, '  she  replied, '  for  a  little  sprite  told  me 
last  night  that  all  you  said  was  true.'  And  then  she  began  to 
tell  me  with  many  smiles  that  she  had  dreamt  the  minstrel 
was  the  very  Prince  of  Portugal,  whom,  unseen,  she  had  refused 
for  the  King  of  England,  and  that  he  gave  her  a  harp  set  with 
jewels.  She  then  went  to  your  majesty,  and  I  saw  no  more 
of  her  till  she  sent  for  me  late  in  the  evening.  She  seemed 
very  angry.  'You  are  faithful, '  said  she  to  me,  'and  you 
know  me,  De  Pontoise,  you  know  me  too  proud  to  degrade  my- 
self, and  too  high-minded  to  submit  'to  tyranny.  The  Countess 
of  Gloucester,  with  persuasions  too  much  like  commands,  will 
not  allow  me  to  see  the  minstrel  any  more/  She  then 
declared  her  determination  that  she  would  see  him,  that  she 
would  feign  herself  sick,  and  he  should  come  and  sing  to  her 
when  she  was  alone,  and  that  she  was  sure  he  was  too  modest 
to  presume  on  her  condescension.  I  said  something  to  dissuade 
her,  but  she  overruled  me,  and,  shame  to  myself,  I  consented 
to  assist  her.  She  embraced  me  and  gave  me  a  letter  to  convey 
to  him,  which  I  did  by  slipping  it  beneath  the  ornaments  of 
the  handle  of  her  lute,  which  I  sent  as  an  excuse  for  the 
minstrel  to  tune.  It  was  to  acquaint  him  with  her  intentions, 
and  this  night  he  was  to  have  visited  her  apartment." 

During  this  recital,  the  king  sat  with  compressed  lips  listen- 
ing, but  with  a  countenance  proclaiming  the  collecting  tempest 
within,  changing  to  livid  paleness  or  portentous  fire  at  almost 
every  sentence.  On  mentioning  the  letter  he  clenched  his 
hand  as  if  then  he  grasped  the  thunderbolt.  The  lords  imme- 
diately apprehended  that  this  was  the  letter  which  Soulis 
found. 

"  And  is  this  all  you  know  of  the  affair  ?  "  inquired  Percy, 
seeing  that  she  made  a  pause.  "And  enough,  too,"  cried 
Soulis,  "  to  blast  the  most  vaunted  chastity  in  Christendom." 

"  Take  the  woman  hence,"  cried  the  king,  in  a  burst  of  wrath 
that  gave  his  voice  a  preternatural  force,  which  yet  resounded 
from  the  vaulted  roof  while  he  added,  "  never  let  me  see 
her  traitor  face  again ! "  The  baroness  withdrew  in  terror, 
and  Edward,  calling  Sir  Piers  Gaveston,  commanded  him  to 
place  himself  at  the  head  of  a  double  guard  and  go  in  person 
to  bring  the  object  of  his  officious  introduction  to  meet  the 
punishment  due  to  his  crime.  "  For,"  cried  the  king,  "  be  he 
prince  or  peasant,  I  will  see  him  hanged  before  my  eyes,  and 
then  return  his  wanton  paramour,  branded  with  infamy,  to  her 
disgraced  family." 


142  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Soulis  now  suggested  that  as  the  delinquent  was  to  be  found 
with  Bruce,  most  likely  that  young  nobleman  was  privy  to  his 
designs.  "  We  shall  see  to  him  hereafter/'  replied  the  king ; 
"  meanwhile  look  that  I  am  obeyed." 

The  moment  this  order  passed  the  king's  lips  Gloucester, 
now  not  doubting  the  queen's  guilt,  hastened  to  warn  Bruce  of 
what  had  occurred,  that  he  might  separate  himself  from  the 
crime  of  a  man  who  appeared  to  have  been  under  his  protec- 
tion. But  when  he  found  that  the  accused  was  no  other  than 
the  universally  feared,  universally  beloved,  and  generous  Wal- 
lace, all  other  considerations  were  lost  in  the  desire  of  deliver- 
ing him  from  the  impending  danger.  He  knew  the  means,  and 
he  did  not  hesitate  to  employ  them. 

During  the  recital  of  this  narrative  Gloucester  narrowly 
observed  his  auditor,  and  by  the  ingenuous  bursts  of  his 
indignation,  and  the  horror  he  evinced  at  the  crime  he  was 
suspected  of  having  committed,  the  earl,  while  more  fully  con- 
vinced of  his  innocence,  easily  conceived  how  the  queen's  sen- 
timents for  him  might  have  gone  no  farther  than  a  childish 
admiration,  very  pardonable  in  a  guileless  creature  hardly  more 
than  sixteen. 

"  See,"  cried  Wallace,  "  the  power  which  lies  with  the 
describer  of  actions !  The  chaste  mind  of  your  countess  saw 
nothing  in  the  conduct  of  the  queen  but  thoughtless  simplic- 
ity. The  contaminated  heart  of  the  Baroness  de  Pontoise 
descried  passion  in  every  word,  wantonness  in  every  movement, 
and,  judging  of  her  mistress  by  herself,  she  has  wrought  this 
mighty  ruin.  How  then  does  it  behoove  virtue  to  admit  the 
virtuous  only  to  her  intimacy;  association  with  the  vicious 
makes  her  to  be  seen  in  their  colors !  Impress  the  king  with 
this  self-evident  conclusion,  and  were  it  not  for  endangering 
the  safety  of  Bruce,  the  hope  of  my  country,  I  myself  would 
return  and  stake  my  life  on  proving  the  innocence  of  the 
Queen  of  England.  But,  if  a  letter,  with  my  word  of  honor, 
could  convince  the  king  —  " 

"  I  accept  the  offer,"  interrupted  Gloucester.  "  I  am  too 
warmly  the  friend  of  Bruce,  too  truly  grateful  to  you,  to 
betray  either  into  danger ;  but  from  Sunderland,  whither  I 
recommend  you  to  go  and  there  embark  for  France,  write  the 
declaration  you  mention  and  enclose  it  to  me.  I  can  contrive 
that  the  king  shall  have  your  letter  without  suspecting  by 
what  channel,  and  then  I  trust  all  will  be  well." 

During  this  discourse  they  passed  on  through  the  vaulted 
passage,  till,  arriving  at  a  wooden  crucifix  which  marked  the 


GALLIC    SEAS.  143 

boundary  of  the  domain  of  Durham,  Gloucester  stopped.  "  I 
must  not  go  farther.  Should  I  prolong  my  stay  from  the 
castle  during  the  search  for  you,  suspicion  may  be  awakened. 
You  must,  therefore,  proceed  alone.  Go  straight  forward,  and 
at  the  extremity  of  the  vault  you  will  find  a  flagstone  sur- 
mounted like  the  one  by  which  we  descended ;  raise  it,  and  it 
will  let  you  into  the  cemetery  of  the  abbey  of  Fincklay.  One 
end  of  that  buryjng-place  is  always  open  to  the  east.  Thence 
you  will  emerge  to  the  open  world,  and  may  it  in  future,  noble 
Wallace,  ever  treat  you  according  to  your  unequalled  merits. 
Farewell ! " 

The  earl  turned  to  retrace  his  steps,  and  Wallace  pursued 
his  way  through  the  rayless  darkness  towards  the  Fincklay 
extremity  of  the  vault.1 


CHAPTER  LX. 

GALLIC    SEAS. 

WALLACE,  having  issued  from  his  subterranean  journey, 
made  direct  to  Sunderland,  where  he  arrived  about  sunrise. 
A  vessel  belonging  to  France  (which  since  the  marriage  of 
Margaret  with  Edward  had  been  in  amity  with  England  as 
well  as  Scotland)  rode  there,  waiting  a  favorable  wind.  Wal- 
lace secured  a  passage  in  her,  and  going  on  board,  wrote  his 
promised  letter  to  Edward.  It  ran  thus : 

"This  testament  is  to  assure  Edward,  King  of  England, 
upon  the  word  of  a  knight,  that  Queen  Margaret,  his  wife,  is 
in  every  respect  guiltless  of  the  crimes  alleged  against  her 
by  the  Lord  Soulis  and  sworn  to  by  the  Baroness  de  Pontoise. 
I  came  to  the  court  of  Durham  on  an  errand  connected  with 
my  country,  and  that  I  might  be  unknown  I  assumed  the  dis- 
guise of  a  minstrel.  By  accident  I  encountered  Sir  Piers 
Gaveston ;  and,  ignorant  that  I  was  other  than  I  seemed,  he 
introduced  me  at  the  royal  banquet.  It  was  there  I  first  saw 

1  There  are  few  scenes  more  romantic  than  those  which  surround  the  palatine  city 
of  Durham.  Hill  and  dale,  wood  and  water,  and  historical  recollections  to  people 
them  with  the  most  interesting  inhabitants  at  every  step.  The  sight  of  this  ancient 
city  itself,  covering  a  large  insulated  hill  round  which  the  river  Wear  winds  its  clear 
and  green-banked  stream  (a  natural  and  beautiful  fosse),  can  hardly  be  equalled,  and 
certainly  not  excelled,  in  any  country.  The  ancient  cathedral,  coeval  in  date  with  the 
introduction  of  Christianity  itself  into  this  island,  stands  in  venerable  grandeur  on  the 
summit  of  this  fortress-hill,  with  the  ruins  of  the  old  castle  tower  and  the  present  epis- 
copal palace  within  the  picturesque  area  of  its  former  embattled  walls.  The  great 
philanthropist  Howard,  when  he  visited  it  nearly  half  a  century  ago,  called  it "  the 
British  Hion."  —  (1809.) 


144  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

her  majesty.  And  I  never  had  that  honor  but  three  times: 
one  I  have  named,  the  second  was  in  your  royal  presence, 
and  the  third  and  last  in  her  apartments,  to  which  your 
majesty's  self  saw  me  withdraw.  The  Countess  of  Gloucester 
was  present  the  whole  time,  and  to  her  highness  I  appeal. 
The  queen  saw  in  me  only  a  minstrel ;  on  my  art  alone  as  a 
musician  was  her  favor  bestowed,  and  by  expressing  it  with 
an  ingenuous  warmth  which  none  other  than  an  innocent  heart 
would  have  dared  to  display,  she  has  thus  exposed  herself  to 
the  animadversions  of  libertinism,  and  to  the  false  represen- 
tations of  a  terror-struck,  because  worthless,  friend. 

"  I  have  escaped  the  snare  which  the  queen's  enemies  laid 
for  me,  and  for  her  sake,  for  the  sake  of  truth  and  your  own 
peace,  King  Edward,  I  declare  before  the  Searcher  of  all 
hearts,  and  before  the  world,  in  whose  esteem  I  hope  to  live 
and  die,  that  your  wife  is  innocent.  And  should  I  ever  meet 
the  man  who,  after  this  declaration,  dares  to  unite  her  name 
with  mine  in  a  tale  of  infamy,  by  the  power  of  truth  I 
swear  that  I  will  make  him  write  a  recantation  with  his  blood. 
Pure  as  a  virgin's  chastity  is,  and  shall  ever  be,  the  honor  of 
William  Wallace." 

This  letter  was  enclosed  in  one  to  the  Earl  of  Gloucester, 
and  having  despatched  his  packet  to  Durham,  the  Scottish 
chief  gladly  saw  a  brisk  wind  blow  up  from  the  north-west. 
The  ship  weighed  anchor,  cleared  the  harbor,  and,  under  a  fair 
sky,  swiftly  cut  the  waves  towards  the  Gallic  shores.  But  ere 
she  reached  them,  the  warlike  star  of  Wallace  directed  to  his 
little  bark  the  terrific  sails  of  the  Red  Reaver,1  a  formidable 
pirate  who  then  infested  the  Gallic  seas,  swept  their  commerce, 
and  insulted  their  navy.  He  attacked  the  French  vessel,  but 
it  carried  a  greater  than  Caesar  and  his  fortunes :  Wallace  and 
his  destiny  were  there,  and  the  enemy  struck  to  the  Scottish 
chief.  The  Red  Reaver  (so  surnamed  because  of  his  red  sails 
and  sanguinary  deeds)  was  killed  in  the  action,  but  his  younger 
brother,  Thomas  de  Longueville,  was  found  alive  within  the 
captive  ship,  and  a  yet  greater  prize,  Prince  Louis  of  France, 
who,  having  been  out  the  day  before  on  a  sailing-party,  had 
been  descried  and  seized  as  an  invaluable  booty  by  the  Red 
Reaver.8 

Adverse  winds  for  some  time  prevented  Wallace  from  reach- 

1  The  poet  blind  Harrie  gave  a  very  interesting  account  of  the  particulars  of  this 
naval  engagement.    The  author  of  the  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs  "  dedicated  a  chapter  to  the 
same  subject;  but  rinding,  while  writing,  that  it  would  swell  her  pages  too  largely,  she 
superseded  it  by  these  few  summary  lines.  —  (1809.) 

2  AB  the  story  advances,  there  will  be  a  note  or  two  relating  to  this  Paul  Jones  o/ 
»ncient  times.  —  (1809.) 


GALLIC    SEAS.  145 

ing  port  with  his  capture ;  but  on  the  fourth  day  after  the 
victory  he  cast  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  Havre.  The  indispo- 
sition of  the  prince  from  a  wound  he  had  received  in  his  own 
conflict  with  the  Reaver  made  it  necessary  to  apprise  King 
Philip  of  the  accident.  In  answer  to  Wallace's  despatches  on 
this  subject,  the  grateful  monarch  added  to  the  proffers  of 
personal  friendship,  which  had  been  the  substance  of  his 
majesty's  embassy  to  Scotland,  a  pressing  invitation  that  the 
Scottish  chief  would  accompany  the  prince  to  Paris,  and  there 
receive  a  public  mark  of  royal  gratitude,  which,  with  due 
honor,  should  record  this  service  done  to  France,  to  future 
ages.  Meanwhile  Philip  sent  the  chief  a  suit  of  armor,  with 
a  request  that  he  would  wear  it  in  remembrance  of  France  and 
his  own  heroism.  But  nothing  could  tempt  Wallace  to  turn 
aside  from  his  duty.  Impatient  to  pursue  his  journey  towards 
the  spot  where  he  hoped  to  meet  Bruce,  he  wrote  a  respectful 
excuse  to  the  king,  but  arraying  himself  in  the  monarch's 
martial  present  (to  assure  his  majesty  by  the  evidence  of  his 
son  that  his  royal  wish  had  bee;i  so  far  obeyed)  he  went  to 
the  prince  to  bid  him  farewell.  Louis  was  preparing  for  their 
departure,  all  three  together,  with  young  De  Longueville 
(whose  pardon  Wallace  had  obtained  from  the  king,  on 
account  of  the  youth's  abhorrence  of  the  service,  which  his 
brother  had  compelled  him  to  adopt)  ;  and  the  two  young 
men,  from  different  feelings,  expressed  their  disappointment 
when  they  found  that  their  benefactor  was  going  to  leave  them. 
Wallace  gave  his  highness  a  packet  for  the  king,  containing  a 
brief  statement  of  his  vow  to  Lord  Mar,  and  a  promise  that 
when  he  had  fulfilled  it,  Philip  should  see  him  at  Paris.  The 
royal  cavalcade  then  separated  from  the  deliverer  of  its  prince, 
and  Wallace,  mounting  a  richly  barbed  Arabian,  which  had 
accompanied  his  splendid  armor,  took  the  road  to  Eouen. 

BANKS    OF    THE    WEAR. 

Meanwhile  events  not  less  momentous  took  place  at  Dur- 
ham. The  instant  Wallace  had  followed  the  Earl  of  Gloucester 
from  the  apartment  in  the  castle,  it  was  entered  by  Sir  Piers 
Gaveston.  He  demanded  the  minstrel.  Bruce  replied  he 
knew  not  where  he  was.  Gaveston,  eager  to  convince  the  king 
that  he  was  no  accomplice  with  the  suspected  person,  put  the 
question  a  second  time,  and  in  a  tone  which  he  meant  should 
intimidate  the  Scottish  prince.  "  Where  is  the  minstrel  ?  "  — 
"I  know  not,"  replied  Bruce.  —  "And  will  you  dare  to  tell  me, 

Vol.  II.— 10 


146  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

earl,"  asked  his  interrogator,  "  that  within  this  quarter  of  an 
hour  he  has  not  been  in  this  tower,  nay,  in  this  very  room  ? 
The  guards  in  your  ante-chamber  have  told  me  that  he  was, 
and  can  Lord  Carrick  stoop  to  utter  a  falsehood  to  screen  a 
wandering  beggar  ?  " 

While  he  was  speaking  Bruce  stood  eying  him  wilh  increas- 
ing scorn.  Gaveston  paused.  "You  expect  me  to  answer 
you?"  said  the  prince.  "Out  of  respect  to  myself,  I  will; 
for  such  is  the  unsullied  honor  of  Robert  Bruce  that  even 
the  air  shall  not  be  tainted  with  slander  against  his  truth 
without  being  repurified  by  its  confutation.  Gaveston,  you 
have  known  me  five  years ;  two  of  them  we  passed  together 
in  the  jousts  of  Flanders,  and  yet  you  believe  me  capable  of 
fals-ehood !  Know  then,  unworthy  of  the  esteem  I  have 
bestowed  on  you,  that  neither  to  save  mean  nor  great  would  I 
deviate  from  the  strict  line  of  truth.  The  man  you  seek  may 
have  been  in  this  tower,  in  this  room,  as  you  at  present  are, 
and  as  little  am  I  bound  to  know  where  he  now  is  as  whither 
you  go  when  you  relieve  me  from  an  inquisition  which  I  hold 
myself  accountable  to  no  man  to  answer."  —  "  'Tis  well,"  cried 
Gaveston ;  "  and  I  am  to  carry  this  haughty  message  to  the 
king  ?  "  —  "  If  you  deliver  it  as  a  message,"  answered  Bruce, 
"you  will  prove  that  they  who  are  ready  to  suspect  falsehood 
find  its  utterance  easy.  My  reply  is  to  you.  When  King 
Edward  speaks  to  me,  I  shall  find  the  answer  that  is  due  to 
him."  —  "  These  attempts  to  provoke  me  into  a  private  quar- 
rel," cried  Gaveston,  "  will  not  succeed.  I  am  not  to  be  so 
foiled  in  my  duty.  I  must  seek  the  man  through  your  apart- 
ments."—  "By  whose  authority?"  demanded  Bruce.  —  "By 
my  own  as  the  loyal  subject  of  my  outraged  monarch.  He 
bade  me  bring  the  traitor  before  him,  and  thus  I  obey."  While 
speaking  Gaveston  beckoned  to  his  attendants  to  follow  him 
to  the  door  whence  Wallace  had  disappeared.  Bruce  threw 
himself  before  it.  "  I  must  forget  the  duty  I  owe  to  myself 
before  I  allow  you  or  any  other  man  to  invade  my  privacy.  I 
have  already  given  you  the  answer  that  becomes  Robert  Bruce, 
and  in  respect  to  your  knighthood,  instead  of  compelling  I 
request  you  to  withdraw."  Gaveston  hesitated  ;  but  he  knew 
the  determined  character  of  his  opponent,  and  therefore,  with 
no  very  good  grace,  muttering  that  he  should  hear  of  it  from  a 
more  powerful  quarter  he  left  the  room. 

And  certainly  his  threats  were  not  in  this  instance  vain,  for 
prompt  was  the  arrival  of  a  marshal  and  his  officers  to  force 
Bruce  before  the  king. 


GALLIC    SEAS.  147 

"  Robert  Bruce,  Earl  of  Cleveland,  Carrick,  and  Annandale, 
1  come  to  summon  you  into  the  presence  of  your  liege  lord, 
Edward  of  England." 

"  The  Earl  of  Cleveland  obeys,  "  replied  Bruce,  and  with  a 
fearless  step  he  walked  out  before  the  marshal. 

When  he  entered  the  presence  chamber,  Sir  Piers  Gaveston 
stood  beside  the  royal  couch  as  if  prepared  to  be  his  accuser. 
The  king  sat  supported  by  pillows,  paler  with  the  mortification 
of  jealousy  and  baffled  authority  than  from  the  effects  of  his 
wounds.  "  Robert  Bruce  ! "  cried  he ;  the  moment  his  eyes  fell 
on  him ;  but  the  sight  of  his  mourning  habit  made  a  stroke 
upon  his  heart  that  sent  out  evidence  of  remorse  in  large  glob- 
ules on  his  forehead ;  he  paused,  wiped  his  face  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  resumed:  "Are  you  not  afraid,  presumptuous 
young  man,  thus  to  provoke  your  sovereign?  Are  you  not 
afraid  that  I  shall  make  that  audacious  head  answer  for  the 
man  whom  you  thus  dare  to  screen  from  my  just  revenge  ?  " 
Bruce  felt  all  the  injuries  he  had  suffered  from  this  proud  king 
rush  at  once  upon  his  memory,  and  without  changing  his  posi- 
tion or  lowering  the  lofty  expression  of  his  looks  he  firmly 
answered :  "  The  judgment  of  a  just  king  I  cannot  fear,  the 
sentence  of  an  unjust  one  I  despise.  "  —  "  This  to  his  majesty's 
face  ! "  exclaimed  Soulis.  "  Insolence,77  "Rebellion,"  "  Chastise- 
ment," even  "  Death,"  were  the  words  which  murmured  round 
the  room  at  the  honest  reply.  Edward  had  too  much  sense  to 
echo  any  one  of  them,  but  turning  to  Bruce  with  a  sensation 
of  shame  he  would  gladly  have  repressed,  he  said  —  that  in 
consideration  of  his  youth  he  would  pardon  him  what  had 
passed,  and  reinstate  him  in  all  the  late  Earl  of  Carrick's 
honors,  if  he  would  immediately  declare  where  he  had  hidden 
the  offending  minstrel.  "  I  have  not  hidden  him,  "  cried  Bruce, 
"  nor  do  I  know  where  he  is ;  but  had  that  been  confided  to  me, 
as  I  know  him  to  be  an  innocent  man,  no  power  on  earth  should 
have  wrenched  him  from  me." 

"  Self-sufficient  boy  !  "  exclaimed  Earl  Buchan  with  a  laugh 
of  contempt,  "  do  you  flatter  yourself  that  he  would  trust  such 
a  novice  as  you  are  with  secrets  of  this  nature  ? "  Bruce 
turned  on  him  an  eye  of  fire.  "  Buchan,  "  replied  he,  "  I  will 
answer  you  on  other  ground.  Meanwhile  remember  that  the 
secrets  of  good  men  are  open  to  every  virtuous  heart,  those  of 
the  wicked  they  would  be  glad  to  conceal  from  themselves. " 

"Robert  Bruce,"  cried  the  king,  "-before  I  came  this  north- 
ern journey  I  ever  found  you  one  of  the  most  devoted  of  my 
servants,  the  gentlest  youth  in  my  court,  and  how  do  I  see  you 


148  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

at  this  moment  ?  Braving  my  nobles  to  my  face.  How  is  it 
that  until  now  this  spirit  never  broke  forth?"  —  " Because,  " 
answered  the  prince,  "until  now  I  had  never  seen  the  virtuous 
friend  whom  you  call  upon  me  to  betray.  "  —  "  Then  you  con- 
fess, "  cried  the  king,  "  that  he  was  an  instigator  to  rebel- 
lion ?" — "I  avow,"  answered  Bruce,  "that  I  never  knew 
what  true  loyalty  was  till  he  taught  it  me.  I  never  knew  the 
nature  of  real  chastity  till  he  explained  it  to  me,  nor  compre- 
hended what  virtue  might  be  till  he  allowed  me  to  see  in  him- 
self incorruptible  fidelity,  bravery  undaunted,  and  a  purity  of 
heart  not  to  be  contaminated.  And  this  is  the  man  on  whom 
these  lords  would  fasten  a  charge  of  treason  and  adultery ! 
But  out  of  the  filthy  depths  of  their  own  breasts  arise  the 
steams  with  which  they  would  blacken  his  fairness.  " 

"  Your  vindication,  "  cried  the  king,  "  confirms  his  guilt. 
You  admit  that  he  is  not  a  minstrel  in  reality.  Wherefore 
then  did  he  steal  in  ambuscade  into  my  palace,  but  to  betray 
either  my  honor  or  my  life  —  perhaps  both  ?  "  —  "  His  errand 
here  was  to  see  me.  "  —  "  Rash  boy  !  "  cried  Edward,  "  then 
you  acknowledge  yourself  a  premeditated  conspirator  against 
me. "  Soulis  now  whispered  in  the  king's  ear,  but  so  low 
that  Bruce  did  not  hear  him,  "  Penetrate  farther,  my  liege  ;  this 
may  be  only  a  false  confession  to  shield  the  queen's  character. 
She  who  has  once  betrayed  her  duty  finds  it  easy  to  reward 
such  handsome  advocates. "  The  scarlet  of  inextinguish- 
able wrath  now  burnt  on  the  face  of  Edward.  t(  I  will  con- 
front them,  "  returned  he,  "  surprise  them  into  betraying  each 
other. " 

By  his  immediate  orders  the  queen  was  brought  in.  She 
leaned  on  the  Countess  of  Gloucester.  "  Jane,"  cried  the 
king,  "  leave  that  woman  ;  let  her  impudence  sustain  her." 
—  "  Rather  her  innocence,  my  lord,"  said  the  countess,  bow- 
ing, and  hesitating  to  obey.  —  "  Leave  her  to  that,"  returned 
the  incensed  husband,  "and  she  would  grovel  on  the  earth 
like  her  own  base  passions.  But  stand  before  me  she  shall, 
and  without  other  support  than  the  devils  within  her."  —  "  For 
pity  !  "  cried  the  queen,  extending  her  clasped  hands  towards 
Edward,  and  bursting  into  tears ;  "  have  mercy  on  me,  for  I 
am  innocent !  "  —  "  Prove  it,  then,"  cried  the  king,  "  by  agree- 
ing with  this  confidant  of  your  minstrel,  and  at  once  tell  me 
by  what  name  you  addressed  him  when  you  allured  him  to  my 
court?  Is  he  French,'  Spanish,  or  English  ?"  —  "  By  the 
Virgin's  holy  purity,  I  swear,"  cried  the  queen,  sinking  on 
her  knees,  "  that  I  never  allured  him  to  this  court ;  I  never 


GALLIC    SEAS.  i53 

behejd  him  till  I  saw  him  at  the  bishop's  banquet;  and,  for 
his  name,  I  know  it  not." —  "  Oh,  vilest  of  the  vile !  "  cried  the 
king,  fiercely  grasping  his  couch ;  "  and  didst  thou  become  a 
wanton  at  a  glance  ?  From  my  sight  this  moment,  or  I  shall 
blast  thee." 

The  queen  dropped  senseless  into  the  arms  of  the  Earl  of 
Gloucester,  who  at  that  moment  entered  from  seeing  Wallace 
through  the  cavern.  At  sight  of  him,  Bruce  knew  that  his 
friend  was  safe,  and  fearless  for  himself,  when  the  cause  of 
outraged  innocence  was  at  stake,  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  By 
one  word,  King  Edward,  I  will  confirm  the  blamelessness  of 
this  injured  queen.  Listen  to  me,  not  as  a  monarch  and  an 
enemy,  but  with  the  unbiassed  judgment  of  man  with  man,  — 
and  then  ask  your  own  brave  heart  if  it  would  be  possible  for 
Sir  William  Wallace  to  be  a  seducer." 

Every  mouth  was  dumb  at  the  enunciation  of  that  name. 
None  dared  open  a  lip  in  accusation,  and  the  king  himself, 
thunderstruck,  alike  with  the  boldness  of  his  conqueror  ventur- 
ing within  the  grasp  of  his  revenge,  and  at  the  daringness  of 
Bruce  in  thus  declaring  his  connection  with  him,  fora  few 
minutes  knew  not  what  to  answer;  only  he  had  received  con- 
viction of  his  wife's  innocence.  He  was  too  well  acquainted 
with  the  history  and  uniform  conduct  of  Wallace  to  doubt 
his  honor  in  this  transaction,  and  though  a  transient  fancy  of 
the  queen's  might  have  had  existence,  yet  he  had  now  no  sus- 
picion of  her  actions.  "  Bruce,"  said  he,  "  your  honesty  has 
saved  the  Queen  of  England.  Though  Wallace  is  my  enemy, 
I  know  him  to  be  of  an  integrity  which  neither  man  nor 
woman  can  shake;  and  therefore,"  added  he,  turning  to  the 
lords,  "I  declare  before  all  who  have  heard  me  so  fiercely 
arraign  my  injured  wife  that  I  believe  her  innocent  of  every 
offence  against  me.  And  whoever,  after  this,  mentions  one 
word  of  what  has  passed  in  these  investigations,  or  even  whis- 
pers that  they  have  been  held,  shall  be  punished  as  guilty  of 
high  treason." 

Bruce  was  then  ordered  to  be  reconducted  to  the  round 
tower,  and  the  rest  of  the  lords  withdrawing  by  command, 
the  king  was  left  with  Gloucester,  his  daughter  Jane,  and  the 
now  reviving  queen,  to  make  his  peace  with  her,  even  on  his 
knees. 

Bruce  was  more  closely  immured  than  ever.  Not  even  his 
senachie  was  allowed  to  approach  him,  and  double  guards 
were  kept  constantly  around  his  prison.  On  the  fourth  day 
of  his  seclusion  an  extra  row  of  iron  bars  was  put  across  his 


149  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

windows.  He  asked  the  captain  of  the  party  the  reason  foi 
this  new  rivet  on  his  captivity,  but  he  received  no  answer. 
His  own  recollection,  however,  solved  the  doubt ;  for  he  could 
not  but  see  that  his  own  declaration  respecting  his  friendship 
with  Wallace  had  increased  the  alarm  of  Edward  respecting 
their  political  views.  One  of  the  warders,  on  having  the  same 
inquiry  put  to  him  which  Bruce  had  addressed  to  his  superior, 
in  a  rough  tone  replied,  "  He  had  best  not  ask  questions, 
lest  he  should  hear  that  his  majesty  had  determined  to  keep 
him  under  Bishop  Beck's  padlock  for  life."  Bruce  was  not  to 
be  deprived  of  hope  by  a  single  evidence,  and,  smiling,  said, 
"There  are  more  ways  of  getting  out  of  a  tyrant's  prison 
than  by  the  doors  and  windows."  —  "  Why,  you  would  not  eat 
through  the  walls,"  cried  the  man.  —  "  Certainly,"  replied  Bruce, 
"  if  I  have  no  other  way,  and  through  the  guards  too."  — 
"  We'll  see  to  that,"  answered  the  man.  —  "  And  feel  it  too,  my 
sturdy  jailer,"  returned  the  prince ;  "  so  look  to  yourself." 
Bruce  threw  himself  recklessly  into  a  chair  as  he  spoke,  while 
the  man,  eying  him  askance,  and  remembering  how  strangely 
the  minstrel  had  disappeared,  began  to  think  that  some  people 
born  in  Scotland  inherited  from  nature  a  necromantic  power 
of  executing  whatever  they  determined. 

Though  careless  in  his  manner  of  treating  the  warder's 
information,  Bruce  thought  of  it  with  anxiety,  and,  lost  in  re- 
flections checkered  with  hope  and  doubt  of  his  ever  effecting 
an  escape,  he  remained  immovable  on  the  spot  where  the  man 
had  left  him,  till  another  sentinel  brought  in  a  lamp.  He  set 
it  down  in  silence  and  withdrew.  Bruce  then  heard  the  bolts 
on  the  outside  of  his  chamber  pushed  into  their  guards. 
"  There  they  go,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  and  those  are  to  be  the 
morning  and  evening  sounds  to  which  I  am  to  listen  all  my 
days.  At  least,  Edward  would  have  it  so.  Such  is  the  grati- 
tude he  shows  to  the  man  who  restored  to  him  his  wife, 
who  restored  to  him  the  consciousness  of  possessing  that 
honor  unsullied  which  is  so  dear  to  every  married  man.  Well, 
Edward,  kindness  might  bind  generous  minds  even  to  forget 
their  rights  ;  but,  thanks  to  you,  neither  in  my  own  person  nor 
for  any  of  my  name  do  I  owe  you  aught  but  to  behold  me 
King  of  Scotland,  and,  please  God,  that  you  shall,  if  the 
prayers  of  faith  may  burst  these  double-steeled  gates  and  set 
me  free." 

While  invocations  to  the  Power  in  which  he  confided,  and 
resolutions  respecting  the  consequences  of  his  hoped-for 
liberty,  by  turns  occupied  his  mind,  he  heard  the  tread  of  a 


GALLIC    SEAS.  153 

foot  in  the  adjoining  passage.  He  listened  breathless,  for  no 
living  creature,  he  thought,  could  be  in  that  quarter  of  the 
building,  as  he  had  suffered  none  to  enter  it  since  Wallace 
had  disappeared  by  that  way.  He  half  rose  from  his  couch 
as  the  door  at  which  he  had  seen  him  last  gently  opened. 
He  started  up,  and  Gloucester,  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand, 
stood  before  him.  The  earl  put  his  finger  on  his  lip,  and,  tak- 
ing Bruce  by  the  hand,  led  him,  as  he  had  done  Wallace,  down 
into  the  vault  which  leads  to  Fincklay  abbey. 

When  safe  in  that  subterraneous  cloister,  the  earl  replied  to 
the  impatient  gratitude  of  Bruce  (who  saw  the  generous 
Gloucester  meant  he  should  follow  the  steps  of  his  friend)  by 
giving  him  a  succinct  account  of  his  motives  for  changing  his 
first  determination,  and  now  giving  him  liberty.  He  had  not 
visited  Bruce  since  the  escape  of  Wallace,  that  he  might  not 
excite  any  new  suspicion  in  Edward  ;  and  the  tower  being  fast 
locked  at  every  usual  avenue,  he  had  now  entered  it  from  the 
Fincklay  side.  He  then  proceeded  to  inform  Bruce  that  after 
his  magnanimous  forgetfulness  of  his  own  safety  to  ensure 
that  of  the  queen  had  produced  a  reconciliation  between  her 
and  her  husband,  Buchan,  Soulis,  and  Athol,  with  one  or  two 
English  lords,  joined  next  day  to  persuade  the  king  that 
Brace's  avowal  respecting  Wallace  had  been  merely  an  inven- 
tion of  his  own  to  screen  some  baser  friend  and  his  royal 
mistress.  They  succeeded  in  reawakening  doubts  in  Edward, 
who,  sending  for  Gloucester,  said  to  him,  "  Unless  I  could  hear 
from  Wallace's  own  lips,  and  (in  my  case  the  thing  is  impos- 
sible) that  he  has  been  here,  and  that  my  wife  is  guiltless  of 
this  foul  stain,  I  must  ever  remain  in  horrible  suspense.  These 
base  Scots,  ever  fertile  in  maddening  suggestions,  have  made 
me  even  suspect  that  Bruce  had  other  reasons  for  his  appar- 
ently generous  risk  of  himself  than  a  love  of  justice." 

While  these  ideas  floated  in  the  mind  of  Edward,  Bruce  had 
been  more  closely  immured.  And  Gloucester,  having  received 
the  promised  letter  from  Wallace,  determined  to  lay  it  before 
the  king.  Accordingly  one  morning  the  earl,  gliding  unob- 
served into  the  presence-chamber  before  Edward  was  brought 
in,  laid  the  letter  under  his  majesty's  cushion.  As  Gloucester 
expected,  the  moment  the  king  saw  the  superscription  he  knew 
the  hand,  and  hastily  breaking  the  seal,  read  the  letter  twice 
over  to  himself  without  speaking  a  word.  But  the  clouds 
which  had  hung  on  his  countenance  all  passed  away,  and  with 
a  smile  reaching  the  -packet  to  Gloucester,  he  commanded 
him  to  read  aloud  "that  silencer  of  all  doubts  respecting 


149  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  honor  of  Margaret  of  France  and  England."  Gloucester 
obeyed,  and  the  astonished  nobles,  looking  on  each  other,  one 
and  all  assented  to  the  credit  that  ought  to  be  given  to 
Wallace's  word,  and  deeply  regretted  having  ever  joined  in  a 
suspicion  against  her  majesty.  Thus,  then,  all  appeared  ami- 
cably settled.  But  the  embers  of  discord  still  glowed.  The 
three  Scottish  lords,  afraid  lest  Bruce  might  be  again  taken 
into  favor,  labored  to  show  that  his  friendship  with  Wallace 
pointed  to  his  throwing  off  the  English  yoke  and  independ- 
ently assuming  the  Scottish  crown.  Edward  required  no 
arguments  to  convince  him  of  the  probability  of  this,  and  he 
readily  complied  with  Bishop  Beck's  request  to  allow  him  to 
hold  the  royal  youth  his  prisoner.  But  while  the  Cummins 
won  this  victory  over  Bruce,  they  gained  -nothing  for  them- 
selves. During  the  king's  vain  inquiries  respecting  the 
manner  in  which  Wallace's  letter  had  been  conveyed  to  the 
apartment,  they  had  -ventured  to  throw  out  hints  of  Bruce 
having  been  the  agent,  by  some  secret  means,  and  that 
however  innocent  the  queen  might  be,  he  certainly  evinced 
by  such  solicitude  for  her  exculpation  a  more  than  usual 
interest  in  her  person.  These  latter  innuendoes  the  king 
crushed  in  the  first  whisper.  "  I  have  done  enough  with 
Robert  Bruce,"  said  he.  "He  is  condemned  a  prisoner 
for  life,  and  mere  suspicion  shall  never  provoke  me  to  give 
sentence  for  his  death."  Irritated  by  this  reply  and  the  con- 
temptuous glance  with  which  it  was  accompanied,  the  vin- 
dictive triumvirate  turned  from  the  king  to  his  court,  and 
having  failed  in  compassing  the  destruction  of  Bruce  and  his 
more  renowned  friend,  they  determined  at  least  to  make  a 
wreck  of  their  moral  fame.  The  guilt  of  Wallace  and  the 
queen,  and  the  participation  of  Bruce,  was  now  whispered 
through  every  circle  and  credited  in  proportion  to  the  evil 
disposition  of  the  hearers. 

-  One  of  his  pages  at  last  brought  to  the  ears  of  the  king  the 
stories  which  these  lords  so  busily  circulated,  and  sending  for 
them  he  gave  them  so  severe  a  reprimand  that,  retiring  from 
his  presence  in  stifled  wrath,  they  agreed  to  accept  the  invita- 
tion of  young  Lord  Badenoch  to  return  to  their  country  and 
support  him  in  the  regency.  Next  morning  Edward  was 
informed  they  had  secretly  left  Durham,  and  fearing  that 
Bruce  might  also  make  his  escape,  a  consultation  was  held 
between  the  king  and  Beck  of  so  threatening  a  complexion 
that  Gloucester  no  longer  hesitated  to  *run  all  risks,  but  imme- 
diately to  give  the  Scottish  prince  his  liberty. 


NORMANDY.  153 

Having  led  him  in  safety  through  the  vaulted  passage,  they 
parted  in  the  cemetery  of  Fineklay,  Gloucester  to  walk  back 
to  Durham  by  the  banks  of  the  Wear,  and  Bruce  to  mount 
the  horse  the  good  earl  had  left  tied  to  a  tree  to  convey  him 
to  Hartlepool.  There  he  embarked  for  Normandy. 

When  he  arrived  at  Caen  he  made  no  delay,  but  taking  a 
rapid  course  across  the  country  towards  Rouen,  on  the  second 
evening  of  his  travelling,  having  pursued  his  route  without 
sleep,  he  felt  himself  so  overcome  with  fatigue  that  in  the 
midst  of  a  vast  and  dreary  plain  he  found  it  necessary  to  stop 
for  rest  at  the  first  habitation  he  might  find.  It  happened  to 
be  the  abode  of  one  of  those  poor  but  pious  matrons  who, 
attaching  themselves  to  some  neighboring  order  of  charity,  live 
alone  in  desert  places  for  the  purpose  of  succoring  distressed 
travellers.  Here  Bruce  found  the  widow's  cruse  and  a  pallet 
to  repose  his  wearied  limbs. 


CHAPTER    LXI. 

NORMANDY. 

WALLACE,  having  separated  from  the  prince  royal  of 
France,  pursued  his  solitary  way  towards  the  capital  of  Nor- 
mandy, till  night  overtook  him  ere  he  was  aware.  Clouds  so 
obscured  the  sky  that  not  a  star  was  visible,  and  his  horse, 
terrified  at  the  impenetrable  darkness  and  the  difficulties  of 
the  path,  which  lay  over  a  barren  and  stony  moor,  suddenly 
stopped.  This  aroused  Wallace  from  a  long  fit  of  musing  to 
look  around  him,  but  on  which  side  lay  the  road  to  Rouen, 
he  could  form  no  guess.  To  pass  the  night  in  so  exposed  a 
spot  might  be  dangerous,  and  spurring  the  animal  he  deter- 
mined to  push  onward. 

He  had  ridden  nearly  another  hour  when  the  dead  silence 
of  the  scene  was  broken  by  the  roll  of  distant  thunder.  Then 
forked  lightning  shooting  from  the  horizon  showed  a  line  of 
country  unmarked  by  any  vestige  of  human  habitation.  Still 
he  proceeded.  The  storm  approached  till,  breaking  in  peals 
over  his  head,  it  discharged  such  sheets  of  livid  fire  at  his 
feet  that  the  horse  reared,  and,  plunging  amidst  the  blaze, 
flashed  the  light  of  his  rider's  armor  on  the  eyes  of  a  troop 
of  horsemen,  who  also  stood  under  the  tempest,  gazing  with 
affright  at  the  scene.  Wallace,  by  the  same  transitory  illu- 


154  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

mination,  saw  the  travellers  as  they  seemed  to  start  back  at 
his  appearance,  and  mistaking  their  apprehension  he  called  to 
them  that  his  well-managed  though  terrified  steed  would  do 
theirs  no  harm.  One  of  them  advanced  and  respectfully 
inquired  of  him  the  way  to  Rouen.  Wallace  replied  that  he 
was  a  stranger  in  this  part  of  the  country,  and  was  also  seek- 
ing that  city.  While  he  was  yet  speaking,  the  thunder  became 
more  tremendous,  and  the  lightning  rolling  in  volumes  along 
the  ground,  the  horses  of  the  troop  became  restive,  and  one 
of  them  threw  its  rider.  Cries  of  lamentation,  mingling  with 
the  groans  of  the  fallen  person,  excited  the  compassion  of 
Wallace.  He  rode  towards  the  spot  whence  the  latter  pro- 
ceeded, and  asked  the  nearest  by-stander  (for  several  had 
alighted)  whether  the  unfortunate  man  were  much  hurt. 
The  answer  returned  was  full  of  alarm  for  the  sufferer,  and 
anxiety  to  obtain  some  place  of  shelter,  for  rain  began  to  fall. 
In  a  few  minutes  it  increased  to  torrents,  and  the  lightning 
ceasing  deepened  the  horrors  of  the  scene  by  preventing  the 
likelihood  of  discovering  any  human  abode.  The  men  gath- 
ered round  .their  fallen  companion,  bewailing  the  prospect  of 
his  perishing  under  these  inclemencies,  but  Wallace  cheered 
them  by  saying  he  would  seek  a  shelter  for  their  friend  and 
blow  his  bugle  when  he  had  found  one.  With  the  word  he 
turned  his  horse,  and  as  he  galloped  along  called  aloud  on 
any  Christian  man  who  might  live  near  to  open  his  doors  to  a 
dying  traveller.  After  riding  about  in  all  directions  he  saw  a 
glimmering  light  for  a  moment,  and  then  all  was  darkness ; 
but  again  he  cried  aloud  for  charity,  and  a  shrill  female  voice 
answered,  "  I  am  a  lone  woman  with  already  one  poor  trav- 
eller in  my  house,  but,  for  the  Virgin's  sake,  I  will  open  my 
door  to  you,  whatever  you  may  be."  The  good  woman  relit 
her  lamp,  which  the  rain  had  extinguished,  and  on  her  unlatch- 
ing her  door,  Wallace  briefly  related  what  had  happened, 
entreating  her  permission  to  bring  the  unfortunate  person  into 
the  cottage.  She  readily  consented,  and  giving  him  a  lantern 
to  guide  his  way,  he  blew  his  bugle,  which  was  instantly 
answered  by  so  glad  and  loud  a  shout  that  it  assured  him  his 
companions  could  not  be  far  distant,  and  that  he  must  have 
made  many  a  useless  circuit  before  he  had  stopped  at  this 
charitable  door. 

The  men  directed  him  through  the  darkness  by  their  voices, 
for  the  lantern  threw  its  beams  but  a  very  little  way,  and  arriv- 
ing at  their  side,  by  his  assistance  the  bruised  traveller  was 
brought  to  the  cottage.  It  was  a  poor  hovel,  but  the  good 


NORMANDY.  155 

woman  had  spread  a  clean  woollen  coverlet  over  her  own  bed, 
in  the  inner  chamber,  and  thither  Wallace  carried  the  invalid. 
He  seemed  in  great  pain ;  but  his  kind  conductor  answered 
their  hostess'  inquiries  respecting  him  with  a  belief  that  no 
bones  were  broken.  "But  yet,'7  cried  she,  "sad  may  be  the 
effects  of  internal  bruises  on  so  emaciated  a  frame.  I  will  vent- 
ure to  disturb  my  other  guest,  who  sleeps  in  the  loft,  and 
bring  down  a  decoction  that  I  keep  there.  It  is  made  from 
simple  herbs,  and  I  am  sure  will  be  of  service." 

The  old  woman,  having  showed  to  the  attendants  where  they 
might  put  their  horses  under  shelter  of  a  shed  which  projected 
from  the  cottage,  ascended  a  few  steps  to  the  chamber  above. 
Meanwhile  the  Scottish  chief,  assisted  by  one  of  the  men,  dis- 
engaged the  sufferer  from  his  wet  garments  and  covered  him 
with  the  blankets  of  the  bed.  Recovered  to  recollection  by 
the  comparative  comfort  of  his  bodily  feelings,  the  stranger 
opened  his  eyes.  He  fixed  them  on  Wallace,  then  looked 
around  and  turned  to  Wallace  again.  "  Generous  knight ! " 
cried  he,  "  I  have  nothing  but  thanks  to  offer  for  this  kind- 
ness. You  seem  to  be  of  the  highest  rank,  and  yet  have  suc- 
cored one  whom  the  world  abjures."  The  knight  returned  a 
courteous  answer,  and  the  invalid,  in  a  paroxysm  of  emotion, 
added,  "  Can  it  be  possible  that  a  prince  of  France  has  dared 
to  act  thus  contrary  to  his  peers  ?  " 

Wallace,  not  apprehending  what  had  given  rise  to  this  ques- 
tion, supposed  the  stranger's  wits  were  disordered,  and  looked 
with  that  inquiry  towards  the  attendant.  Just  at  that  moment 
a  step,  more  active  than  that  of  their  aged  hostess,  sounded 
above,  and  an  exclamation  of  surprise  followed  it  in  a  voice 
that  startled  Wallace.  He  turned  hastily  round,  and  a  young 
man  sprang  from  the  cottage  stairs  into  the  apartment ;  joy 
danced  in  every  feature,  and  the  ejaculation,  "  Wallace ! " 
"  Bruce ! "  burst  at  once  from  the  hearts  of  the  two  friends  as 
they  rushed  into  each  other's  arms.  All  else  present  were  lost 
to  them  in  the  delight  of  meeting  after  so  perilous  a  separa- 
tion—  a  delight  not  confined  for  its  object  to  their  individual 
selves.  Each  saw  in  the  other  the  hope  of  Scotland,  and  when 
they  embraced  it  was  not  merely  with  the  ardor  of  friendship, 
but  with  that  of  patriotism,  rejoicing  in  the  preservation  of 
its  chief  dependence.  While  the  chiefs  freely  spoke  in  their 
native  tongue  before  a  people  who  could  not  be  supposed  to 
understand  them,  the  aged  stranger  on  the  bed  reiterated  his 
moans.  Wallace,  in  a  few  words  telling  Bruce  the  manner  of 
his  rencontre  with  the  sick  man  and  his  belief  that  he  was  dis- 


156  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

ordered  in  his  mind,  drew  towards  the  bed  and  offered  him 
some  of  the  decoction  which  the  woman  now  brought.  The 
invalid  drank  it  and  gazed  earnestly  first  on  Wallace  and  then 
on  Bruce.  "  Pierre,  withdraw,"  cried  he  to  his  personal  attend- 
ant. The  man  obeyed.  "  Sit  down  by  me,  noble  friends,"  said 
he  to  the  Scottish  chiefs,  "  and  read  a  lesson  which  I  pray  ye 
lay  to  your  hearts."  Bruce  glanced  a  look  at  Wallace  that 
declared  he  was  of  his  opinion.  Wallace  drew  a  stool,  while 
his  friend  seated  himself  on  the  bed.  The  old  woman,  perceiv- 
ing something  extraordinary  in  the  countenance  of  the  bruised 
stranger,  thought  he  was  going  to  reveal  some  secret  heavy  on 
his  mind,  and  also  withdrew. 

"  You  think  my  intellects  are  injured,"  resumed  he,  turning 
to  Wallace,  "  because  I  addressed  you  as  one  of  the  house  of 
Philip.  Those  jewelled  lilies  round  your  helmet  led  me  into 
the  error.  I  never  before  saw  them  granted  to  other  than  a 
prince  of  the  blood.  But  think  not,  brave  man,  I  respect  you  less 
since  I  have  discovered  that  you  are  not  of  the  race  of  Philip, 
that  you  are  other  than  a  prince.  Look  on  me,  —  at  this 
emaciated  form,  —  and  behold  the  reverses  of  all  earthly  grand- 
eur. This  palsied  hand  once  held  a  sceptre,  these  hollow  temples 
were  once  bound  with  a  crown.  He  that  used  to  be  followed 
as  the  source  of  honor,  as  the  fountain  of  prosperity,  with 
suppliants  at  his  feet  and  flatterers  at  his  side,  would  now  be 
left  to  solitude  were  it  not  for  these  few  faithful  servants 
who,  in  spite  of  all  changes,  have  preserved  their  allegiance  to 
the  end.  Look  on  me,  chiefs,  and  behold  him  who  was  the 
king  of  Scots." 

At  this  declaration  both  Wallace  and  Bruce,  struck  with  sur- 
prise and  compassion  at  meeting  their  ancient  enemy  reduced 
to  such  abject  misery,  with  one  impulse  bowed  their  heads 
to  him  with  an  air  of  reverence.  The  action  penetrated  the 
heart  of  Baliol.  For  when  at  the  meeting  and  mutual  excla- 
mation of  the  two  friends  he  recognized  in  whose  presence 
he  lay,  he  fearfully  remembered  that,  by  his  base  submissions 
turning  the  scale  of  judgment  in  his  favor,  he  had  defrauded 
the  grandsire  of  the  very  Bruce  now  before  him  of  a  fair  decis- 
ion on  his  rights  to  the  crown,  and  when  he  looked  on  Wal- 
lace, who  had  preserved  him  from  the  effect  of  his  accident  and 
brought  him  to  a  shelter  from  the  raging  terrors  of  the  night, 
his  conscience  doubly  smote  him,  for  from  the  hour  of  his 
elevation  to  that  of  his  downfall  he  had  ever  persecuted  the 
family  of  Wallace,  and  at  the  hour  which  was  the  crisis  of  her 
fate  had  denied  them  the  right  of  drawing  their  swords  in  the 


NORMANDY.  157 

defence  of  Scotland.  He,  her  king,  had  resigned  her  into  the 
hands  of  an  usurper,  but  Wallace,  the  injured  Wallace,  had 
arisen  like  a  star  of  light  on  the  deep  darkness  of  her  captivity, 
and  Scotland  was  once  more  free.  In  the  tempest,  the  exiled 
monarch  had  started  at  the  blaze  of  the  unknown  knight's 
jewelled  panoply ;  at  the  declaration  of  his  name,  he  shrunk 
before  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  and  falling,  back  on  the  bed 
had  groaned  aloud.  To  these  young  men,  so  strangely  brought 
before  him,  and  both  of  whom  he  had  wronged,  he  determined 
immediately  to  reveal  himself,  and  see  whether  they  were 
equally  resentful  of  injuries  as  those  he  had  served  had 
proved  ungrateful  for  benefits  received.  He  spoke,  and  when, 
instead  of  seeing  the  pair  rise  in  indignation  on  his  pronounc- 
ing his  name,  they  bowed  their  heads  and  sat  in  respectful 
silence,  his  desolate  heart  expanded  at  once  to  admit  the  long- 
estranged  emotion,  and  he  burst  into  tears.  He  caught  the 
hand  of  Bruce  who  sat  nearest  to  him,  and  stretching  out  the 
other  to  Wallace,  exclaimed,  "  I  have  not  deserved  this  good- 
ness from  either  of  you.  Perhaps  you  two  are  the  only  men 
now  living  whom  I  ever  greatly  injured,  and  you,  excepting  my 
four  poor  attendants,  are  perhaps  the  only  men  living  who 
would  compassionate  my  misfortunes  ?  " 

"These  are  lessons,  king,"  returned  Wallace  with  rever- 
ence, "to  fit  you  for  a  better  crown.  And  never  in  my  eyes 
did  the  descendant  of  Alexander  seem  so  worthy  of  his  blood." 
The  grateful  monarch  pressed  his  hand.  Bruce  continued  to 
gaze  on  him  with  a  thousand  awful  thoughts  occupying  his 
mind.  Baliol  read  in  his  expressive  countenance  the  reflec- 
tions which  chained  his  tongue.  "  Behold  how  low  is  laid  the 
proud  rival  of  your  grandfather!"  exclaimed  he,  turning  to 
Bruce.  "  I  compassed  a  throne  I  could  not  fill.  I  mistook 
the  robes,  the  homage,  for  the  kingly  dignity.  I  bartered  the 
liberties  of  my  country  for  a  crown  I  knew  not  how  to  wear, 
and  the  insidious  trafficker  not  only  reclaimed  it,  but  repaid 
me  with  a  prison.  There  I  expiated  my  crime  against  the 
upright  Bruce.  Not  one  of  all  the  Scottish  lords  who 
crowded  Edward's  court  came  to  beguile  a  moment  of  sorrow 
from  their  captive  monarch.  Lonely  I  lived,  for  the  tyrant 
even  deprived  me  of  the  comfort  of  seeing  my  fellow-prisoner, 
Lord  Douglas,  he  whom  attachment  to  my  true  interests  had 
betrayed  to  an  English  prison.*  I  never  saw  him  after  the 
day  of  his  being  put  into  the  tower  until  that  of  his  death." 
Wallace  interrupted  the  afflicted  Baliol  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise.  "  Yes,"  added  he,  "  I  myself  closed  his  eyes. 


158  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

At  that  awful  hour  he  had  petitioned  to  see  me,  and  the  boon 
was  granted.  I  went  to  him,  and  then  with  his  dying  breath 
he  spoke  truths  to  me  which  were  indeed  messengers  from 
heaven;  they  taught  me  what  I  was  and  what  I  might  be. 
He  died.  Edward  was  then  in  Flanders,  and  you,  brave  Wal- 
lace, being  triumphant  in  Scotland,  and  laying  such  a  stress 
in  your  negotiations  for  the  return  of  Douglas,  the  Southron 
cabinet  agreed  to  conceal  his  death,  and  by  making  his  name 
an  instrument  to  excite  your  hopes  and  fears,  turn  your  anx- 
iety for  him  to  their  own  advantage." 

A  deep  scarlet  kindled  over  the  face  of  Bruce.  "With 
what  a  race  have  I  been  so  long  connected  !  what  mean  subter- 
fuges, what  dastardly  deceits,  for  the  leaders  of  a  great  nation 
to  adopt !  Oh,  king  !  "  exclaimed  he,  turning  to  Baliol,  "  if 
you  have  errors  to  atone  for,  what  then  must  be  the  penalty 
of  my  sin  for  holding  so  long  with  an  enemy  as  vile  as  he  is 
ambitious  ?  Scotland  !  Scotland !  I  must  weep  tears  of  blood 
for  this ! "  He  rose  in  agitation.  Baliol  followed  him  with 
his  eyes.  "Amiable  Bruce!  you  too  severely  arraign  a  fault 
that  was  venial  in  you.  Your  father  gave  himself  to  Edward, 
and  his  son  accompanied  the  tribute."  Bruce  vehemently 
answered,  "  If  King  Edward  ever  said  that,  he  uttered  a  false- 
hood. My  father  loved  him,  confided  in  him,  and  the  ingrate 
betrayed  him.  His  fidelity  was  no  gift  of  himself,  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  inferiority ;  it  was  the  pledge  of  a  friendship 
exchanged  on  equal  terms  on  the  fields  of  Palestine.  And 
well  did  King  Edward  know  that  he  had  no  right  over  either 
my  father  or  me ;  for  in  the  moment  he  doubted  our  attach- 
ment he  was  aware  of  having  forfeited  %it ;  he  knew  he  had  no 
legal  claim  on  us,  and  forgetting  every  law,  human  and  divine, 
he  made  us  prisoners.  But  my  father  found  liberty  in  the 
grave,  and  I  am  ready  to  take  a  sure  revenge  in " —  he 
would  have  added  "  Scotland,"  but  he  forebore  to  give  the 
last  blow  to  the  unhappy  Baliol  by  showing  him  that  his 
kingdom  had  indeed  passed  from  him,  and  that  the  man  was 
before  him  who  might  be  destined  to  wield  his  sceptre. 
Bruce  paused,  and  sat  down  in  generous  confusion. 

"  Hesitate  not,"  said  Baliol,  "  to  say  where  you  will  take  your 
revenge.  I  know  that  the  brave  Wallace  has  laid  open  the  way. 
Had  I  possessed  such  a  leader  of  my  troops,  I  should  not  now 
be  a  mendicant  in  this  hovel ;  I  should  not  be  a  creature  to  be 
pitied  and  despised.  Wear  him,  Bruce,  wear  him  in  your 
heart's  core.  He  gives  the  throne  he  might  have  filled."  — 
"  Make  not  that  a  subject  of  praise,"  cried  Wallace,  "  which 


NORMANDY.  159 

if  I  had  left  undone  would  have  stamped  me  a  traitor.  I 
have  only  performed  my  duty,  and  may  the  Holy  Anointer  of 
the  hearts  of  kings  guide  Bruce  to  his  kingdom,  and  keep  him 
there  in  peace  and  honor  ! " 

Baliol  rose  in  his  bed  at  these  words.  "Bruce,"  said  he, 
"approach  me  near."  He  obeyed.  The  feeble  monarch 
turned  to  Wallace.  "  You  have  supported  what  was  my  king- 
dom through  its  last  struggles  for  liberty.  Put  forth  your 
hand  and  support  its  exiled  sovereign  in  his  last  regal  act." 
Wallace  raised  the  king  so  as  to  enable  him  to  assume  a 
kneeling  posture.  Dizzy  with  the  exertion,  for  a  moment  he 
rested  on  the  shoulder  of  the  chief,  and  then,  looking  up,  he 
met  the  eye  of  Bruce  gazing  on  him  with  compassionate 
interest.  The  unhappy  monarch  stretched  out  his  arms  to 
heaven.  "May  God  pardon  the  injuries  which  my  fatal  ambi- 
tion did  to  you  and  yours,  the  miseries  I  brought  upon  my 
country,  and  let  your  reign  redeem  my  errors.  May  the 
spirit  of  wisdom  bless  you,  my  son  ! "  His  hands  were  now 
laid  with  pious  fervor  on  the  head  of  Bruce,  who  sunk  on 
his  knees  before  him.  "Whatever  rights  I  had  to  the  crown 
of  Scotland,  by  the  worthlessness  of  my  reign  they  are  for- 
feited, and  I  resign  all  unto  you,  even  to  the  participation  of 
the  mere  title  of  king.  It  has  been  as  the  ghost  of  my  former 
self,  as  an  accusing  spirit  to  me,  but,  I  trust,  an  angel  of  light 
to  you,  it  will  conduct  your  people  into  all  happiness."  Ex- 
hausted by  his  feelings,  he  sunk  back  into  the  arms  of  Wallace. 
Bruce,  rising  from  his  knees,  poured  a  little  of  the  herb-balsam 
into  the  king's  mouth,  and  he  revived.  As  Wallace  laid  him 
back  on  his  pillow  he  gazed  wistfully  at  him,  and  grasping  his 
hand  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  How  did  I  throw  a  blessing  from  me  ! 
But  in  those  days,  when  I  rejected  your  services  at  Dunbar,  I 
knew  not  the  Almighty  arm  which  brought  the  boy  of  Ellerslie 
to  save  his  country.  I  scorned  the  patriot  flame  that  spoke 
your  mission,  and  the  mercy  of  Heaven  departed  from  me."  ' 

Memory  was  now  busy  with  the  thoughts  of  Bruce.  He 
remembered  his  father's  weak,  if  not  criminal,  devotion  at  that 
time  to  the  interests  of  Edward.  He  remembered  his  heart- 
wrung  death,  and  looking  at  the  desolate  old  age  of  another 
of  Edward's  victims,  his  brave  soul  melted  to  pity  and  regret, 

*  This  renunciation  of  Baliol's  in  favor  of  Bruce  is  an  historical  fact,  and  it  was  made 
in  France.  Buchanan  relates  it  in  those  words  : 

"  Baliol,  being  surrounded  with  the  miseries  of  old  age,  ingenuously  confessed  that 
his  peccant  exorbitance  was  justly  restrained,  and  that  he  was  deservedly  driven  out  of 
the  kingdom  as  unworthy  to  reign.  And  therefore  he  was  very  willing  that  his  kinsman 
Robert  should  enjoy  the  crown,  by  whose  high  valor,  singular  felicity,  and  great  pains- 
taking, 't  was  vindicated  into  its  ancient  splendor.  In  one  thing  he  rejoiced,  that  they 
by  whom  he  was  deceived  did  not  enjoy  the  reward  of  their  pertidiousuess."  —  (1809.) 


160  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

and  he  retired  into  a  distant  part  of  the  room  to  shed,  unob- 
served, the  tears  he  could  not  restrain.  Wallace  soon  after 
saw  the  eyes  of  the  exhausted  king  close  in  sleep,  and  cautious 
of  awakening  him  he  did  not  stir,  but  leaning  against  the  thick 
oaken  frame  of  the  bed,  was  soon  lost  in  as  deep  a  repose. 

After  some  time  of  complete  stillness,  —  for  the  old  dame 
and  the  attendants  were  at  rest  in  the  outward  chamber, — 
Bruce,  whose  low  sighs  were  echoed  by  the  wind  alone  which 
swept  in  gusts  by  the  little  casement,  looked  towards  the  abdi- 
cated monarch's  couch.  He  slept  profoundly,  yet  frequently 
started  as  if  disturbed  by  troubled  dreams.  Wallace  moved 
not  on  his  hard  pillow,  and  the  serenity  of  perfect  peace  rested 
upon  all  his  features.  "  How  tranquil  is  the  sleep  of  the  virt- 
uous!" thought  Bruce,  as  he  contemplated  the  difference 
between  his  state  and  that  of  Baliol ;  "  there  lies  an  accusing 
conscience,  here  rests  one  of  the  most  faultless  of  created 
beings.  It  is,  it  is,  the  sleep  of  innocence  !  Come,  ye  slan- 
derers," continued  he,  mentally  calling  on  those  he  had  left  at 
Edward's  court,  "and  tell  me  if  an  adulterer  could  look  thus 
when  he  sleeps  !  Is  there  one  trace  of  irregular  passion  about 
that  placid  mouth  ?  Does  one  of  those  heavenly  composed 
features  bear  testimony  to  emotions  which  leave  marks  even 
when  subdued  ?  No  ;  virtue  has  set  up  her  throne  in  that 
breast,  and  well  may  kings  come  to  bow  to  it." 


CHAPTER   LXII. 

THE    WIDOW'S    CELL. 

THE  entrance  of  the  old  woman  about  an  hour  after  sunrise 
awakened  Wallace,  but  Baliol  continued  to  sleep.  On  the 
chiefs  opening  his  eyes,  Bruce,  with  a  smile,  stretched  out  his 
hand  to  him.  Wallace  rose,  and,  whispering  the  widow  to 
abide  by  her  guest  till  they  should  return,  the  twain  went 
forth  to  enjoy  the  mutual  confidence  of  friendship.  A  wood 
opened  its  umbrageous  arms  at  a  little  distance,  and  thither, 
over  the  dew-bespangled  grass,  they  bent  their  way.  The  birds 
sang  from  tree  to  tree,  and  Wallace,  seating  himself  under  an 
overhanging  beech  which  canopied  a  narrow  winding  of  the 
river  Seine,  listened  with  mingled  pain  and  satisfaction  to  the 
communications  which  Bruce  had  to  impart  relative  to  the 
recent  scenes  at  Durham. 


THE    WIDOW'S    CELL.  161 

"  So  rapid  had  been  the  events,"  observed  the  Scottish  prince 
when  he  concluded  his  narrative,  "that  all  appears  to  me  a 
troubled  vision;  and  blest  indeed  was  the  awaking  of  last 
night  when  your  voice,  sounding  from  the  room  below  that  in 
which  I  slept,  called  me  to  embrace  my  best  friend,  as  became 
the  son  of  my  ancestors,  free,  and  ready  to  renew  the  bright- 
ness of  their  name." 

The  discourse  next  turned  on  their  future  plans.  Wallace, 
narrating  his  adventure  with  the  Red  Reaver  and  the  acknowl- 
edgments of  Philip  for  the  rescue  of  his  son,  proposed  that 
the  favor  he  should  ask  in  return  (the  King  of  France  being 
earnest  to  bestow  on  him  some  especial  mark  of  gratitude) 
should  be  his  interference  with  Edward  to  grant  the  Scots  a 
peaceable  retention  of  their  rights.  "  In  that  case,  my 
prince,"  said  he,  "  you  will  take  possession  of  your  kingdom 
with  the  olive-branch  in  your  hand."  Bruce  smiled,  but  shook 
his  head.  "  And  what,  then,  will  Robert  Bruce  be  ?  A  king,  to 
be  sure,  but  a  king  without  a  name.  Who  won  me  my  king- 
dom ?  Who  accomplished  this  peace  ?  Was  it  not  William 
Wallace  ?  Can  I  then  consent  to  mount  the  throne  of  my 
ancestors,  so  poor,  so  inconsiderable,  a  creature  ?  I  am  not 
jealous  of  your  fame,  Wallace ;  I  glory  in  it,  for  you  are  more 
to  me  than  the  light  to  my  eyes  ;  but  I  would  prove  my  right 
to  the  crown  by  deeds  worthy  of  a  sovereign.  Till  I  have 
shown  myself  in  the  field  against  Scotland's  enemies,  I  cannot 
consent  to  be  restored  to  my  inheritance,  even  by  you." 

"  And  is  it  in  war  alone,"  returned  Wallace,  "  that  you  can 
show  deeds  worthy  of  a  sovereign  ?  Think  a  moment,  my 
honored  prince,  and  then  scorn  your  objection.  Look  on  the 
annals  of  history,  nay,  on  the  daily  occurrences  of  the  world, 
and  see  how  many  are  brave  and  complete  generals,  how  few 
wise  legislators,  how  few  such  efficient  rulers  as  to  procure 
obedience  to  the  laws,  and  so  give  happiness  to  their  people. 
This  is  the  commission  of  a  king :  to  be  the  representative  on 
earth  of  the  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  Here  is  exercise  for 
courage,  for  enterprise,  for  fortitude,  for  every  virtue  which 
elevates  the  character  of  man  ;  this  is  the  godlike  jurisdiction 
of  a  sovereign.  To  go  to  the  field,  to  lead  his  people  to  scenes 
of  carnage,  is  often  a  duty  in  kings,  but  it  is  one  of  those 
necessities  which,  more  than  the  trifling  circumstances  of  sus- 
taining nature  by  sleep  and  food,  reminds  the  conqueror  of  the 
degraded  state  of  mortality.1  The  one  shows  the  weakness  of 

1  Alexander  the  Great  one  day  said  to  his  friend  Hephaestion  that  "  the  business  of 
eating  and  drinking  compelled  him  to  remember,  and  with  a  sense  of  abaajmeut,  hid 
mortal  nature,  although  he  was  the  sou  of  Arnmon." 

Vol.  II.—  11 


162  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  body,  the  other  the  corruption  of  the  soul.  For  how  fai 
must  man  have  fallen  beneath  his  former  heavenly  nature 
before  he  can  delight  in  the  destruction  of  his  fellow-men ! 
Lament  not,  then,  brave  and  virtuous  prince,  that  I  have  kept 
your  hands  from  the  stains  of  blood.  Show  yourself  beyond 
the  vulgar  apprehension  of  what  is  fame,  and,  conscious  of  the 
powers  with  which  the  Creator  has  endowed  you,  assume  your 
throne  with  the  dignity  that  is  their  due.  Whether  it  be  to 
the  cabinet  or  to  the  field  that  He  calls  you  to  act,  obey  ;  and 
rely  on  it,  a  name  greater  than  that  of  the  hero  of  Macedon 
will  await  Robert,  King  of  Scots."  —  "  You  almost  persuade 
me,"  returned  Bruce  ;  "  but  let  us  see  Philip,  and  then  I  will 
decide." 

As  morning  was  now  advanced,  the  friends  turned  towards 
the  cottage,  intending  to  see  Baliol  safe,  and  then  proceed 
together  to  Guienne  to  the  rescue  of  Lady  Helen.  That 
accomplished,  they  would  visit  Paris  and  hear  its  monarch's 
determination. 

On  entering  the  humble  mansion,  they  found  Baliol  awake 
and  anxiously  inquiring  of  the  widow  what  was  become  of  the 
two  knights.  At  sight  of  them  he  stretched  out  his  hands  to 
both,  and  said  he  should  be  able  to  travel  in  a  few  hours. 
Wallace  proposed  sending  to  Rouen  for  a  litter  to  carry  him 
the  more  easily  thither.  "No,"  cried  Baliol  with  a  frown, 
"Rouen  shall  never  see  me  again  within  its  walls.  It  was 
coining  from  thence  that  I  lost  my  way  last  night,  and  though 
my  poor  servants  would  gladly  have  returned  with  me  sooner 
than  see  me  perish  in  the  storm,  yet  rather  would  I  have  been 
found  dead  on  the  road,  a  reproach  to  the  kings  who  have 
betrayed  me,  than  have  taken  an  'hour's  shelter  in  that  inhos- 
pitable city." 

While  the  friends  took  the  simple  breakfast  prepared  for 
them  by  the  widow,  Baliol  related  that  in  consequence  of  the 
interference  of  Philip  le  Bel  with  Edward  he  had  been  released 
from  the  Tower  of  London  and  sent  to  France,  but  under  an 
oath  never  to  leave  that  country.  Philip  gave  the  exiled  king 
the  castle  of  Galliard  for  a  residence,  where  for  some  time  he 
enjoyed  the  shadow  of  royalty,  having  still  a  sort  of  court  com- 
posed of  his  own  noble  followers,  some  of  whom  were  now  with 
him,  and  the  barons  of  the  neighborhood.  Philip  allowed  him 
guards  and  a  splendid  table.  But  on  the  peace  being  signed 
between  France  and  England,  in  order  that  Edward  might  give 
up  his  ally,  the  Earl  of  Flanders,  to  his  offended  liege  lord,  the 
French  monarch  consented  to  relinquish  the  cause  of  Baliol, 


THE    WIDOW'S    CELL  163 

and  though  he  should  continue  to  grant  him  a  shelter  in  his 
dominions,  he  removed  from  him  all  the  appendages  of  a  king. 

"  Accordingly,"  continued  Baliol,  "the  guard  was  taken  from 
my  gates,  my  establishment  reduced  to  that  of  a  private  noble- 
man, and  no  longer  having  it  in  my  power  to  gratify  the  avidity, 
or  to  flatter  the  ambition,  of  those  who  came  about  me,  I  was 
soon  left  nearly  alone.  All  but  the  poor  old  lieges  whom  you 
see,  and  who  had  been  faithful  to  me  through  every  change 
of  my  life,  instantly  deserted  the  forlorn  Baliol.  In  vain  I 
remonstrated  with  Philip;  either  my  letters  never  reached  him 
or  he  disdained  to  answer  the  man  whose  claims  he  had  aban- 
doned. Things  were  in  this  state  when  the  other  day  an  Eng- 
lish lord  found  it  convenient  to  bring  his  suite  to  my  castle. 
I  received  him  with  hospitality,  but  soon  found  that  what  I 
gave  in  courtesy  he  seized  as  a  right.  In  the  true  spirit  of  his 
master  Edward,  he  treated  me  more  like  the  keeper  of  an  hostel 
than  a  generous  host.  And  on  my  attempting  to  plead  with 
him  for  a  Scottish  lady,  whom  his  turbulent  passions  have 
forced  from  her  country  and  reduced  to  a  pitiable  state  of  ill- 
ness, he  derided  my  arguments,  sarcastically  telling  me  that 
had  1  taken  care  of  my  kingdom,  the  door  would  not  have 
been  left  open  for  him  to  steal  its  fairest  prize"  — 

Wallace  interrupted  him  — "  Heaven  grant  you  may  be 
speaking  of  Lord  de  Valence  and  Lady  Helen  Mar!" — '"I 
am,"  replied  Baliol;  "they  are  now  at  Galliard,  and  as  her  ill- 
ness 'seems  a  lingering  one,  De  Valence  declared  to  me  his 
intentions  of  continuing  there.  He  seized  upon  the  best  apart- 
ments and  carried  himself  with  so  much  haughtiness  that,  pro- 
voked beyond  endurance,  I  ordered  my  horse,  and  accompanied 
by  my  honest  courtiers  rode  to  Rouen  to  obtain  redress  from 
the  governor.  But  the  unworthy  Frenchman  advised  me  to  go 
back,  and  by  flattering  De  Valence,  try  to  regain  the  favor  of 
Edward.  I  retired  in  indignation,  determining  to  assert  my 
own  rights  in  my  own  castle ;  but  the  storm  overtook  me,  and 
being  forsaken  by  false  friends,  I  am  saved  by  generous  ene- 
mies." 

Wallace  explained  his  errand  respecting  Lady  Helen,  and 
anxiously  inquired  of  Baliol  whether  he  meant  to  return  to 
Galliard.  "Immediately,"  replied  he;  "go  with  me,  and  if 
the  lady  consent  (which  I  do  not  doubt,  for  she  scorns  his 
prayers  for  her  hand  and  passes  night  and  day  in  tears),  I 
engage  to  assist  in  her  escape." 

Baliol  then  advised  they  should  not  all  return  to  the  castle 
together.  The  sight  of  two  knights  of  their  appearance  accom- 


164  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

panying  his  host  being  likely  to  alarm  De  Valence.  "The 
quietest  way,"  continued  the  deposed  king,  "is  the  surest. 
Follow  me  at  a  short  distance,  and  towards  the  shadows  of 
evening  knock  at  the  gates  and  request  a  night's  entertain- 
ment. I  will  grant  it,  and  then  your  happy  destiny,  ever  fort- 
unate Wallace,  must  do  the  rest." 

This  scheme  being  approved  a  litter  of  hurdles  was  formed 
for  the  invalid  monarch,  and  the  old  woman's  pallet  spread 
upon  it.  "  I  will  return  it  to  you,  my  good  widow,"  said 
Baliol,  "and  with  proofs  of  my  gratitude."  The  two  friends 
assisted  the  king  to  rise.  When  he  set  his  foot  to  the  floor  he 
felt  so  surprisingly  better  that  he  thought  he  could  ride  the 
journey.  Wallace  overruled  this  wish,  and,  with  Bruce,  sup- 
ported his  emaciated  figure  towards  the  door.  The  widow 
stood  to  see  her  guests  depart.  As  Baliol  mounted  he  slid  a 
piece  of  gold  into  her  hand.  Wallace  saw  not  what  the  king 
had  given  and  gave  a  purse  as  his  reward.  Bruce  had  naught 
to  bestow.  He  had  left  Durham  with  little,  and  that  little  was 
expended.  "  My  good  widow,"  said  he,  "  I  am  poor  in  every- 
thing but  gratitude.  In  lieu  of  gold,  you  must  accept  my 
prayers."  —  "  May  they,  sweet  youth,"  replied  she,  "  return  on 
your  own  head,  giving  you  bread  from  the  barren  land  and 
water  out  of  the  sterile  rock  ! "  —  "  And  have  you  no  blessing  for 
me,  mother  ?  "  asked  Wallace,  turning  round  and  regarding  her 
with  an  impressive  look ;  "  some  spirit  you  wist  not  of  speaks 
in  your  words."  —  "  Then  it  must  be  a  good  spirit,"  answered 
she,  "  for  all  around  me  betokens  gladness.  The  Scripture 
saith,  'Be  kind  to  the  wayfaring  man,  for  many  have  so  enter- 
tained angels  unawares.'  Yesterday  at  this  time  I  was  the 
poorest  of  all  the  daughters  of  charity.  Last  night  I  opened 
my  doors  in  the  storm;  you  enter  and  give  me  riches,  he  fol- 
lows and  endows  me  with  his  prayers.  Am  I  not  then  greatly 
favored  by  Him  who  dispenseth  to  all  who  trust  in  Him?  His 
mercy  and  your  goodness  shall  not  be  hidden,  for  from  this 
day  forth  I  will  light  a  fire  each  night  in  a  part  of  my  house 
whence  it  may  be  seen  on  every  side  from  a  great  distance. 
Like  you,  princely  knight,  whose  gold  will  make  it  burn,  it  shall 
shine  afar  and  give  light  and  comfort  to  all  who  approach 
it."  • —  "  And  when  you  look  on  it,"  said  Wallace,  "  tell  your 
beads  for  me.  I  am  a  son  of  war,  and  it  may  blaze  when 
my  vital  spark  is  expiring."  The  widow  paused,  gazed  on 
him  steadily,  and  then  burst  into  tears.  "Is it  possible," cried 
she,  "  that  beautiful  face  may  be  laid  in  dust,  that  youthful 
form  lie  cold  in  clay,  and  these  aged  limbs  survive  to  light 


CHATEAU    GALLIARD.  165 

a  beacon  to  your  memory  !  —  and  it  shall  arise  !  it  shall  burn 
like  a  holy  flame,  an  incense  to  heaven,  for  the  soul  of  him 
who  has  succored  the  feeble  and  made  the  widow's  heart  to 
sing  for  joy  ! "  Wallace  pressed  the  old  woman's  withered 
hand,  Bruce  did  the  same.  She  saw  them  mount  their  horses, 
and  when  they  disappeared  from  her  eyes  she  returned  into 
her  cottage  and  wept. 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 

CHlTEAU    GALLIARD. 

WHEN  Baliol  arrived  within  a  few  miles  of  Chateau  Gal- 
liard  he  pointed  to  a  wooded  part  of  the  forest,  and  told  the 
friends  that  under  its  groves  they  had  best  shelter  themselves 
till  the  sun  set,  soon  after  which  he  should  expect  them  at  the 
castle. 

Long  indeed  seemed  the  interval.  It  usually  happens  that 
in  contemplating  a  project  while  the  period  of  its  execution 
appears  distant, we  think  on  it  with  composure;  but  when  the 
time  of  action  is  near,  when  we  only  wait  the  approach  of  an 
auxiliary  or  the  lapse  of  an  hour,  every  passing  moment  seems 
an  age,  and  the  impatient  soul  is  ready  to  break  every  bound 
to  grasp  the  completion  of  its  enterprise.  So  Wallace  now 
felt  —  felt  as  he  had  never  done  before,  for  in  all  his  warlike  ex- 
ploits each  achievement  had  immediately  followed  the  moment 
of  resolve ;  but  here  he  was  delayed,  to  grow  in  ardor  as  he 
contemplated  an  essay  in  which  every  generous  principle  of 
man  was  summoned  into  action.  He  was  going  to  rescue  a 
helpless  woman  from  the  hands  of  a  man  of  violence ;  she 
was  also  the  daughter  of  his  first  ally  in  the  great  struggle  for 
Scotland,  and  who  had  fallen  in  the  cause.  Glad  was  he  then 
to  see  the  sun  sink  behind  the  distant  hills.  At  that  moment 
he  and  his  friend  closed  their  visors,  mounted  their  horses,  and 
set  off  on  full  speed  towards  the  chateau. 

When  they  came  in  view  of  the  antique  towers  of  Galliard 
they  slackened  their  pace  and  leisurely  advanced  to  the  gates. 
The  bugle  of  Wallace  demanded  admittance;  a  courteous 
assent  was  brought  by  the  warder,  the  gates  unfolded,  the 
friends  entered,  and  in  the  next  instant  they  were  conducted 
into  a  room  where  Baliol  sat.  De  Valence  was  walking  to  and 
fro  in  a  great  chafe.  He  started  at  sight  of  the  princely 
armor  of  Wallace,  for  he,  as  Baliol  had  done,  now  conceived 


166  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

from  the  lilied  diadem  that  the  stranger  must  be  of  the  royal 
house  of  France ;  and  composing  his  turbulent  spirit,  he  bowed 
respectfully  to  the  supposed  prince.  Wallace  returned  the 
salutation,  and  Baliol,  rising,  accosted  him  with  a  dignified 
welcome.  He  saw  the  mistake  of  De  Valence,  and  perceived 
how  greatly  it  might  facilitate  the  execution  of  their  project. 

On  his  host's  return  to  the  chateau  De  Valence  had  received 
him  with  more  than  his  former  insolence,  for  the  governor  of 
Rouen  had  sent  him  information  of  the  despised  monarch's 
discontent,  and  when  the  despotic  lord  heard  a  bugle  at  the 
gate,  and  learned  that  it  was  answered  by  the  admission  of  two 
travelling  knights,  he  flew  to  Baliol  in  displeasure,  commanding 
him  to  recall  his  granted  leave.  At  the  moment  of  his  wrath 
Wallace  entered  and  covered  him  with  confusion.  Struck  at 
seeing  a  French  prince  in  one  of  the  persons  he  was  going  to 
treat  with  such  indignity,  he  shrunk  into  himself,  and  bowed  be- 
fore him  with  all  the  cowering  meanness  of  abase  and  haughty 
soul.  Wallace,  feeling  his  real  preeminence,  bent  his  head  in 
acknowledgment,  with  a  majesty  which  convinced  the  earl 
that  he  was  not  mistaken.  Baliol  welcomed  his  guest  in  a 
manner  not  to  dispel  the  illusion. 

" Happy  am  I,"  cried  he,  "that  the  hospitality  which  John 
Baliol  intended  to  show  to  a  mere  traveller  confers  on  him 
the  distinction  of  serving  one  of  a  race  whose  favor  confers 
protection,  and  its  friendship,  honor."  Wallace  returned  a 
gracious  reply  to  this  speech,  and  turning  to  Bruce,  said, 
"  This  knight  is  my  friend,  and  though,  from  peculiar  circum- 
stances, neither  of  us  chooses  to  disclose  our  names  during  our 
journey,  yet,  whatever  they  may  be,  I  trust  you  will  confide 
in  the  word  of  one  whom  you  have  honored  by  the  address  you 
have  now  made,  and  believe  that  his  friend  is  not  unworthy 
the  hospitalities  of  him  who  was  once  King  of  Scots." 

De  Valence  now  approached,  and  announcing  who  he  was, 
assured  the  knights  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  England, 
whom  he  was  going  to  represent  in  Guienne,  of  every  respect 
from  himself  and  assistance  from  his  retinue  to  bring  them 
properly  on  their  way.  "  I  return  you  the  thanks  due  to 
your  courtesy,"  replied  Wallace,  "  and  shall  certainly  remain 
to-night  a  burden  on  King  Baliol ;  but  in  the  morning  we  must 
depart  as  we  came,  having  a  vow  to  perform  which  excludes 
the  service  of  attendants. " 

A  splendid  supper  was  served,  at  the  board  of  which  De 
Valence  sat  as  well  as  Baliol.  From  the  moment  that  the 
strangers  entered  the  English  earl  never  withdrew,  so  cautioug 


CHATEAU    GALLIARD.  167 

was  he  to  prevent  Baliol  informing  his  illustrious  guests  of 
the  captivity  of  Lady  Helen  Mar.  Wallace  ate  nothing ;  he 
sat  with  his  visor  still  closed,  and  almost  in  profound  silence, 
never  speaking  but  when  spoken  to,  and  then  only  answering 
in  as  few  words  as  possible.  De  Valence  supposed  that  this  taci- 
turnity was  connected  with  his  vow,  and  did  not  further  remark 
it ;  but  Bruce  (who  at  Caen  had  furnished  himself  with  a 
complete  suit  of  black  armor)  appeared,  though  equally  invis- 
ible under  his  visor,  infinitely  more  accessible.  The  humbler 
fashion  of  his  martial  accoutrement  did  not  announce  the  prince, 
but  his  carriage  was  so  noble,  his  conversation  bespoke  so 
accomplished  a  mind  and  brave  a  spirit,  that  De  Valence  did 
not  doubt  that  both  the  men  before  him  were  of  the  royal 
family.  He  had  never  seen  Charles  de  Valois,  and  believing 
that  he  now  saw  him  in  Wallace,  he  directed  all  that  discourse 
to  Bruce  which  he  meant  should  reach  the  ear  of  De  Valois,  and 
from  him  pass  to  that  of  the  King  of  France.  Bruce  guessed 
what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  with  as  much  amusement 
as  design,  led  forward  the  earl's  mistake,  but  rather  by  allow- 
ing him  to  deceive  himself  than  by  any  actual  means  on  his 
side  to  increase  the  deception.  De  Valence  threw  out  hints 
respecting  a  frontier  town  in  Guienne,  which  he  said  he 
thought  his  royal  master  could  be  persuaded  to  yield  to  the 
French  monarch,  as  naturally  belonging  to  Gascony.  But 
then  the  affair  must  be  properly  represented,  he  added,  and 
had  he  motive  enough  to  investigate  some  parchments  in  his 
possession,  he  believed  he  could  place  the  affair  in  a  true  light, 
and  convince  Edward  of  the  superior  claims  of  the  French 
king.  Then  casting  out  hints  of  the  claim  he  had,  by  right  of 
his  ancestors,  to  the  seigniory  of  Valence,  in  Dauphiny,  he 
gave  them  to  understand  that  if  Philip  would  invest  him  with 
the  revenues  of  Valence,  on  the  Rhone,  he  would  engage  that 
the  other  town  in  question  should  be  delivered  to  France. 

Notwithstanding  BalioPs  resolution  to  keep  awake  and 
assist  his  friends  in  their  enterprise,  he  was  so  overcome  by 
fatigue  that  he  fell  asleep  soon  after  supper,  and  so  gave  De 
Valence  full  opportunity  to  unveil  his  widely  grasping  mind  to 
the  Scottish  chiefs.  Wallace  now  saw  that  the  execution  of 
his  project  must  depend  wholly  upon  himself,  and  how  to 
inform  Helen  that  he  was  in  the  castle,  and  of  his  plan  to  get 
her  out  of  it,  hardly  occupied  him  more  than  what  to  devise 
to  detain  De  Valence  in  the  banqueting-room  while  he  went 
forth  to  prosecute  his  design.  As  these  thoughts  absorbed 
him,  by  an  unconscious  movement  he  turned  towards  the  Eng- 


168  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

lish  earl.  De  Valence  paused  and  looked  at  him,  supposing 
he  was  going  to  speak,  but  finding  him  still  silent  the  earl 
addressed  him,  though  with  some  hesitation,  feeling  an  inexpli- 
cable awe  of  directly  saying  to  him  what  he  had  so  easily 
uttered  to  his  more  approachable  companion.  "I  seek  not, 
illustrious  stranger,"  said  he,  "  to  inquire  the  name  you  have 
already  intimated  must  be  concealed,  but  I  have  sufficient  faith 
in  that  brilliant  circlet  around  your  brows  to  be  convinced 
(as  none  other  than  the  royal  hand  of  Philip  could  bestow  it) 
that  it  distinguishes  a  man  of  the  first  honor.  You  now  khow 
my  sentiments,  prince,  and  for  the  advantage  of  both  kings  I 
confide  them  to  your  services.'7  Wallace  rose.  "  Whether  I 
am  prince  or  vassal,"  replied  he,  "  my  services  shall  ever  be 
given  in  the  cause  of  justice,  and  of  that,  Earl  de  Valence,  you 
will  be  convinced  whei^  next  you  hear  of  me.  My  friend," 
cried  he,  turning  to  Bruce,  "you  will  remain  with  our  host ;  I 
go  to  perform  the  vigils  of  my  vow." 

Bruce  understood  him.  It  was  not  merely  with  their  host 
he  was  to  remain,  but  to  detain  De  Valence,  and  opening  at 
once  the  versatile  powers  of  his  abundant  mind,  his  vivacity 
charmed  the  earl,  while  the  magnificence  of  his  views  in 
policy  corroborated  to  De  Valence  the  idea  that  he  was  con- 
versing with  one  whose  birth  had  placed  him  beyond  even  the 
temptations  of  those  ambitions  which  were  at  that  moment 
subjecting  his  auditors  soul  to  every  species  of  flattery,  mean- 
ness, and,  in  fact,  disloyalty.  Bruce,  in  his  turn,  listened  with 
much  apparent  interest  to  all  De  Valence's  dreams  of  aggran- 
dizement, and  recollecting  his  reputation  for  a  love  of  wine, 
he  replenished  the  earl's  goblet  so  often  that  the  fumes  made 
him  forget  all  reserves  ;  and  after  pouring  forth  the  whole 
history  of  his  attachment  to  Helen,  and  his  resolution  to  sub- 
due her  abhorrence  by  love  and  grandeur,  he  gradually  lowered 
his  key,  and  at  last  fell  fast  asleep. 

Meanwhile,  Wallace  wrapped  himself  in  Baliol's  blue  cloak 
which  lay  in  the  ante-room,  and  enveloping  even  his  helmet  in 
the  friendly  mantle,  he  moved  swiftly  along  the  gallery  tow- 
ards the  chamber  of  Helen.  To  be  prepared  for  obstacles,  he 
had  obtained  from  Baliol  a  particular  description  of  the  situa- 
tion of  every  apartment  leading  to  it.  It  was  now  within  an 
hour  of  midnight.  He  passed  through  several  large  vacant 
rooms,  and  at  last  arrived  at  the  important  door.  'It  opened 
into  a  small  chamber,  in  which  two  female  attendants  lay 
asleep.  He  gently  raised  the  latch,  and,  with  caution,  taking 
the  lamp  which  burnt  on  the  table,  glided  softly  through  the 


CHATEAU    GALLIARD.  169 

curtains  which  filled  the  cedar  arch  that  led  into  the  apartment 
of  Helen.  He  approached  the  bed,  covering  the  light  with  his 
hand  while  he  observed  her.  She  was  in  a  profound  sleep, 
but  pale  as  the  sheet  which  enveloped  her ;  her  countenance 
seemed  troubled,  her  brows  frequently  knit  themselves,  and 
she  started  as  she  dreamt,  as  if  in  apprehension.  Once  he 
heard  her  lips  faintly  murmur,  "  Save  me,  my  father  !  on  you 
alone  —  "  there  she  stopped.  His  heart  bled  at  this  appeal. 
"  Thy  father's  friend  comes  to  save  thee,"  he  would  have  cried, 
but  he  checked  the  exclamation  ;  his  hand  dropped  at  the  same 
instant  from  before  the  lamp,  and  the  blaze,  striking  full  on 
her  eyes,  waked  her.  She  looked  up  ;  she  believed  her  dream 
realized  :  De  Valence  leaning  over  her  bed,  and  herself  wholly  in 
his  power  !  A  shriek  of  horror  was  bursting  from  her  lips  when 
Wallace  hastily  raised  his  visor.  At  the  moment  when  despair 
was  in  her  orphan  heart,  and  her  whole  soul  turned  with 
abhorence  from  the  supposed  De  Valence,  she  met  the  eyes 
dearest  to  her  on  earth  —  those  of  indeed  her  father's  friend. 
Stretching  forth  her  arms,  for  an  instant  she  seemed 
flying  to  the  protection  of  him  to  whose  honor  she  had  been 
bequeathed ;  but  falling  back  again  on  her  bed,  the  glad  sur- 
prise of  seeing  him  who,  in  her  estimation,  was  her  only  earthly 
security,  now  that  her  father  was  no  more,  shook  her  with  such 
emotion  that  Wallace  feared  to  see  her  delicate  frame  sink  into 
some  deadly  swoon.  Alarmed  for  her  life,  or  the  accomplish- 
ment of  her  deliverance,  he  threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside 
her  and  softly  whispered,  "  Be  composed,  for  the  love  of  Heaven 
and  your  own  safety.  Be  collected  and  firm,  and  you  shall  fly 
this  place  with  me  to-night."  Hardly  conscious  of  the  action 
Helen  grasped  the  hand  that  held  hers,  and  would  have  replied, 
but  her  voice  failing,  she  fainted  on  his  arm.  Wallace  now  saw 
no  alternative  but  to  remove  her  hence,  even  in  this  insensible 
state,  and  raising  her  gently  in  his  arms,  enveloped  in  the  silk 
coverlid,  with  cautious  steps  he  bore  her  through  the  curtained 
entrance,  and  past  the  sleeping  damsels,  into  the  ante-rooms. 
To  meet  any  of  De  Valence's  men,  while  in  this  situation, 
would  betray  all.  To  avoid  this  he  hastened  through  the  illu- 
minated passages,  and  turning  into  the  apartment  appointed  for 
himself,  laid  the  now  reviving  Helen  upon  a  couch.  "  Water," 
said  she,  "  and  I  shall  soon  be  myself  again."  He  gave  her 
some  ;  and  at  the  same  time  laying  a  page's  suit  of  clothes 
(which  Baliol  had  provided)  beside  her,  "Dress  yourself  in 
these,  Lady  Helen,"  said  he  ;  "  I  shall  withdraw,  meanwhile, 
into  the  passage  ;  but  your  safety  depends  on  expedition." 


170  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Before  she  could  answer  he  had  disappeared.  Helen  in- 
stantly threw  herself  upon  her  knees  to  thank  a  Higher  Power 
for  this  commencement  of  her  deliverance,  and  to  beseech  his 
blessing  on  its  consummation.  She  rose  strengthened,  and, 
obeying  Wallace,  the  moment  she  was  equipped  she  laid  her 
hand  upon  the  latch ;  but  the  watchful  ear  of  her  friend  heard 
her,  and  he  immediately  opened  the  door.  The  lamps  of  the 
gallery  shone  full  upon  the  light  grace  of  her  figure,  as  shrink- 
ing with  blushing  modesty,  and  yet  eager  to  be  with  her  pre- 
server, she  stood  hesitating  before  him.  He  threw  his  cloak 
over  her,  and  putting  her  arm  through  his,  in  the  unobscured 
blaze  of  his  princely  armor  he  descended  to  the  lower  hall  of 
the  castle.  One  man  only  was  there.  Wallace  ordered  him  to 
open  the  great  door.  "  It  is  a  fine  night,"  said  he,  "  and  I 
shall  ride  some  miles  before  I  sleep."  The  man  asked  if  he 
were  to  saddle  the  horses  ;  he  answered  in  the  affirmative ; 
and  the  gate  being  immediately  unbarred  Wallace  led  his 
precious  charge  into  the  freedom  of  the  open  air.  As  soon  as 
she  saw  the  outside  of  those  towers,  which  she  had  entered  as 
the  worst  of  all  prisoners,  her  heart  so  overflowed  with  grati- 
tude to  her  deliverer  that,  sinking  by  his  side  upon  her  knees, 
she  could  only  grasp  his  hand  and  bathe  it  with  the  pure  tears 
of  rescued  innocence.  Her  manner  penetrated  his  soul;  he 
raised  her  in  his  arms  ;  but  she,  dreading  that  she  had  perhaps 
done  too  much,  convulsively  articulated  — "  My  father  — 
his  blessing — " — "  Was  a  rich  endowment,  Lady  Helen," 
returned  Wallace,  "  and  you  shall  ever  find  me  deserving  it." 
Her  head  leaned  on  his  breast.  But  how  different  was  the 
lambent  flame  which  seemed  to  emanate  from  either  heart-  as 
they  now  beat  against  each  other,  from  the  destructive  fire 
which  shot  from  the  burning  veins  of  Lady  Mar,  when  she 
would  have  polluted  with  her  unchaste  lips  this  shrine  of  a 
beloved  wife,  this  bosom  consecrated  to  her  sacred  image  ! 
Wallace  had  shrunk  from  her  as  from  the  touch  of  some 
hideous  contagion ;  but  with  Lady  Helen  it  was  soul  meeting 
soul;  it  was  innocence  resting  on  the  bosom  of  virtue.  No 
thought  that  saints  would  not  have  approved  was  there,  no 
emotion  which  angels  might  not  have  shared  glowed  in  their 
grateful  bosoms  — she  grateful  to  him ;  both  grateful  to  God. 

The  man  brought  the  horses  from  the  stable.  He  knew  that 
two  strangers  had  arrived  at  the  castle,  and  not  noticing  Helen's 
stature,  supposed  they  were  both  before  him.  He  had  been 
informed  by  the  servants  that  the  taller  of  the  two  was  the 
Count  de  Valois,  and  he  now  held  the  stirrup  for  him  to  mount. 


CHATEAU    GALLIARD.  171 

But  Wallace  placed  Helen  on  Bruce's  horse,  and  then  vaulting 
on  his  own  put  a  piece  of  gold  into  the  attendant's  hand.  "  You 
will  return,  noble  prince  ?  "  inquired  the  man.  "  Why  should 
you  doubt  it  ?  "  answered  Wallace.  "  Because,"  replied  the 
servant,  "  I  wish  the  brother  of  the  King  of  France  to  know 
the  foul  deeds  which  are  doing  in  his  dominions.  "  —  "  By 
whom?"  asked  Wallace,  surprised  at  this  address.  "By  the 
Earl  de  Valence,  prince, "  answered  he ;  "  he  has  now  in  this 
castle  a  beautiful  lady  whom  he  brought  from  a  foreign  land 
and  treats  in  a  manner  unbecoming  a  knight  or  a  man. "  — 
"  And  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?  "  said  Wallace,  willing 
to  judge  whether  this  applicant  were  honest  in  his  appeal. 
"  Come  in  the  power  of  your  royal  brother,  "  answered  he, 
"  and  demand  the  Lady  Helen  Mar  of  Lord  de  Valence." 

Helen,  who  had  listened  with  trepidation  to  this  dialogue, 
drew  nearer  Wallace,  and  whispered,  in  an  agitated  voice, 
"  Ah,  let  us  hasten  away. "  The  man  was  close  enough  to 
hear  her.  "  Hah  ! "  cried  he,  in  a  burst  of  doubtful  joy,  "  is  it 
so  ?  Is  she  here  ?  Say  so,  noble  knight,  and  Joppa  Grimsby  will 
serve  ye  both  forever  ! "  —  "  Grimsby  ! "  cried  Helen,  recollect- 
ing his  voice  the  moment  he  had  declared  his  name.  "  What ! 
the  honest  English  soldier  ?  I  and  my  preserver  will  indeed 
value  so  trusty  a  follower.  " 

The  name  of  Grimsby  was  too  familiar  to  the  memory  of 
Wallace,  too  closely  associated  with  his  most  cherished  medi- 
tations, for  him  not  to  recognize  it  with  melancholy  pleasure. 
He  had  never  seen  Grimsby,  but  he  knew  him  well  worthy  of 
his  confidence,  and  ordered  him  (if  he  really  desired  to  follow 
Lady  Helen)  to  bring  two  more  horses  from  the  stables. 
When  they  were  brought  Wallace  made  the  joyful  signal  con- 
certed with  Bruce  and  Baliol  —  to  sound  the  Scottish  pryse  as 
soon  as  he  and  his  fair  charge  were  out  of  the  castle. 

The  happy  tidings  met  the  ear  of  the  prince  while  anxiously 
watching  the  sleep  of  De  Valence,  for  fear  he  should  awake 
and,  leaving  the  room,  interrupt  Wallace  in  his  enterprise. 
What  then  was  his  transport  when  the  first  note  of  the  horn 
burst  upon  the  silence  around  him  !  He  sprang  on  his  feet. 
The  impetuosity  of  the  action  roused  Baliol,  who  had  been 
lying  all  the  while  sound  asleep  in  his  chair.  Bruce  made  a 
sign  to  him  to  be  silent,  and,  pressing  his  hand  with  energy, 
forgot  the  former  Baliol  in  the  present,  and  for  a  moment 
bending  his  knee  kissed  the  hand  he  held,  then  rising,  dis- 
appeared in  an  instant. 

He  flew  through  the  open  gates.     Wallace  perceiving  him 


172  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

rode  out  from  under  the  shadow  of  the  trees.  The  bright  light 
of  the  moon  shone  on  his  sparkling  crest ;  that  was  sufficient 
for  Bruce,  and  Wallace,  falling  back  again  into  the  shade,  was 
joined  the  next  moment  by  his  friend.  Who  this  friend  was 
for  whom  her  deliverer  had  told  Helen  he  waited  she  did  not 
ask,  for  she  dreaded  while  so  near  danger  to  breathe  a  word,  but 
she  guessed  that  it  must  be  either  Murray  or  Edwin.  De  Val- 
ence had  barbarously  told  her  that  not  only  her  father  was  no 
more,  but  that  her  uncles  the  Lords  Bothwell  and  Ruthven  had 
both  been  killed  in  the  last  battle.  Hence,  with  a  saddened  joy 
one  of  her  two  bereaved  cousins  she  now  prepared  to  see,  and 
every  filial  recollection  pressing  on  her  heart,  her  tears  flowed 
silently  and  in  abundance.  As  Bruce  approached,  his  black 
mantle  so  wrapped  him  she  could  not  distinguish  his  figure. 
Wallace  stretched  forth  his  hand  to  him  in  silence,  he  grasped 
it  with  the  warm  but  mute  congratulation  of  friendship,  and 
throwing  himself  on  his  horse  triumphantly  exclaimed, "  Now  for 
Paris  !  "  Helen  recognized  none  she  knew  in  that  voice,  and 
drawing  close  to  the  white  courser  of  Wallace,  with  something 
like  disappointment  mingling  with  her  happier  thoughts,  she 
made  her  horse  keep  pace  with  the  fleetness  of  her  companions.1 


CHAPTER   LXIV. 

FOREST    OF    VINCENNES. 

AVOIDING  the  frequented  track  to  Paris,  Wallace  (to  whom 
Grimsby  was  now  a  valuable  auxiliary,  he  being  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  country)  took  a  sequestered  path  by  the 
banks  of  the  Marne,  and  entered  the  forest  of  Vincennes  just 
as  the  moon  set.  Having  ridden  far  and  without  cessation, 
the  old  soldier  proposed  their  alighting,  to  allow  the  lady  an 
opportunity  of  reposing  awhile  under  the  trees.  Helen  was 
indeed  nearly  exhausted ;  though  the  idea  of  her  happy  flight, 
by  inspiring  her  with  a  strength  which  surprised  even  herself, 
for  a  long  time  had  kept  her  insensible  to  fatigue.  While  her 
friends  pressed  on  with  a  speed  which  allowed  no  more  con- 
versation than  occasional  inquiries  of  how  she  bore  the  jour- 

1  The  ruins  of  Chateau  Galliard  yet  remain,  but  tradition  does  not  exist  in  modern 
France,  as  it  still  does  in  Scotland,  to  tell  the  tales  of  other  times.  The  besom  of  half  a 
century's  revolution  has  done  more  toward  obliterating  these  noble  memories  than  all 
the  gradually  wearing  footsteps  of  nearly  six  hundred  former  years.  Those  who  teaob 
me*  to  forget  the  past  teach  them  to  deserve  to  be  forgotten  themselves.  —  [1809.] 


FOREST    OF    VINCENNES.  173 

ney,  the  swiftness  of  the  motion,  and  the  rapidity  of  the  events 
which  had  brought  her  from  the  most  frightful  of  situations 
into  one  the  dearest  to  her  secret  and  hardly  breathed  wishes, 
so  bewildered  her  faculties  that  she  almost  feared  she  was 
only  enjoying  one  of  those  dreams  which,  since  her  captivity, 
had  often  mocked  her  with  the  image  of  Wallace  and  her 
release,  and  every  moment  she  dreaded  to  awake  and  find  her- 
self still  a  prisoner  to  De  Valence.  "  I  want  no  rest,"  replied 
she  to  the  observation  of  Grimsby.  "  I  could  feel  none  till 
we  are  beyond  the  possibility  of  being  overtaken  by  my  enemy." 
"  You  are  as  safe  in  this  wood,  lady,"  returned  the  soldier,  "  as 
you  can  be  in  any  place  betwixt  Galliard  and  Paris.  It  is 
many  miles  from  the  chateau,  and  lies  in  so  remote  a  direction 
that  were  the  earl  to  pursue  us,  I  am  sure  he  would  never 
choose  this  path."  —  "And  did  he  even  come  up  with  us,  dear 
Lady  Helen,"  said  Wallace,  "  could  you  fear  when  with  your 
father's  friend ? " —  "It  is  for  my  father's  friend  I  fear," 
gently  answered  she  ;  "I  can  have  no  dreads  for  myself  while 
under  such  protection." 

A  very  little  more  persuaded  Helen,  and  Grimsby  having 
spread  his  cloak  on  the  grass,  Wallace  lifted  her  from  the 
horse.  As  soon  as  she  put  her  foot  to  the  ground,  her  head 
grew  giddy,  and  she  must  have  fallen  but  for  the  supporting 
arm  of  her  watchful  friend.  He  carried  her  to  the  couch  pre- 
pared by  the  good  soldier,  and  laid  her  on  it.  Grimsby  had 
been  more  provident  than  they  could  have  expected ;  for  after 
saddling  the  second  pair  of  horses,  he  had  returned  into  the 
hall  for  his  cloak,  and  taking  an  undrawn  flask  of  wine  from 
the  seneschal's  supper-table,  put  it  into  his  vest.  This  he  now 
produced,  and  Wallace  made  Helen  drink  some  of  it.  The 
cordial  revived  her,  and  sinking  on  her  pillow  of  leaves,  she 
soon  found  the  repose  her  wearied  frame  demanded  and  in- 
duced. For  fear  of  disturbing  her,  not  a  word  was  spoken. 
Wallace  watched  at  her  head  and  Bruce  at  her  feet,  while 
Grimsby  remained  with  the  horse,  as  a  kind  of  outpost. 

Sweet  was  her  sleep,  for  the  thoughts  with  which  she  sunk 
into  slumber  occupied  her  dreams.  Still  she  was  riding  by  the 
side  of  Wallace  and  listening  to  his  voice  cheering  her  through 
the  lengthening  way.  But  some  wild  animal,  in  its  nightly 
prowl,  crossing  before  the  horses,  they  began  to  snort  and 
plunge,  and  though  the  no  less  terrified  alarmer  fled  far  away, 
it  was  with  difficulty  the  voice  and  management  of  Grimsby 
could  quiet  them.  The  noise  suddenly  awoke  Helen,  and  her 
scattered  faculties  not  immediately  recollecting  themselves,  she 


174  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

felt  an  instant  impression  that  all  had  indeed  been  but  a  dream, 
and  starting  in  affright  she  exclaimed,  "  Where  am  I  ?  Wal- 
lace, where  art  thou  ?  "  —  "Here,"  cried  he,  pressing  her  hand 
with  fraternal  tenderness,  "  I  am  here ;  you  are  safe  with  your 
friend  and  brother."  Her  heart  beat  with  a  terror  which  this 
assurance  could  hardly  subdue.  At  last  she  said  in  an  agitated 
voice,  "  Forgive  me  if  my  senses  are  a  little  strayed.  I  have 
suffered  so  much,  and  this  release  seems  so  miraculous  that  at 
moments  I  hardly  believe  it  real.  I  wish  daylight  were  come, 
that  I  might  be  convinced."  When  she  had  uttered  the  words 
she  suddenly  stopped,  and  then  added,  "  But  I  am  very  weak 
to  talk  thus.  I  believe  my  late  terrors  have  disordered  my 
head." 

"What  you  feel,  lady,  is  only  natural,"  observed  Bruce.  "I 
experienced  the  same  when  I  first  regained  my  liberty  and 
found  myself  on  the  road  to  join  Sir  William  Wallace.  Dear, 
indeed,  is  liberty,  but  dearer  is  the  friend  whose  virtues  make 
our  recovered  freedom  sure."  —  "  Who  speaks  to  me  ?  "  said 
Helen,  in  a  low  voice  to  Wallace,  and  raising  her  head  from 
that  now  supporting  arm  on  which  she  felt  she  did  but  too 
much  delight  to  lean.  "  One,"  answered  Wallace,  in  the  same 
tone,  "  who  is  not  to  be  publicly  known  until  occasion  demands 
it,  — one  who  I  trust  in  God  will  one  day  seal  the  happiness  of 
Scotland,  —  Robert  Bruce."  That  name  which,  when  in  her 
idea  it  belonged  to  Wallace,  used  to  raise  such  emotions  in 
her  breast,  she  now  heard  with  an  indifference  that  surprised 
her.  But  who  could  be  more  to  Scotland  than  Wallace  had 
been  ?  All  that  was  in  the  power  of  patriot  or  of  king  to  do 
for  his  country  he  had  done,  and  what  then  was  Bruce  in  her 
estimation  ?  One  who,  basking  in  pleasures  while  his  country 
suffered,  allowed  a  brave  subject  to  breast,  to  overthrow,  every 
danger,  before  he  would  put  himself  forward !  and  now  he  ap- 
peared to  assume  a  throne  which,  though  his  right  by  birth,  he 
had  most  justly  forfeited,  by  neglecting  the  duties  indispensa- 
ble in  the  heir  of  so  great  and  oppressed  a  kingdom.  These 
would  have  been  her  thoughts  of  him — but  Wallace  called 
this  Bruce  his  friend !  and  the  few  words  she  had  heard  him 
speak  being  full  of  gratitude  to  her  deliverer,  that  engaged  her 
esteem. 

The  answer,  however,  which  she  made  to  the  reply  of  Wal- 
lace was  spontaneous,  and  it  struck  upon  the  heart  of  Bruce. 
"  How  long,"  said  she,  "  have  you  promised  Scotland  it  should 
see  that  day ! " 

"Long,  to  my  grief,  Lady  Helen,"  rejoined  Bruce ;  "  I  would 


FOREST    OF    VINCENNES.  175 

say  to  my  shame,  had  I  ever  intentionally  erred  towards  my 
country ;  but  ignorance  of  her  state  and  of  the  depth  of  Edward's 
treachery  was  my  crime.  I  only  required  to  be  shown  the  right 
path  to  pursue  it,  and  Sir  William  Wallace  came  to  point  the 
way.  My  soul,  lady,  is  not  worthy  the  destiny  to  which  he 
calls  me."  Had  there  been  light  she  would  have  seen  the 
flush  of  conscious  virtue  that  overspread  his  fine  countenance 
while  he  spoke  ;  but  the  words  were  sufficient  to  impress  her 
with  that  respect  he  deserved,  and  which  her  answer  showed. 
"  My  father  taught  me  to  consider  the  Bruce  the  rightful  heirs 
of  Scotland,  and  now  that  I  see  the  day  which  he  so  often 
wished  to  hail,  I  cannot  but  regard  it  as  the  termination  of 
Scotland's  woes.  Oh,  had  it  been  before,  perhaps"  —  here 
she  paused,  for  tears  stopped  her  utterance.  "  You  think," 
rejoined  Bruce,  "that  much  bloodshed  might  have  been  spared. 
But,  dear  lady,  poison  not  the  comfort  of  your  life  by  that 
belief.  No  man  exists  who  could  have  effected  so  much  for 
Scotland  in  so  short  a  time  and  with  so  little  loss  as  our  Wal- 
lace has  done.  Who,  like  him,  makes  mercy  the  companion  of 
war,  and  compels  even  his  enemies  to  emulate  the  clemency  he 
shows  ?  Fewer  have  been  slain  on  the  Scottish  side  during 
the  whole  of  his  struggle  with  Edward  than  were  lost  by 
Baliol  on  the  fatal  day  of  Dunbar.  Then  no  quarter  was 
given,  and  too  many  of  the  wounded  were  left  to  perish  on  the 
field.  But  with  Wallace,  life  was  granted  to  all  who  asked  ; 
the  wounded  enemy  and  the  friend  were  alike  succored  by 
him.  This  conduct  provoked  the  jealousy  of  the  Southron 
generals  not  to  be  surpassed  in  generosity,  and  thus,  compar- 
atively, few  have  been  lost.  But  if  in  that  number  some  were 
our  noblest  chiefs,  we  must  be  resigned  to  yield  to  God  what 
is  his  own ;  nay,  we  must  be  grateful,  daughter  of  the  gallant 
Mar,  for  the  manner  in  which  they  were  taken.  They  fell  in 
the  arms  of  true  glory,  like  parents  defending  their  offspring ; 
while  others,  my  grandfather  and  father,  perished  with  broken 
hearts,  in  unavailing  lamentations  that  they  could  not  share 
the  fate  of  those  who  died  for  Scotland."  —  "  But  you,  dear 
Bruce,"  returned  Wallace,  "  will  live  for  her,  will  teach  those 
whose  hearts  have  bled  in  her  cause  to  find  a  balm  for  every 
wound  in  her  prosperity." 

Helen  smiled  through  her  tears  at  these  words ;  they  spoke 
the  heavenly  consolation  which  had  descended  on  her  own 
mourning  spirit.  "  If  Scotland  be  to  rest  under  the  happy  reign 
of  Robert  Bruce,  then  envy  cannot  again  assail  Sir  William 
Wallace,  and  my  father  has  not  shed  his  blood  in  vain.  His 


176  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

beatified  spirit,  with  those  of  my  uncles  Bothwell  and  Ruth- 
ven,  will  rejoice  in  such  a  peace,  and  I  shall  enjoy  it  to  felicity 
in  so  sacred  a  participation."  Surprised  at  her  associating  the 
name  of  Lord  Ruthven  with  those  who  had  fallen,  Wallace 
interrupted  her  with  the  assurance  of  her  uncle's  safety.  The 
Scottish  chiefs  easily  understood  that  De  Valence  had  given 
her  the  opposite  intelligence,  to  impress  her  with  an  idea  that 
she  was  friendless,  and  so  precipitate  her  into  the  determination 
of  becoming  his  wife ;  but  she  did  not  repeat  to  her  brave 
auditors  all  the  arguments  he  had  used  to  shake  her  impreg- 
nable heart  —  impregnable  because  a  principle  kept  guard  there 
which  neither  flattery  nor  ambition  could  dispossess.  He  had 
told  her  that  the  very  day  in  which  she  would  give  him  her 
hand,  King  Edward  would  send  him  viceroy  into  Scotland, 
where  she  should  reign  with  all  the  power  and  magnificence  of 
a  queen.  He  was  handsome,  accomplished,  and  adored  her ; 
but  Helen  could  not  love  him  whom  she  could  not  esteem,  for 
she  knew  he  was  libertine,  base,  and  cruel.  That  he  loved 
her  affected  her  not ;  she  could  only  be  sensible  to  an  affection 
placed  on  worthy  foundations,  and  he  who  trampled  on  all 
virtues  in  his  own  actions  could  not  desire  them  when  seen  in 
her.  He,  therefore,  must  love  her  for  the  fairness  of  her  form 
alone,  and  to  place  any  value  on  such  affection  was  to  grasp 
the  wind.  Personal  flatteries  having  made  no  impression  on 
Helen,  ambitious  projects  were  attempted  with  equal  failure. 
Had  I>e  Valence  been  lord  of  the  east  and  western  empire, 
could  he  have  made  her  the  envy  and  admiration  of  a  congre- 
gated world,  all  would  have  been  in  vain ;  she  had  seen  and 
known  the  virtues  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  and  from  that  hour 
all  that  was  excellent  in  man,  all  that  was  desirable  on  earth, 
seemed  to  her  to  be  in  him  summed  up.  "On  the  barren 
heath,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  in  some  desert  island,  with  only 
thee  and  thy  virtues,  how  happy  could  be  Helen  Mar !  how 
great!  For  to  share  thy  heart,  thy  noble,  glorious  heart, 
would  be  a  bliss,  a  seal  of  honor  'from  Heaven,  with  which  no 
terrestrial  elevation  could  compare !  "  Then  would  she  sigh ; 
then  would  she  thank  God  for  so  ennobling  her  as  to  make 
her  capable  of  appreciating  and  loving  above  all  earthly  things 
the  matchless  virtues  of  Sir  William  Wallace.  On  the  very 
evening  of  the  night  in  which  he  had  so  unexpectedly  ap- 
peared to  release  her,  her  thoughts  had  been  engaged  in  this 
train.  "  Yes,"  cried  she  to  herself,  "  even  in  loving  thy  per- 
fections there  is  such  enjoyment  that  I  would  rather  be  as  I 
am,  what  others  might  call  the  hopeless  Helen,  than  the  lov- 


FOREST    OF    VINCENNES.  177 

ing  and  beloved  of  any  other  man  on  earth.  In  thee  I  love 
virtue,  and  the  imperishable  sentiment  will  bless  me  in  the 
world  to  come.'7  With  these  thoughts  she  had  fallen  asleep ; 
she  dreamt  that  she  called  on  her  father,  on  Wallace,  to  save 
her,  and  on  opening  her  eyes  she  had  found  him  indeed  near. 

Every  word  which  this  almost  adored  friend  now  said  to 
comfort  her  with  regard  to  her  own  immediate  losses,  to  assure 
her  of  the  peace  of  Scotland,  should  Heaven  bless  the  return 
of  Bruce,  took  root  in  her  soul  and  sprang  up  into  resignation 
and  happiness.  She  listened  to  the  plans  of  Wallace  and  of 
Bruce  to  effect  their  great  enterprise,  and  the  hours  of  the  night 
passed  to  her  not  only  in  repose,  but  in  enjoyment.  Wallace, 
though  pleased  with  the  interest  she  took  in  even  the  minutest 
details  of  their  design,  became  fearful  of  overtasking  her 
weakened  frame ;  he  whispered  Bruce  gradually  to  drop  the 
conversation,  and,  as  it  died  away,  slumber  again  stole  over 
her  eyelids. 

The  dawn  had  spread  f ar  over  the  sky  while  she  yet  slept. 
Wallace  sat  contemplating  her  and  the  now  sleeping  Bruce, 
who  had  also  imperceptibly  sunk  to  rest.  Various  and  anxious 
were  his  meditations..  He  had  hardly  seen  seven-and-twenty 
years,  yet  so  had  he  been  tried  in  the  vicissitudes  of  life  that 
he  felt  as  if  he  had  lived  a  century,  and  instead  of  looking  on 
the  lovely  Helen  as  on  one  whose  charms  might  claim  a  lover's 
wishes  in  his  breast,  he  regarded  her  with  sentiments  more 
like  parental  tenderness.  That,  indeed,  seemed  the  affection 
which  now  reigned  in  his  bosom.  He  felt  as  a  father  towards 
Scotland.  For  every  son  and  daughter  of  that  harassed 
country  he  was  ready  to  lay  down  his  life.  Edwin  he  cher- 
ished in  his  heart  as  he  would  have  done  the  dearest  of  his 
own  offspring.  It  was  as  a  parent  to  whom  a  beloved  and 
prodigal  son  had  returned  that  he  looked  on  Bruce.  But 
Helen,  of  all  Scotland's  daughters,  she  was  the  most  precious 
in  his  eyes ;  set  love  aside,  and  no  object  without  the  touch  of 
that  all-pervading  passion  could  he  regard  with  more  endear- 
ing tenderness  than  he  did  Helen  Mar. 

The  shades  of  night  vanished  before  the  bright  uprise  of 
the  king  of  day,  and  with  them  her  slumbers.  She  stirred, 
she  awoke.  The  lark  was  then  soaring  with  shrill  cadence 
over  her  head ;  its  notes  pierced  the  ear  of  Bruce,  and  he  started 
on  his  feet.  "  You  have  allowed  me  to  sleep,  Wallace  ?  "  — 
"  And  why  not  ?  "  replied  he.  "  Here  it  was  safe  for  all  to 
have  slept.  Yet  had  there  been  danger  I  was  at  my  post  to 
have  called  you."  He  gently  smiled  as  he  spoke. 

VOL.  II.  — 12 


178  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  Whence,  my  friend,"  cried  Bruce,  with  a  respondent  bearo 
on  his  countenance,  "  did  you  draw  the  ethereal  essence  that 
animates  your  frame  ?  You  toil  for  us,  watch  for  us,  and  yet 
you  never  seem  fatigued,  never  discomposed.  How  is  this  ? 
What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  That  the  soul  is  immortal,"  answered  Wallace ;  "  that  it  has 
a  godlike  power  given  to  it  by  the  Giver  of  all  good,  even  while 
on  earth,  to  subdue  the  wants  of  this  mortal  frame.  The  cir- 
cumstances in  which  Heaven  has  cast  me  have  disciplined  my 
body  to  obey  my  mind  in  all  things,  and  therefore,  when  the 
motives  for  exertion  are  strong  within  me,  it  is  long,  very  long, 
before  I  feel  hunger,  thirst,  or  drowsiness.  Indeed,  while  thus 
occupied,  I  have  often  thought  it  possible  for  the  activity  of 
the  soul  so  to  wear  the  body  that  some  day  she  might  find  it 
suddenly  fall  away  from  about  her  spiritual  substance,  and 
leave  her  unencumbered  without  having  felt  the  touch  of 
death.  And  yet,  that  Elisha-like  change,"  continued  Wallace, 
following  up  his  own  thought,  "could  not  be  till  Heaven  sees 
the  appointed  time.  '  Man  does  not  live  by  bread  alone ; ' 
neither  by  sleep  nor  any  species  of  refreshment.  His  spirit 
alone  who  created  all  things  can  give  us  rest  while  we  keep 
the  strictest  vigils ;  his  power  can  sustain  the  wasting  frame 
even  in  a  barren  wilderness." 

"  True,"  replied  Helen,  looking  timidly  up ;  "  but  because 
Heaven  is  so  gracious  as  sometimes  to  work  miracles  in  our 
favor,  surely  we  are  not  authorized  to  neglect  the  natural 
means  of  obtaining  the  same  end  ? " 

"  Certainly  not,"  returned  Wallace ;  "  it  is  not  for  man  to 
tempt  God  at  any  time.  Sufficient  for  us  it  is  to  abide  by  his 
all-wise  dispensations.  When  we  are  in  circumstances  that 
allow  the  usual  means  of  life,  it  is  demanded  of  us  to  use  them. 
But  when  we  are  brought  into  situations  where  watching,  fast- 
ing, and  uncommon  toils  are  not  to  be  avoided,  then  it  is  an 
essential  part  of  our  obedience  to  perform  our  duties  to  the 
end  without  any  regard  to  the  wants  which  may  impede  our 
way.  It  is  in  such  an  hour,  when  the  soul  of  man,  resolved  to 
obey,  looks  down  on  human  nature  and  looks  up  to  God,  that 
lie  receives  both  the  manna  and  the  ever-living  waters  of 
Heaven.  By  this  faith  and  perseverance  the  uplifted  hands  of 
Moses  prevailed  over  Amalek  in  Eephidim,  and  by  the  same 
did  the  lengthened  race  of  the  sun  light  Joshua  to  a  double 
victory  in  Gibeon." 

The  morning  vapors  having  dispersed  from  the  opposite  plain, 
and  Helen  quite  refreshed  by  her  long  repose,  Wallace  seated 


FOREST    OF    VINCENNES.  179 

her  on  horseback  and  they  recommenced  their  journey.  The 
helmets  of  both  chiefs  were  now  open.  Grimsby  looked  at 
one  and  the  other :  the  countenance  of  both  assured  him  that 
he  should  find  a  protector  in  either.  He  drew  towards  Helen  ; 
she  noticed  his  manner,  and  observing  to  Wallace  that  she  be- 
lieved the  soldier  wished  to  speak  with  her,  checked  her  horse. 
At  this  action  Grimsby  presumed  to  ride  up,  and,  bowing 
respectfully,  said  that  before  he  followed  her  to  Paris  it  would 
be  right  for  the  Count  de  Valois  to  know  whom  he  had  taken 
into  his  train  ;  "  one,  madam,  who  has  been  degraded  by  King 
Edward — degraded,"  added  he,  "but. not  debased.  That  last 
disgrace  depends  on  myself,  and  I  should  shrink  from  your 
protection  rather  than  court  it,  were  I  indeed  vile."  —  "I  have 
too  well  proved  your  integrity,  Grimsby,"  replied  Helen,  "to 
doubt  it  now ;  but  what  has  the  Count  de  Valois  to  do  with 
your  being  under  my  protection  ?  It  is  not  to  him  we  go,  but 
to  the  French  king."  —  "  And  is  not  that  knight  with  the  dia- 
dem," inquired  Grimsby,  "  the  Count  de  Valois  ?  The  ser- 
vants at  Chateau  Galliard  told  me  he  was  so."  Surprised  at 
this,  Helen  said  the  knight  should  answer  for  himself,  and, 
quickening  the  steps  of  her  horse,  followed  by  Grimsby,  re- 
joined his  side. 

When  she  informed  Wallace  of  what  had  passed,  he  called 
the  soldier  to  approach.  "  Grimsby,"  said  he,  "  you  have 
claims  upon  me  which  should  ensure  you  my  protection,  were  I 
even  insensible  to  the  honorable  principles  you  have  just  de- 
clared to  Lady  Helen.  But,  I  repeat,  I  am  already  your  friend. 
You  have  only  to  speak,  and  all  in  my  power  to  serve  you 
shall  be  done."  —  "  Then,  sir,"  returned  he,  "  as  mine  is  rather 
a  melancholy  story,  and  parts  of  it  have  already  drawn  tears 
from  Lady  Helen,  if  you  will  honor  me  with  your  attention 
apart  from  her  I  would  relate  how  I  fell  into  disgrace  with  my 
sovereign." 

Wallace  fell  a  little  back  with  Grimsby,  and  while  Bruce 
and  Helen  rode  briskly  forward,  he,  at  a  slower  pace,  prepared 
to  listen  to  the  recapitulation  of  scenes  in  which  he  was  only 
too  deeply  interested.  The  soldier  began  by  narrating  the 
fatal  events  at  Ellerslie  which  had  compelled  him  to  leave  the 
army  in  Scotland.  He  related  that  after  quitting  the  priory 
of  St.  Fillan  he  reached  Guienne,  and  there  served  under  the 
Earl  of  Lincoln  until  the  marriage  of  Edward  with  King 
Philip's  sister  gave  the  English  monarch  quiet  possession  of 
that  province.  Grimsby  then  marched  with  the  rest  of  the 
troops  to  join  their  sovereign  in  Flanders.  There  he  was  recog- 


180  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

nized  and  brought  to  judgment  by  one  of  Heselrigge's  cap- 
tains, one  who  had  been  a  particular  favorite  with  that  tyrant 
from  their  similarity  of  disposition,  and  to  whom  he  had  told 
the  mutiny  and  desertion  (as  he  called  it)  of  Grimsby.  But 
on  the  representation  of  the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  his  punishment 
was  mitigated  from  death  to  the  infliction  of  ')  certain  number 
of  lashes.  This  sentence,  which  the  honest  soldier  regarded  as 
worse  than  the  loss  of  life,  was  executed.  On  stripping  him 
at  the  halberts,  Lady  Helen's  gift,  the  diamond  clasp,  was 
found  hanging  round  his  neck.  This  was  seized  as  a  proof  of 
some  new  crime;  his  general  now  gave  him  up,  and  so  incon- 
sistent were  his  judges  that  while  they  allowed  his  treason 
(for  so  they  stigmatized  his  manly  resentment  of  Heselrigge's 
cruelty)  to  prejudice  them  in  this  second  charge,  they  would 
not  believe  what  was  so  probable,  that  this  very  jewel  had 
been  given  to  him  by  a  friend  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  in 
reward  for  his  behavior  on  that  occasion.  He  appealed  to 
Edward,  but  he  appealed  in  vain,  and  on  the  following  day  he 
was  adjudged  to  be  broken  on  the  wheel  for  the  supposed 
robbery.  Every  heart  was  callous  to  his  sufferings  but  that 
of  the  wife  of  his  jailer,  who,  fancying  him  like  a  brother  of 
hers  who  had  been  killed  ten  years  before  in  Italy,  at  the 
dead  of  the  night  she  opened  his  prison  doors.  He  fled  into 
Normandy,  and,  without  a  home,  outlawed,  branded  as  a  traitor 
and  a  thief,  he  was  wandering,  half-desperate,  one  stormy  night, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Marne,  when  a  cry  of  distress  attracted 
his  attention.  It  issued  from  the  suite  of  De  Valence,  in  his 
way  to  Guienne.  Scared  at  the  tempest,  the  female  attendants 
of  Lady  Helen  had  abandoned  themselves  to  shrieks  of  despair, 
but  she,  insensible  to  anything  but  grief,  lay  in  perfect  still- 
ness in  the  litter  that  conveyed  her.  As  Grimsby  approached 
the  travellers,  De  Valence  demanded  his  assistance  to  conduct 
them  to  a  place  of  shelter.  Chateau  Galliard  was  the  nearest 
residence  fit  to  receive  the  earl  and  his  train.  Thither  the 
soldier  led  them,  and  heard  from  the  servants  that  the  lady  in 
the  vehicle  was  their  lord's  wife,  and  a  lunatic.  Grimsby  re- 
mained in  the  chateau  because  he  had  nowhere  else  to  go,  and 
by  accidental  speeches  from  the  lady's  attendants  soon  found 
that  she  was  not  married  to  the  earl,  and  was  not  only  per- 
fectly sane,  but  often  most  cruelly  treated.  Her  name  he  had 
never  learnt  until  the  last  evening  when,  carrying  some  wine 
into  the  banqueting-room,  he  heard  De  Valence  mention  it  to  the 
other  stranger  knight.  He  then  retired  full  of  horror,  resolv- 
ing to  essay  her  rescue  himself,  but  the  unexpected  sight  of 


FOREST    OF    VINCENNES.  181 

the  two  knights  in  the  hall  determined  him  to  reveal  the  case 
to  them.  "  This,"  added  Grimsby,  "  is  my  story,  and  whoever 
you  are,  noble  lord,  if  you  think  me  not  unworthy  your  pro- 
tection, grant  it,  and  you  shall  find  me  faithful  unto  death." 

"I  owe  you  that  and  more,"  replied  the  chief.  "I  am  that 
Wallace  on  whose  account  you  fled  your  country,  and  if  you 
be  willing  to  share  the  fortunes  of  one  who  may  live  and  die 
in  camps,  I  pledge  you  that  my  best  destiny  shall  be  yours." 
Could  Grimsby,  in  his  joyful  surprise,  have  thrown  himself  at 
the  feet  o*f  Wallace,  he  would  have  done  so ;  but  taking  hold 
of  the  end  of  his  scarf,  he  pressed  it  enthusiastically  to  his 
lips  and  exclaimed,  "Bravest  of  the  brave !  this  is  beyond  my 
prayers,  to  meet  here  the  triumphant  lord  of  Scotland.  I  fell 
innocently  into  disgrace ;  ah,  how  am  I  now  exalted  unto 
honor  !  My  country  would  have  deprived  me  of  life ;  I  am 
therefore  dead  to  it,  and  live  only  to  gratitude  and  you."  — 
"  Then  replied  Wallace,  "  as  the  first  proof  of  the  confidence 
I  repose  in  you,  know  that  the  young  chief  who  is  riding  for- 
ward with  Lady  Helen  is  Robert  Bruce,  the  Prince  of  Scotland. 
Our  next  enterprise  is  to  place  him  upon  the  throne  of  his  an- 
cestors. Meanwhile,  till  we  license  you  to  do  otherwise,  keep 
our  names  a  secret  and  call  us  by  those  we  may  hereafter  think 
fit  to  assume." 

Grimsby,  once  more  reinstated  in  the  station  he  deserved, 
that  of  trust  and  respect,  no  longer  hung  his  head  in  abject 
despondency,  but  looking  erect  as  one  born  again  from  dis- 
grace, he  became  the  active,  cheerful,  and  faithful  servant  of 
Wallace. 

During  Wallace's  conversation  with  the  soldier,  Helen  was 
listening  with  delight  to  the  encomiums  which  Bruce  passed 
upon  his  friend  and  champion.  As  his  eloquent  tongue  de- 
scribed the  merits  of  Wallace  and  expressed  an  ardent  grati- 
tude for  his  having  so  gloriously  supplied  his  place  to  Scotland, 
Helen  turned  her  eyes  upon  the  prince.  Before,  she  had 
scarcely  remarked  that  he  was  more  than  young  and  hand- 
some ;  but  now,  while  she  contemplated  the  noble  confidence 
which  breathed  in  every  feature,  she  said  to  herself,  "This 
man  is  worthy  to  be  the  friend  of  Wallace.  His  soul  is  a 
mirror  to  reflect  all  the  brightness  of  Wallace's,  ay,  like  as 
with  the  sun's  rays,  to  kindle  with  Heaven's  fire  all  on  whom 
it  turns." 

Bruce  remarked  the  unusual  animation  of  her  eyes  as  she 
looked  on  him.  "You  feel  all  I  say  of  Wallace,"  said  he. 
A.nd  it  was  not  a  charge  at  which  she  had  need  to  blush. 


182  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

It  was  addressed  to  that  perception  of  exalted  worth  which 
regards  neither  sex  nor  age.  Helen  did  not  misapprehend 
him.  The  amiable  frankness  of  his  manner  seemed  to  open  to 
him  her  heart.  Wallace  she  adored  almost  as  a  god ;  Bruce 
she  could  love  as  a  brother.  It  requires  not  time  nor  proof  to 
make  virtuous  hearts  coalesce ;  there  is  a  language  without 
sounds,  a  recognition  independent  of  the  visual  organ,  which 
acknowledges  the  kindred  of  congenial  souls  almost  in  the 
moment  they  meet.  "  The  virtuous  mind  knoweth  itg  brother 
in  the  dark."  This  was  said  by  the  man  whose  soul  sympa- 
thized in  every  noble  purpose  with  that  of  Wallace,  while 
Helen,  impelled  by  the  same  principle,  and  blushing  with  an 
emotion  untainted  by  any  sensation  of  shame,  replied,  "  I  'too 
am  grateful  to  Heaven  for  having  allowed  me  to  witness  the 
goodness,  to  share  the  esteem,  of  such  a  being  —  a  man  whose 
like  I  have  never  seen."  —  "  He  is  one  of  the  few,  Lady  Helen," 
replied  Bruce,  "who  is  worthy  of  so  august  a  title;  and  he 
brightly  shows  the  image  in  which  he  was  made,  so  humble,  so 
dignified,  so  great,  so  lowly,  so  supereminent  in  all  accomplish- 
ments of  mind  and  body,  wise,  brave,  and  invincible,  yet  for- 
bearing, gentle,  and  unassuming,  formed  to  be  beloved,  yet 
without  a  touch  of  vanity,  loving  all  who  approach  him,  with- 
out the  least  alloy  of  passion.  Ah,  Lady  Helen,  he  is  a  model 
after  which  I  will  fashion  my  life,  for  he  has  written  the 
character  of  the  Son  of  God  in  his  heart,  and  it  shall  be  my 
study  to  transcribe  the  blessed  copy  into  mine."  Tears  of 
gratitude  glittered  in  the  eye  and  on  the  smile  of  Helen.  To 
answer  Bruce  she  found  to  be  impossible,  but  that  her  smile 
^and  look  were  fully  appreciated  by  him,  his  own  told  her  ;  and 
stretching  out  his  hand  to-  her,  as  she  put  hers  into  his,  he  said, 
"We  are  united  in  his  heart,  my  sweet  friend."  At  this 
moment  Wallace  joined  them.  He  saw  the  action  and  the  ani- 
mation of  each  countenance,  and  looked  at  Bruce  with  a  glance 
of  inquiry  ;  but  Bruce  perceived  nothing  of  a  lover's  jealousy 
in  the  look ;  it  carried  the  wish  of  a  friend  to  share  what  had 
impressed  them  with  such  happy  traits. 

"  We  have  been  talking  of  you,"  returned  the  prince,  "  and 
if  to  be  beloved  is  a  source  of  joy,  you  must  be  peculiarly 
blest.  The  affections  of  Lady  Helen  and  myself  have  met 
and  made  your  heart  the  altar  on  which  we  have  pledged  our 
fraternal  love."  Wallace  regarded  each  with  a  look  of  tender- 
ness. "  It  is  my  joy  to  love  you  both  like  a  brother,  but  Lady 
Helen  must  consider  me  as  even  more  than  that  to  her.  I  am 
her  father's  representative  j  I  am  the  voice  of  grateful  Scot- 


FOREST    OF    VINCENNES.  183 

land  thanking  her  for  the  preservation  her  generous  exertions 
yielded.  And  to  you,  my  prince,  I  am  your  friend,  your  sub- 
ject, all  that  is  devoted  and  true:" 

Thus  enjoying  the  dear  communion  of  hearts,  the  inter- 
change of  mind,  and  mingling  soul  with  soul,  did  these  three 
friends  journey  towards  the  gates  of  Paris.  Every  hour 
seemed  an  age  of  blessedness  to  Helen,  so  gratefully  did  she 
enjoy  each  passing  moment  of  a  happiness  that  seemed  to  speak 
of  paradise.  Nature  never  before  appeared  so  beautiful  in  her 
eyes ;  the  sky  was  more  serene,  the  birds  sung  with  sweeter 
notes,  the  landscape  shone  in  brighter  charms,  the  fragrance  of 
the  flowers  bathed  her  senses  in  softest  balm,  and  the  very 
air  as  it  breathed  around  her  seemed  fraught  with  life  and  joy. 
But  Wallace  animated  the  scene,  and  while  she  fancied  that 
she  inhaled  his  breath  in  every  respiration,  she  moved  as  if  on 
enchanted  ground.  Oh,  she  could  have  lingered  there  forever ! 
and  hardly  did  she  know  what  it  was  to  draw  any  but  sighs  of 
bliss  till  she  saw  the  towers  of  Paris  embattling  the  horizon. 
They  reminded  her  that  she  was  now  going  to  be  occasionally 
divided  from  him,  that  when  entered  within  those  walls  it 
would  no  longer  be  deemed  decorous  for  her  to  pass  days  and 
nights  in  listening  to  his  voice,  in  losing  all  of  woman's  love 
in  the  beatified  affection  of  an  angel. 

This  passion  of  the  soul  (if  such  it  may  be  called),  which 
has  its  rise  in  virtue  and  its  aim  the  same,  would  be  most  un- 
justly degraded  were  it  classed  with  what  the  herd  generally 
entitle  love.  The  love  which  men  stigmatize,  deride,  and  yet 
encourage,  is  a  fancy,  an  infatuation  awakened  by  personal 
attractions,  by — the  lover  knows  not  what,  sometimes  by  grati- 
fied vanity,  sometimes  by  idleness,  and  often  by  the  most  debas- 
ing propensities  of  human  nature.  Earthly  it  is,  and  unto  earth 
it  shall  return.  But  love,  true,  heaven-born  love,  that  pure  affec- 
tion which  unites  congenial  spirits  here,  and  with  which  the 
Creator  will  hereafter  connect  in  one  blest  fraternity  the  whole 
kindred  of  mankind,  has  but  one  cause  —  the  universal  fairness 
of  its  object,  that  bright  perfection  which  speaks  of  unchange- 
ableness  and  immortality;  a  something  so  excellent  that  the 
simple  wish  to  partake  its  essence  in  the  union  of  affection 
—  to  facilitate  and  to  share  its  attainment  of  true  and  last- 
ing happiness  —  invigorates  our  virtue  and  inspires  our  souls. 
These  are  the  aims  and  joys  of  real  love.  It  has  nothing 
selfish ;  in  every  desire  it  soars  above  this  earth  and  antici- 
pates^, as  the  ultimatum  of  its  joy,  the  moment  when  it  shall 
meet  its  partner  before  the  throne  of  God.  Such  was  the  senti 


184  THE    SCOTTISH   CHIEFS. 

ment  of  Helen  towards  Wallace.  So  unlike  what  she  had  seen 
in  others  of  the  universal  passion,  she  would  hardly  have  ac- 
knowledged to  herself  that  what  she  felt  was  love,  had  not  the 
anticipation  of  even  an  hour's  separation  from  him  whispered 
the  secret  to  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

PARIS. 

WHEN  they  were  arrived  within  a  short  distance  from  Paris 
Wallace  wrote  a  few  lines  to  King  Philip,  informing  him  who 
were  the  companions  of  his  journey,  and  that  he  would  rest 
near  the  abbey  of  St.  Gene  vie  ve  until  he  should  receive  his 
majesty's  greetings  to  Bruce,  also  the  queen's  granted  protec- 
tion for  the  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Mar.  Grimsby  was  the 
bearer  of  this  letter.  He  soon  returned  with  an  escort  of 
honor,  accompanied  by  Prince  Louis  himself.  At  sight  of 
Wallace  he  flew  into  his  arms,  and  after  embracing  him  again 
and  again  with  all  the  unchecked  ardor  of  youthful  gratitude, 
he  presented  to  him  a  packet  from  the  king. 

It  expressed  the  satisfaction  of  Philip  at  the  near  prospect 
of  his  seeing  the  man  whom  he  had  so  long  admired,  and 
whose  valor  had  wrought  him  such  service  as  the  preservation 
of  his  son.  He  then  added  that  he  had  other  matters  to  thank 
him  for  when  they  should  meet,  and  subjects  to  discuss  which 
would  be  more  elucidated  by  the  presence  of  Bruce.  "  Ac- 
cording to  your  request,"  continued  he,  "  the  name  of  neither 
shall  be  made  public  at  my  court.  My  own  family  only  know 
who  are  to  be  my  illustrious  guests.  The  queen  is  impatient 
to  bid  them  welcome,  and  no  less  eager  to  greet  the  Lady 
Helen  Mar  with  her  friendship  and  protection." 

A  beautiful  palfrey,  superbly  caparisoned  and  tossing  its 
fair  neck  amid  the  pride  of  its  gorgeous  chanfraine,  was  led 
forward  by  a  page.  Two  ladies  also,  bearing  rich  apparel  for 
Helen,  appeared  in  the  train.  When  their  errand  was  made 
known  to  Wallace  he  communicated  it  to  Helen.  Her  delicacy 
indeed  wished  to  lay  aside  her  page's  apparel  before  she  was 
presented  to  the  queen  —  but  she  had  been  so  happy  while 
she  wore  it !  "  Days  have  passed  with  me,  in  these  gar- 
ments," said  she  to  herself,  "  which  may  never  occur  again." 
The  ladies  were  conducted  to  her.  They  delivered  a  gracious 


PARIS.  185 

message  from  their  royal  mistress,  and  opened  the  caskets. 
Helen  sighed;  she  could  urge  nothing  in  opposition  to  their 
embassy,  and  reluctantly  assented  to  the  change  they  were 
to  make  in  her  appearance.  She  stood  mute  while  they  disar- 
rayed her  of  her  humble  guise  and  clothed  her  in  the  robes  of 
France.  During  their  attendance,  in  the  adulatory  strains  of 
the  court  they  broke  out  in  encomiums  on  the  graces  of  her 
person ;  but  to  all  this  she  turned  an  inattentive  ear ;  her  mind 
was  absorbed  in  what  she  had  enjoyed,  in  the  splendid  pen- 
ance she  might  now  undergo. 

One  of  the  women  was  throwing  the  page's  clothes  care- 
lessly into  a  bag,  when  Helen  perceiving  her,  with  ill-concealed 
eagerness  cried,  "  Take  care  of  that  suit ;  it  is  more  precious 
to  me  than  gold  or  jewels."  —  "  Indeed  ! "  answered  the  at- 
tendant, more  respectfully  folding  it ;  "  it  does  not  seem  of 
very  rich  silk."  —  "  Probably  not,"  returned  Helen ;  "  but  it  is 
valuable  to  me,  and  wherever  I  lodge  I  will  thank  you  to  put 
it  into  my  apartment."  A  mirror  was  now  presented,  that  she 
might  see  herself.  She  started  at  the  load  of  jewels  with 
which  they  had  adorned  her  ;  and  while  tears  filled  her  eyes, 
she  mildly  said,  "  I  am  a  mourner ;  these  ornaments  must  not 
be  worn  by  me."  The  ladies  obeyed  her  wish  to  have  them 
taken  off,  and,  with  thoughts  divided  between  her  father  and 
her  father's  friend,  she  was  conducted  towards  the  palfrey. 
Wallace  approached  her,  and  Bruce  flew  forward  with  his 
usual  haste  to  assist  her ;  but  it  was  no  longer  the'  beautiful 
little  page  that  met  his  view,  the  confidential  and  frank  glance 
of  a  youthful  brother.  It  was  a  lovely  woman  arrayed  in  all 
the  charms  of  female  apparel,  trembling  and  blushing  as  she 
again  appeared  as  a  woman  before  the  eyes  of  the  man  she 
loved.  Wallace  sighed  as  he  touched  her  hand,  for  there  was 
something  in  her  air  which  seemed  to  say,  "  I  am  not  what  I 
was  a  few  minutes  ago."  It  was  the  aspect  of  the  world's 
austerity,  the  decorum  of  rank  and  situation,  but  not  of  the 
heart,  that  had  never  been  absent  from  the  conduct  of 
Helen.  Had  she  been  in  the  wilds  of  Africa  with  no  other  com- 
panion than  Wallace,  still  would  those  chaste  reserves  which 
lived  in  her  soul  have  been  there  the  guardians  of  her  actions, 
for  modesty  was  as  much  the  attribute  of  her  person  as  mag- 
nanimity the  character  of  her  mind. 

Her  more  distant  air  at  this  time  was  the  effect  of  reflec- 
tions while  in  the  abbey  where  he  had  lodged  her.  She  saw 
that  the  frank  intercourse  between  them  was  to  be  interrupted 
by  the  forms  of  a  court,  and  her  manner  insensibly  assumed 


186  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  demeanor  she  was  so  soon  to  wear.  Bruce  looked  at  her 
with  delighted  wonder.  He  had  before  admired  her  as  beauti- 
ful :  he  now  gazed  on  her  as  transcendently  so.  He  checked 
himself  in  his  swift  step  —  he  paused  to  look  on  her  and 
Wallace,  and  contemplating  them  with  sentiments  of  un- 
mingled  admiration,  this  exclamation  unconsciously  escaped 
him,  "  How  lovely  ! "  He  could  not  but  wish  to  see  two  such 
perfectly  amiable  and  perfectly  beautiful  beings  united  as 
closely  by  the  bonds  of  the  altar  as  he  believed  they  were  in 
heart,  and  he  longed  for  the  hour  when  he  might  endow  them 
with  those  proofs  of  his  fraternal  love  which  should  class 
them  with  the  first  of  Scottish  princes.  "But  how,"  thought 
he,  "can  I  ever  sufficiently  reward  thee,  Wallace,  for  what 
thou  hast  done  for  me  and  mine  ?  Thy  services  are  beyond 
all  price,  thy  soul  is  above  even  empires.  Then  how  can  I 
show  thee  all  that  is  in  my  heart  for  thee  ?  "  While  he  thus 
apostrophized  his  friend,  Wallace  and  Helen  advanced  towards 
him.  Bruce  held  out  his  hand  to  her  with  a  cordial  smile. 
"  Lady  Helen,  we  are  still  to  be  the  same.  Robes  of  no  kind 
must  ever  separate  the  affections  born  in  our  pilgrimage." 
She  put  her  hand  into  his  with  a  glow  of  delight.  "  While  Sir 
William  Wallace  allows  me  to  call  him  brother,"  answered 
she,  "  that  will  ever  be  a  sanction  to  our  friendship;  but  courts 
are  formal  places,  and  I  now  go  to  one."  —  "  And  I  will  soon 
remove  you  to  another,"  replied  he,  "  where  "  —  he  hesitated, 
looked  atiVallace,  and  then  resumed —  "where  every  wish  of 
my  sister  Helen's  heart  shall  be  gratified,  or  I  be  no  king." 
Helen  blushed  deeply  and  hastened  towards  the  palfrey. 
Wallace  placed  her  on  the  embroidered  saddle,  and  Prince 
Louis  preceding  the  cavalcade,  it  moved  on. 

As  Bruce  vaulted  into  his  seat  he  said  something  to  his 
friend  of  the  perfectly  feminine  beauty  of  Helen.  "  But  her 
soul  is  fairer,"  returned  Wallace.  The  Prince  of  Scotland, 
with  a  gay  but  tender  smile,  softly  whispered,  "  Fair,  doubly 
fair,  to  you."  Wallace  drew  a  deep  sigh.  "  I  never  knew  but 
one  woman  who  resembled  her,  and  she  did  indeed  excel  all 
of  created  mould.  From  infancy  to  manhood  I  read  every 
thought  of  her  angelic  heart.  I  became  the  purer  by  the  study, 
and  I  loved  my  model  with  an  idolatrous  adoration.  There 
was  my  error.  But  those  sympathies,  those  hours,  are  past. 
My  heart  will  never  throb  as  it  has  throbbed,  never  rejoice  as 
it  has  rejoiced,  for  she  who  lived  but  for  me,  who  doubled  all 
my  joys,  is  gone.  Oh,  my  prince  !  though  blest  with  friend- 
ship, there  are  times  when  I  feel  that  I  am  solitary."  Bruce 


PARIS,  187 

looked  at  him  with  some  surprise.  "  Solitary,  Wallace  !  can 
you  ever  be  solitary  and  near  Helen  Mar  ?  "  —  "  Perhaps  more 
so  then  than  at  any  other  time,  for  her  beauties,  her  excel- 
lencies, remind  me  of  what  were  once  mine,  and  recall  every 
regret.  Oh,  Bruce !  thou  canst  not  comprehend  my  loss.  To 
mingle  thought  with  thought  and  soul  with  soul  for  years, 
and  then,  after  blending  our  very  beings  and  feeling  as  if 
indeed  made  one,  to  be  separated,  and  by  a  stroke  of  violence., 
This  was  a  trial  of  the  spirit  which,  but  for  Heaven's  mercy, 
would  have  crushed  me.  I  live,  but  still  my  heart  will  mourn  — 
mourn  her  I  have  lost,  and  mourn  that  my  rebellious  nature 
will  not  be  more  resigned  to  the  judgments  of  its  God." 

"  And  is  love  so  constant,  so  tenacious  ?  "  exclaimed  Bruce. 
"Is  it  to  consume  your  youth,  Wallace  ?  Is  it  to  wed  such  a 
heart  as  yours  to  the  tomb  ?  Ah  !  am  I  not  to  hope  that  the 
throne  of  my  children  may  be  upheld  by  a  race  of  thine  ?  " 
Wallace  shook  his  head,  but  with  a  placid  firmness  replied, 
"  Your  throne  and  your  children's,  if  they  follow  your  ex- 
ample, will  be  upheld  by  Heaven ;  but  should  they  pervert 
themselves,  a  host  of  mortal  supports  would  not  be  sufficient 
to  stay  their  downfall." 

In  discourse  like  this  the  youthful  Prince  of  Scotland 
caught  a  clearer  view  of  the  inmost  thoughts  of  his  friend 
than  he  had  been  able  to  discern  before ;  for  war,  or  Brace's 
own  interests,  having  particularly  engaged  them  in  all  their 
former  conversations,  Wallace  had  never  been  induced  to 
glance  at-  the  private  circumstances  of  his  history.  While 
Bruce  sighed  in  tender  pity  for  the  captivated  heart  of  Helen, 
he  the  more  deeply  revered,  more  intensely  loved  his  suffering 
and  heroic  friend. 

A  few  hours  brought  the  royal  escort  to  the  Louvre,  and, 
through  a  train  of  nobles,  Lady  Helen  was  led  by  Prince 
Louis  into  the  regal  saloon.  The  Scottish  chiefs  followed. 
The  queen  and  the  Count  D'Evereux  received  Bruce  and 
Helen,  while  De  Valois  conducted  Wallace  to  the  king,  who 
had  retired,  for  the  purpose  of  this  conference,  to  his  closet. 

At  sight  of  the  armor  which  he  had  sent  to  the  preserver  of 
his  son,  Philip  instantly  recognized  the  Scottish  hero,  and, 
rising  from  his  seat,  hastened  forward  and  clasped  him  in  his 
arms.  "Wonder  not,  august  chief,"  exclaimed  he,  "  at  the 
weakness  exhibited  in  these  eyes  !  It  is  the  tribute  of  nature 
to  a  virtue  which  loads  even  kings  with  benefits.  You  have 
saved  my  son's  life,  you  have  preserved  from  taint  the  honor 
of  my  sister."  Philip  then  proceeded  to  inform  his  auditor 


188  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

that  he  had  heard  from  a  confessor  of  Queen  Margaret's,  just 
arrived  from  England,  all  that  had  lately  happened  at  Edward's 
court,  and  of  Wallace's  letter  to  clear  the  innocence  of  that 
injured  princess.  "  She  is  perfectly  reinstated  in  the  king's 
confidence,"  added  Philip,  "  but  I  can  never  pardon  the  infamy 
with  which  he  would  have  overwhelmed  her ;  nay,  it  has 
already  dishonored  her,  for  the  blasting  effects  of  slander  no 
time  nor  labor  can  erase.  I  yield  to  the  prayers  of  my  too 
gentle  sister  not  to  resent  this  wrong  openly,  but  in  private 
he  shall  feel  a  brother's  indignation.  I  do  not  declare  war 
against  him,  but  ask  what  you  will,  bravest  of  men,  and  were 
it  to  place  the  crown  of  Scotland  on  your  head,  demand  it  of 
me  and  by  concealed  agency  it  shall  be  effected."  The  reply 
of  Wallace  was  simple.  He  claimed  no  merit  in  the  justice 
he  had  done  the  Queen  of  England,  neither  in  his  rescue  of 
Prince  Louis ;  but  as  a  proof  of  King  Philip's  friendship  he 
gladly  embraced  his  offered  services  with  regard  to  Scot- 
land. "  Not,"  added  he,  "  to  send  troops  into  that  country 
against  England.  Scotland  is  now  free  of  its  Southron  invad- 
ers ;  all  I  require  is  that  you  will  use  your  royal  influence 
with  Edward  to  allow  it  to  remain  so.  Pledge  your  faith, 
most  gracious  monarch,  with  my  master,  the  royally  descended 
Bruce,  who  is  now  in  your  palace.  He  will  soon  assume  the 
crown  that  is  his  right,  and  with  such  an  ally  as  France  to 
hold  the  ambition  of  Edward  in  check,  we  may  certainly  hope 
that  the  bloody  feuds  between  Scotland  and  England  may  at 
last  be  laid  at  rest." 

Wallace  explained  to  Philip  the  dispositions  of  the  Scots, 
the  nature  of  Brace's  claims,  and  the  transcendent  virtues  of 
his  youthful  character.  The  monarch  took  fire  at  the  speaker's 
enthusiasm,  and  giving  him  his  hand,  exclaimed,  "Wallace,  I 
know  not  what  manner  of  man  you  are  !  You  seem  born  to 
dictate  to  kings,  while  you  put  aside  as  things  of  no  moment 
the  crowns  offered  to  yourself.  You  are  young,  and,  marvelling 
I  would  say,  without  ambition,  did  I  not  know  that  your  deeds 
:md  your  virtues  have  set  you  above  all  earthly  titles.  But  to 
convince  me  that  you  do  not  disdain  the  gratitude  we  pay,  at 
least  accept  a  name  in  my  country,  and  know  that  the  armor 
you  wear,  the  coronet  around  your  helmet,  invested  you  with 
the  rank  of  a  prince  of  France,  and  the  title  of  Count  of 
Gascony."  !  To  have  refused  this  mark  of  the  monarch's  esteem 

1  Blindc  Harrie,  a  writer  almost  contemporary  with  my  hero,  is  the  authority  for  this 
investiture.  He  comprehends  in  the  province  with  which  Philip  endowed  Wallace  both 
Guienne  and  Gascony.  But  the  division  made  hore  is  more  consonant  with  history. 


PARIS.  189 

would  have  been  an  act  of  churlish  pride,  foreign  from  the 
character  of  Wallace.  He  graciously  accepted  the  offered  dis- 
tinction, and  bowing  his  head,  allowed  the  king  to  throw  the 
brilliant  collar  of  Gascony  over  his  neck. 

This  act  was  performed  by  Philip  with  all  the  emotions  of 
disinterested  esteem.  But  when  he  had  proposed  it  to  his 
brother  D'Evereux,  as  the  only  way  he  could  devise  of  reward- 
ing Wallace  for  the  preservation  of  his  son  and  the  honor  of 
their  sister,  he  was  obliged  to  urge  in  support  of  his  wish  the 
desire  he  had  to  take  the  first  opportunity  of  being  revenged 
on  Edward  by  the  reseizure  of  Guienne.  To  have  Sir  William 
Wallace  Lord  of  Gascony  would  then  be  of  the  greatest  advan- 
tage, as  no  doubt  could  be  entertained  of  his  arms  soon 
restoring  the  sister  province  to  the  French  monarchy.  In 
such  a  case  Philip  promised  to  bestow  Guienne  on  his  brother 
D'Evereux. 

To  attach  his  new  count  to  France  was  now  all  the  wish  of 
Philip,  and  he  closed  the  conference  with  every  expression  of 
friendship  which  man  could  deliver  to  man.  Wallace  lost  not 
the  opportunity  of  pleading  for  the  abdicated  King  of  Scots, 
and  Philip,  eager  as  well  to  evince  his  resentment  to  Edward 
as  to  oblige  Wallace,  promised  to  send  immediate  orders  to 
Normandy  that  De  Valence  should  leave  Chateau  Galliard,  and 
Baliol  be  attended  with  his  former  state. 

The  king  then  led  his  guest  into  the  royal  saloon,  where 
they  found  the  queen  seated  between  Bruce  and  Helen.  At 
sight  of  the  Scottish  chief  her  majesty  rose.  Philip  led  him 
up  to  her,  and  Wallace,  bending  his  knee,  put  the  fair  hand 
she  extended  to  his  lips.  "  Welcome,"  said  she,  "  bravest  of 
knights,  receive  a  mother's  thanks."  Tears  of  gratitude  stood 
in  her  eyes.  She  clasped  the  hand  of  her  son  and  his  together, 
and  added,  "  Louis,  wherever  our  Count  of  Gascony  advises 
you  to  pledge  this  hand,  give  it."  —  "  Then  it  will  follow  mine," 
cried  the  king,  putting  his  into  that  of  Bruce.  "You  are 
Wallace's  acknowledged  sovereign,  young  prince,  and  you  shall 
ever  find  brothers  in  me  and  my  son.  Sweet  lady,"  added 
he,  turning  to  the  glowing  Helen,  "  thanks  to  your  charms  for 
having  drawn  this  friend  of  mankind  to  bless  our  shores." 

The  court  knew  Wallace  merely  as  Count  of  Gascony,  and 
to  preserve  an  equal  concealment,  Bruce  assumed  the  name  of 
the  young  De  Longueville,  whom  Prince  Louis  had,  in  fact, 
allowed  to  leave  him  on  the  road  to  Paris  to  retire  to  Chartres, 
there  to  pass  a  year  of  mourning  within  its  penitential  monas- 
tery. Only  two  persons  ever  came  to  the  Louvre  who  could 


190  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

recognize  Bruce  to  be  other  than  he  seemed,  and  they  were 
John  Cummin,  the  elder  twin  brother  of  the  present  regent  of 
Scotland,  and  James  Lord  Douglas.  The  former  had  remained 
in  France  out  of  dislike  to  his  brother's  proceedings,  and  as 
Bruce  knew  him  in  Guienne,  and  believed  him  to  be  a  blunt, 
well-meaning  young  man,  he  saw  no  danger  in  trusting  him. 
The  brave  son  of  William  Douglas  was  altogether  of  a  nobler 
mettle,  and  both  Wallace  and  his  prince  rejoiced  at  the  pros- 
pect of  receiving  him  to  their  friendship. 

Philip  opened  the  affair  to  the  two  lords,  and  having  de- 
clared his  designs  in  favor  of  Bruce,  conducted  them  into  the 
queen's  room,  and  pointing  where  he  stood,  "  There,"  cried 
he,  "is  the  King  of  Scotland."  Douglas  and  Cummin  would 
have  bent  their  knees  to  their  young  monarch,  but  Bruce 
hastily  caught,  their  hands  and  prevented  them.  "  My 
friends,"  said  he,  "  regard  me  as  your  fellow-soldier  only  till 
you  see  me  on  the  throne  of  my  fathers.  Till  then  that  is  our 
prince,"  added  he,  looking  on  Wallace  ;  "  he  is  my  leader,  my 
counsellor,  my  example;  and  if  you  love  me,  he  must  be 
yours."  Douglas  and  Cummin  turned  towards  Wallace  at 
these  words.  Royalty  did  indeed  sit  on  his  brow,  but  with  a 
tempered  majesty  which  spoke  only  in  love  and  honor.  From 
the  resplendent  countenance  of  Bruce  it  smiled  and  threat- 
ened, for  the  blaze  of  his  impassioned  nature  was  not  yet 
subdued.  The  queen  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other.  The 
divinely  composed  air  of  Wallace  seemed  to  her  the  celestial 
port  of  some  heaven-descended  being,  lent  awhile  to  earth  to 
guide  the  steps  of  the  Prince  of  Scotland.  She  had  read  in 
Homer's  song  of  the  deity  of  wisdom  assuming  the  form  of 
Mentor  to  protect  the  son  of  Ulysses,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  youth  of  the  Scottish  chief,  she  would  have  said,  "  Here 
is  the  realization  of  the  tale." 

Helen  had  eyes  for  none  but  Wallace.  Nobles,  princes,  kings, 
were  all  involved  in  one  uninteresting  mass  to  her  when  he 
was  present.  Yet  she  smiled  on  Douglas  when  she  heard  him 
express  his  gratitude  to  the  champion  of  Scotland  for  the  serv- 
ices he  had  done  a  country  for  which  his  own  father  had  died. 
Cummin,  when  he  paid  his  respects  to  Wallace,  told  him  that 
he  did  so  with  double  pleasure,  since  he  had  two  unquestion- 
able evidences  of  his  unequalled  merit :  the  confidence  of  his 
father,  the  Lord  Badenoch,  and  the  hatred  of  his  brother,  the 
present  usurper  of  that  title. 

The  king  soon  after  led  his  guests  to  the  council-room,  where 
a  secret  cabinet  was  held  to  settle  the  future  bonds  between 


THE    LOUVRE.  .  191 

the  two  kingdoms,  and  Helen,  looking  long  after  the  depart- 
ing figure  of  Wallace,  with  a  pensive  step  followed  the  queen 
to  her  apartment. 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

THE    LOUVRE. 

THESE  preliminaries  of  lasting  friendship  being  arranged 
and  sworn  to  by  Philip,  Wallace  despatched  a  messenger  to 
Scotland  to  Lord  Kuthven  at  Hunting-tower,  informing  him  of 
the  present  happy  dispositions  with  regard  to  Scotland.  He 
made  particular  inquiries  respecting  the  state  of  the  public 
mind,  and  declared  his  intentions  not  to  introduce  Bruce 
amongst  the  cabals  of  his  chieftains  until  he  knew  exactly 
how  they  were  all  disposed.  Some  weeks  passed  before  a 
reply  to  this  letter  arrived.  During  the  time,  the  health  of 
Helen,  which  had  been  much  impaired  by  the  sufferings  in- 
flicted on  her  by  De  Valence,  gradually  recovered,  and  her 
beauty  became  as  much  the  admiration  of  the  French  nobles 
as  her  meek  dignity  was  of  their  respect.  A  new  scene  of 
royalty  presented  itself  in  this  gay  court  to  Wallace,  for  all 
was  pageant  and  chivalric  gallantry ;  but  it  had  no  other 
effect  on  him  than  that  of  exciting  those  benevolent  affec- 
tions which  rejoiced  in  the  innocent  gayeties  of  his  fellow- 
beings.  His  gravity  was  not  that  of  a  cynic.  Though  hilarity 
never  awakened  his  mind  to  buoyant  mirth,  yet  he  loved  to 
see  it  in  others,  and  gently  smiled  when  others  laughed. 

With  a  natural  superiority  which  looked  over  these  court 
pastimes  to  objects  of  greater  moment,  Bruce  merely  endured 
them,  but  it  was  with  an  urbanity  congenial  with  his  friend's  ; 
and  while  the  princes  of  France  were  treading  the.  giddy 
mazes  of  the  dance  or  tilting  at  each  other  in  the  mimic  war 
of  the  tournament,  the  Prince  of  Scotland,  who  excelled  in  all 
these  exercises,  left  .the  field  of  gallantry  undisputed,  and 
moved  an  uninterested  spectator  in  the  splendid  scene,  talking 
with  Wallace  or  Helen  on  events  which  yet  lay  in  fate,  and 
whose  theatre  would  be  the  field  of  his  native  land.  So  accus- 
tomed had  the  friends  now  been  to  share  their  thoughts  with 
Lady  Helen  that  they  imparted  to  her  their  plans,  and  listened 
with  pleasure  to  her  timid,  yet  judicious,  remarks.  Her  soul 
was  inspired  with  the  same  zeal  for  Scotland  which  animated 


192  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

their  own  breasts ;  like  Brace's,  it  was  ardent,  but  like 
Wallace's,  it  was  tempered  with  a  moderation  which,  giving 
her  foresight,  freed  her  opinion  from  the  hazard  of  rashness. 
What  he  possessed  by  the  suggestions  of  genius,  or  had 
acquired  by  experience,  she  learnt  from  love.  It  taught  her  to 
be  careful  for  the  safety  of  Wallace,  and  while  she  saw  that 
nis  life  must  often  be  put  in  peril  for  Scotland,  her  watchful 
spirit,  with  an  eagle's  ken,  perceived  and  gave  warning 
where  his  exposure  might  incur  danger  without  adequa.te 
advantage. 

The  winds  of  this  season  of  the  year  being  violent  and  often 
adverse,  Wallace's  messenger  did  not  arrive  at  his  destined 
port  in  Scotland  till  the  middle  of  November,  and  the  January 
of  1299  had  commenced  before  his  returning  bark  entered 
the  mouth  of  the  Seine. 

Wallace  was  alone,  when  Grimsby,  opening  the  door,  an- 
nounced Sir  Edwin  Ruthven.  In  a  moment  the  friends  were 
locked  in  each  other's  arms.  Edwin,  straining  Wallace  to  his 
heart,  reproached  him  in  affectionate  terms  for  having  left  him 
behind ;  but  while  he  spoke  joy  shone  through  the  tears  which 
hung  on  his  eyelids,  and  with  the  smiles  of  fraternal  love, 
again  and  again  he  kissed  his  friend's  hand  and  pressed  it  to 
his  bosom.  Wallace  answered  his  glad  emotions  with  similar 
demonstrations  of  affection,  and  when  the  agitations  of  their 
meeting  were  subdued,  he  learnt  from  Edwin  that  he  had  left 
the  messenger  at  some  distance  on  the  road,  so  impatient  was 
he  to  embrace  his  friend  again  and  to  congratulate  his  dear 
cousin  on  her  escape. 

Edwin  answered  the  anxious  inquiries  of  Wallace  respect- 
ing his  country  by  informing  him  that  Badenoch,  having 
arrogated  to  himself  the  supreme  power  in  Scotland,  had  deter- 
mined to  take  every  advantage  of  the  last  victory  gained  over 
King  Edward.  In  this  resolution  he  was  supported  by  the 
Lords  Athol,  Buchan,  and  Soulis,  who  were  returned  full  of 
indignation  from  the  court  of  Durham.  Edward  removed  to 
London,  and  Badenoch,  soon  hearing  that  he  was  preparing 
other  armies  for  the  subjugation  of  Scotland,  sent  ambassa- 
dors to  the  Vatican  to  solicit  the  Pope's  interference.  Flat- 
tered by  this  appeal,  Boniface  wrote  a  letter  to  Edward 
exhorting  him  to  refrain  from  further  oppressing  a  country 
over  which  he  had  no  lawful  power.  Edward's  answer  was 
full  of  artifice  and  falsehood,  maintaining  his  pretensions  to 
Scotland  by  the  abandonment  of  every  good  principle,  and 
declaring  his  determination  to  consolidate  Great  Britain  into 


THE    LOUVRE.  193 

one  kingdom,  or  to  make  the  northern  part  one  universal 
grave.1  Wallace  sighed  as  he  listened.  "Ah,  my  dear  Ed- 
win," said  he,  "  how  just  is  the  observation,  that  the  almost 
to^al  neglect  of  truth  and  justice  which  the  generality  of. 
statesmen  discover  in  their  transactions  with  each  other  is  as 
unaccountable  to  reason  as  it  is  dishonorable  and  ruinous  !  It 
is  one  source  of  the  misery  of  the  human  race  —  a  misery  in 
which  millions  are  involved  without  any  compensation,  for  it 
seldom  happens  that  this  dishonesty  contributes  ultimately 
even  to  the  interests  of  the  princes  who  thus  basely  sacrifice 
their  integrity  to  their  ambition.  But  proceed,  my  friend." 

"  The  speedy  consequence  of  this  correspondence,"  Edwin 
continued,  "  was  a  renewal  of  hostilities  against  Scotland. 
Badenoch  took  Sir  Simon  Eraser  as  his  colleague  in  military 
duty,  and  a  stout  resistance  for  a  little  while  was  made  on  the 
borders;  but  Berwick  soon  became  the  prey  of  Lord  Percy, 
and  the  brave  Lord  Dundaff  was  killed  defending  the  citadel. 
Many  other  places  fell,  and  battles  were  fought  in  which  the 
English  were  everywhere  victorious ;  for,"  added  Edwin,  "  none 
of  your  generals  would  draw  a  sword  under  the  command  of 
Badenoch,  and,  alarmed  at  these  disasters,  the  Bishop  of 
Dunkeld  is  gone  to  Rome  to  entreat  the  Pope  to  order  your 
return.  The  Southrons  are  advancing  into  Scotland  in  every 
direction.  They  have  landed  again  on  the  eastern  coast,  they 
have  possessed  themselves  of  all  the  border  counties,  and 
without  your  Heaven-anointed  arm  to  avert  the  blow  our  coun- 
try must  be  irretrievably  lost. 

Edwin  had  brought  letters  from  Ruthven  and. the  young 
Earl  of  Bothwell,  which  more  particularly  narrated  these 
ruinous  events,  to  enforce  every  argument  to  Wallace  for  his 
return.  They  gave  it  as  their  opinion,  however,  that  he  must 
revisit  Scotland  under  an  assumed  name.  Did  he  come  openly 
the  jealousy  of  the  Scottish  lords  would  be  reawakened  and 
the  worst  of  them  might  put  a  finishing  stroke  to  their  country 
by  taking  him  off  by  assassination  or  poison.  Ruthven  and 
Bothwell,  therefore,  entreated  that,  as  it  was  his  wisdom  as 
well  as  his  valor  their  country  required,  he  would  hasten  to 
Scotland  and  condescend  to  serve  her  unrecognized  till  Bruce 
should  be  established  on  the  throne. 

While  Edwin  was  conducted  to  the  apartments  of  Lady 
Helen,  Wallace  took  these  letters  to  his  prince.  On  Bruce 
being  informed  of  the  circumstances  in  which  his  country  lay, 
and  of  the  wishes  of  its  most  virtuous  chiefs  for  his  accession 

1  Both  these  curious  letters  arc  extant  in  Ilolingahed. 
VOL.  II.  — 13 


194  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

to  the  crown,  he  assented  to  the  prudence  of  their  advice  with 
regard  to  Wallace.  "But,"  added  he,  "our  fortunes  must  be 
in  every  respect,  as  far  as  we  can  mould  them,  the  same. 
While  you  are  to  serve  Scotland  under  a  cloud,  so  will  I.  At 
the  moment  Bruce  is  proclaimed  King  of  Scotland,  Wallace 
shall  be  declared  its  bravest  friend.  We  will  go  together,  as 
brothers,  if  you  will,"  continued  he.  "  I  am  already  considered 
by  the  French  nobility  as  Thomas  de  Longueville  ;  you  may 
personate  the  Red  Reaver.  Scotland  does  not  yet  know  that 
he  was  slain,  and  the  reputation  of  his  valor  and  a  certain 
nobleness  in  his  wild  warfare  having  placed  him  in  the  esti- 
mation of  our  shores  rather  in  the  light  of  one  of  their  own 
island  Sea-kings  than  in  that  of  his  real  character,  — a  gallant 
though  fierce  pirate,  —  the  aid  of  his  name  would  bring  no  evil 
odor  to  our  joint  appearance.  But  were  you  to  wear  the  title 
you  bear  here,  a  quarrel  might  ensue  between  Philip  and 
Edward,  which  I  perceive  the  former  is  not  willing  should 
occur  openly.  Edward  must  deem  it  a  breach  of  their  amity, 
did  his  brother-in-law  permit  a  French  prince  to  appear  in 
arms  against  him  in  Scotland.  But  the  Reaver  being  consid- 
ered in  England  as  outlawed  by  France,  no  surprise  can  be 
excited  that  he  and  his  brother  should  fight  against  Philip's 
ally.  We  will  then  assume  their  characters,  and  I  shall  have 
the  satisfaction  of  serving  for  Scotland  before  I  claim  her  as 
my  own.  When  we  again  drive  Edward  over  the  borders,  on 
that  day  we  will  throw  off  our  visors,  and  Sir  William  Wallace 
shall  place  the  crown  on  my  head." 

Wallace  .could  not  but  approve  the  dignity  of  mind  which 
these  sentiments  displayed.  In  the  same  situation  they  would 
have  been  his  own,  and  he  sought  not,  from  any  motive  of 
policy,  to  dissuade  Bruce  from  a  delicacy  of  conduct  which, 
drew  him  closer  to  his  heart.  Sympathy  of  tastes  is  a  pleasing 
attraction,  but  congeniality  of  principles  is  the  cement  of 
souls.  This  Wallace  felt  in  his  new-born  friendship  with 
Bruce,  and  though  his  regard  for  him  had  none  of  that  foster- 
ing tenderness  with  which  he  loved  to  contemplate  the  blooming 
virtues  of  the  youthful  Edwin,  yet  it  breathed  every  endear- 
ment arising  from  a  perfect  equality  in  heart  and  mind.  It 
was  the  true  fraternal  tie ;  and  while  he  talked  with  him  on 
the  fulfilment  of  their  enterprise,  he  inwardly  thanked  Heaven 
for  blessing  him  so  abundantly.  He  had  found  a  son  in  Edwin, 
a  brother  and  a  tender  sister  in  the  noble  Bruce  and  lovely 
Helen. 

Bruce  received  Edwin  with  a  welcome  which  convinced  the 


THE   LOUVRE.  195 

before  anxious  youth  that  he  met  a  friend,  rather  than  a 
rival,  in  the  heart  of  Wallace.  And  every  preliminary  being 
settled  by  the  three  friends  respecting  their  immediate  return 
to  Scotland,  they  repaired  to  Philip  to  inform  him  of  Lord 
Ruthven's  despatches,  and  their  consequent  resolutions. 

The  king  liked  all  they  said,  excepting  their  request  to  be 
permitted  to-  take  an  early  leave  of  his  court.  He  urged  them 
to  wait  the  return  of  a  second  ambassador  he  had  sent  to 
England.  Immediately  on  Wallace's  arrival,  Philip  had  de- 
spatched a  request  to  the  English  king  that  he  would  grant  the 
Scots  the  peace  which  was  their  right.  Not  receiving  any 
answer  he  sent  another  messenger  with  a  more  categori- 
cal demand.  The  persevered  hostilities  of  Edward  against 
Scotland  explained  the  delay.  But  the  king  yet  hoped  for  a 
favorable  reply,  and  made  such  entreaties  to  Bruce  and  his 
friend  to  remain  in  Paris  till  it  should  arrive  that  they  at  last 
granted  a  reluctant  consent. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  the  ambassador  returned  with  a  con- 
ciliatory letter  to  Philip,  but  affirming  Edward's  right  to 
Scotland,  declared  his  determination  never  to  lay  down  his 
arms  till  he  had  again  brought  the  whole  realm  under  his 
sceptre. 

Wallace  and  his  royal  friend  now  saw  no  reason  for  linger- 
ing in  France,  and  having  visited  the  young  De  Longueville 
at  Chartres,  they  apprised  him  of  their  intention  still  further  to 
borrow  his  name.  "  We  will  not  disgrace  it,"  cried  Bruce.  "I 
promise  to  return  it  to  you,  a  theme  for  your  country's  min- 
strels." l  When  the  friends  rose  to  depart,  the  brave  and 
youthful  penitent  grasped  their  hands.  "  You  go,  valiant  Scots, 
to  cover  with  a  double  glory  in  the  field  of  honor  a  name  which 
my  unhappy  brother  Guy  dyed  deep  in  his  own  country's 
blood.  The  tears  I  weep  before  this  cross  for  his  and  my 
transgressions  have  obtained  me  mercy,  and  your  design  is  an 
earnest  to  me  from  him  who  hung  on  this  sacred  tree,  that 
my  brother  also  is  forgiven. 

At  an  early  hour  next  day  Wallace  and  Bruce  took  leave  of 
the  French  king.  The  queen  kissed  Helen  affectionately,  and 
whispered,  while  she  tied  a  jewelled  collar  round  her  neck,  that 
when  she  returned  she  hoped  to  add  to  it  the  coronet  of 
Gascony.  Helen's  only  reply  was  a  sigh,  and  her  eye  turned 
unconsciously  on  Wallace.  He  was  clad  in  a  plain  chain  suit 
of  black  armor,  with  a  red  plume  in  his  helmet,  the  ensign  of 

1  The  old  poem  of  Barbour's  "  Bruce  "  is  full  of  the  gallant  name  of  Thomas  de  Longue. 
ville,  as  a  trusty  partisan  of  the  patriot  cause  ill  Scotland. 


196  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  Reaver  whose  name  he  had  assumed.  All  of  his  former 
habit  that  he  now  wore  about  him  was  the  sword  which  he  had 
taken  from  Edward.  At  the  moment  Helen  looked  towards 
Wallace,  Prince  Louis  was  placing  a  cross-hilted  dagger  in  his 
girdle.  "  My  deliverer,"  said  he,  "  wear  this  for  the  sake  of 
the  descendant  of  St.  Louis.  It  accompanied  that  holy  king 
through  all  his  wars  in  Palestine.  It  twice  saved  him  from 
the  assassin's  steel,  and  I  pray  Heaven  it  may  prove  as  faith- 
ful to  you."  l 

Soon  after  this,  Douglas  and  Cummin  entered  to  pay  their 
parting  respects  to  the  king ;  and  that  over,  Wallace,  taking 
Helen  by  the  hand,  led  her  forth,  followed  by  Bruce  and  his 
friends. 

At  Havre  they  embarked  for  the  frith  of  Tay,  and  a  favor- 
able gale  driving  them  through  the  straits  of  Calais,  they 
launched  out  into  the  wide  ocean. 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 


SCOTLAND. 

THE  eighth  morning  from  the  day  in  which  the  Red  Reaver's 
ship  was  relaunched  from  the  Norman  harbor,  Wallace,  now 
the  representative  of  that  once  formidable  pirate,  bearing  the 
white  flag  of  good  faith,  entered  between  the  castled  shores  of 
the  frith  of  Tay  and  cast  anchor  under  the  towers  of  Dundee. 

When  Bruce  leaped  upon  the  beach,  he  turned  to  Wallace 
and  said  with  exultation,  though  in  a  low  voice,  "  Scotland  now 
receives  her  king.  This  earth  shall  cover  me,  or  support  my 
throne."  —  "  It  shall  support  your  throne  and  bless  it  too," 
replied  Wallace;  "you  are  come  in  the  power  of  justice,  and 
that  is  the  power  of  God.  I  know  Him  in  whom  I  bid  you 
confide,  for  He  has  been  my  shield  and  sword,  and  never  yet 
have  I  turned  my  back  upon  my  enemies.  Trust,  my  dear 
prince,  where  I  have  trusted,  and  while  virtue  is  your  incense 
you  need  not  doubt  the  issue  of  your  prayers."  Had  Wallace 
seen  the  face  of  Bruce  at  that  moment,  but  the  visor  concealed 
it,  he  would  have  beheld  an  answer  in  his  eloquent  eyes  which 
required  not  words  to  explain.  He  grasped  the  hand  of  Wal- 

1  The  author  was  shown  the  dagger  of  Wallace  by  a  friend.    It  was  of  very  strong 
but  simple  workmanship,  and  could  be  used  as  a  knife,  as  well  as  a  weapon. 


SCOTLAND.  197 

lace  with  fervor  and  briefly  replied,  "  Your  trust  shall  be  my 
trust." 

The  chiefs  did  not  stay  longer  at  Dundee  than  was  requisite 
to  furnish  them  with  horses  to  convey  them  to  Perth,  where 
Ruthven  still  bore  sway.  When  they  arrived  he  was  at  Hunt- 
ing-tower, and  thither  they  went.  The  meeting  was  fraught 
with  many  mingled  feelings.  Helen  had  not  seen  her  uncle 
since  the  death  of  her  father,  and  as  soon  as  the  first  gratula- 
tions  were  over  she  retired  to  an  apartment  to  weep  alone. 

On  Cummin's  being  presented  to  Lord  Kuthven,  the  earl 
told  him  he  must  now  salute  him  as  Lord  of  Badenoch,  his 
brother  having  been  killed  a  few  days  before  in  a  skirmish  on 
the  skirts  of  Ettrick  forest.  Ruthven  then  turned  to  welcome 
the  entrance  of  Bruce,  who,  raising  his  visor,  received  from  the 
loyal  chief  the  homage  due  to  his  sovereign  dignity.  Wallace 
and  the  prince  soon  engaged  him  in  a  discourse  immediately 
connected  with  the  design  of  their  return,  and  learnt  that  Scot- 
land did  indeed  require  the  royal  arm  and  the  counsel  of  its 
best,  and  lately  almost  banished,  friend.  Much  of  the  eastern 
part  of  the  country  was  again  in  the  possession  of  Edward's 
generals.  They  had  seized  on  every  castle  in  the  lowlands, 
none  having  been  considered  too  insignificant  to  escape  their 
hands.  Nor  could  the  quiet  of  reposing  age  elude  the  general 
devastation ;  and  after  a  dauntless  defence  of  his  castle,  the 
veteran  Knight  of  Thirlestane  had  fallen  and  with  him  his 
only  son.  On  hearing  this  disaster,  the  sage  of  Ercildown, 
having  meanwhile  protected  Lady  Isabella  Mar  at  Learmont, 
conveyed  her  northward,  but  falling  sick  at  Roslyn  he  had 
stopped  there.  And  the  messenger  he  despatched  to  Hunting- 
tower  with  these  calamitous  tidings  (who  happened  to  be  that 
brave  young  Gordon  whose  borrowed  breastplate  had  been 
that  of  B race's  in  his  first  battle  for  Scotland)  bore  also  infor- 
mation that  besides  several  parties  of  the  enemy,  which  were 
hovering  on  the  heights  near  Roslyn,  an  immense  army  was 
approaching  from  Northumberland.  Ercildown  said  he  under- 
stood Sir  Simon  Eraser  was  hastening  forward  with  a  small 
body  to  attempt  cutting  off  these  advanced  squadrons.  But  he 
added,  while  the  contentions  continued  between  Athol  and 
Soulis  for  the  vacant  regency,  no  man  could  have  hope  of  any 
steady  stand  against  England. 

At  this  communication,  Cummin  bluntly  proposed  himself 
as  the  terminator  of  this  dispute.  "  If  the  regency  were  al- 
lowed to  my  brother,  as  head  of  the  House  of  Cummin,  that 
dignity  now  rests  with  me;  give  the  word,  my  sovereign," 


198  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

said  he,  addressing  Bruce,  "  and  none  there  shall  dare  oppose 
my  rights."  Ruthven  approved  this  proposal,  and  Wallace, 
deeming  it  not  only  the  best  way  of  silencing  the  pretensions 
of  those  old  disturbers  of  the  public  tranquillity,  but  a  happy 
opportunity  of  putting  the  chief  magistracy  into  the  hands 
of  a  confidant  of  their  design,  seconded  the  advice  of  Ruth- 
ven. Thus  John  Cummin,  Lord  Badenoch,  was  invested  with 
the  regency,  and  immediately  despatched  to  the  army,  to 
assume  it  as  if  in  right  of  his  being  the  next  heir  to  the 
throne  in  default  of  the  Bruce. 

Wallace  sent  Lord  Douglas  privately  into  Clydesdale  to 
inform  Earl  Bothwell  of  his  arrival,  and  to  request  his  in- 
stant presence  with  the  Lanark  division  and  his  own  troops 
on  the  banks  of  the  Eske.  Ruthven  ascended  the  Grampians 
to  call  out  the  numerous  clans  of  Perthshire,  and  Wallace, 
with  his  prince,  prepared  themselves  for  meeting  these 
auxiliaries  before  the  towers  of  Roslyn.  Meanwhile,  as 
Hunting-tower  would  be  an  insecure  asylum  for  Helen  when 
it  must  be  left  to  domestics  alone,  Wallace  proposed  to  Edwin 
that  he  should  escort  his  cousin  to  Braemar  and  place  her 
there  under  the  care  of  his  mother  and  the  widowed  countess. 
"  Thither,"  continued  he,  "  we  will  send  Lady  Isabella  also, 
should  Heaven  bless  our  arms  at  Roslyn."  Edwin  acquiesced, 
as  he  was  to  return  with  all  speed  to  join  his  friend  on  the 
southern  bank  of  the  Forth,  and  Helen,  aware  that  fields  of 
blood  were  no  scenes  for  her,  while  her  heart  was  wrung  to 
agony  at  the  thought  of  relinquishing  Wallace  to  new  dangers, 
yielded  a  reluctant  assent  —  not  merely  to  go,  but  to  take  that 
look  of  him  which  might  be  the  last. 

The  sight  of  her  uncle  and  the  objects  around  had  so  re- 
called the  image  of  her  father  that  ever  since  her  arrival  a 
foreboding  sadness  had  hung  over  her  spirits.  She  remembered 
that  a  few  months  ago  she  had  seen  that  beloved  parent  go 
out  to  a  battle,  whence  he  never  returned.  Should  the  same 
doom  await  her  with  regard  to  Wallace !  The  idea  shook 
her  frame  with  an  agitation  that  sunk  her,  in  spite  of  herself, 
on  the  bosom  of  this  truest  of  friends,  when  Edwin  approached 
to  lead  her  to  her  horse.  Her  emotions  penetrated  the  heart 
against  which  she  leaned.  "  My  gentle  sister,"  said  Wallace, 
"  do  not  despair  of  our  final  success  —  of  the  safety  of  all  whom 
you  regard." — "Ah!  Wallace,"  faltered  she,  in  a  voice 
rendered  hardly  audible  by  tears,  "  but  did  I  not  lose  my 
father?" — "Sweet  Helen!"  returned  he,  tenderly  grasping 
her  trembling  handj  "you  lost  him,  but  he  gained  by  the 


ROSLYN.  199 

exchange ;  and  should  the  peace  of  Scotland  be  purchased  by 
the  lives  of  some  who  contend  for  her  emancipation,  should 
they  even  be  your  friends,  if  Bruce  survive  you  must  still 
think  your  prayers  blest.  Were  I  to  fall,  my  sister,  my  sor- 
rows would  be  over,  and  from  the  region  of  universal  blessed- 
ness I  should  enjoy  the  sight  of  Scotland's  happiness." 

"  Were  we  all  to  enter  those  regions  at  one  time,"  faintly 
replied  Helen,  "there  would  be  a  comfort  in  such  thoughts, 
but  as  it  is  "  —  here  she  paused,  tears  stopped  her  utterance. 
"  A  few  years  is  a  short  separation,"  returned  Wallace,  "  when 
we  are  hereafter  to  be  united  to  all  eternity.  This  is  my 
consolation  when  I  think  of  Marion,  when  memory  dwells 
with  the  friends  lost  in  these  dreadful,  conflicts;  and  what- 
ever may  be  the  fate  of  those  who  now  survive,  call  to 
remembrance  my  words,  dear  Helen,  and  the  God  who  was  my 
instructor  will  send  you  comfort." 

"  Then  farewell,  my  friend,  my  brother ! "  cried  she,  forcibly 
tearing  herself  away  and  throwing  herself  into  the  arms  of 
Edwin ;  "  leave  me  now,  and  the  angel  of  the  just  will  bring 
you  in  glory  here  or  hereafter  to  your  sister  Helen."  Wallace 
fervently  kissed  the.  hand  she  again  extended  to  him,  and 
with  an  emotion  which  he  had  thought  he  should  never  feel 
again  for  mortal  woman,  left  the  apartment. 


CHAPTER   LXVIII. 

ROSLYN. 

THE  day  after  the  departure  of  Helen,  Bruce  became  impa- 
tient to  take  the  field,  and  to  indulge  this  laudable  eagerness, 
Wallace  set  forth  with  him  to  meet  the  returning  steps  of 
Ruthven  and  his  gathered  legions. 

Having  passed  along  the  romantic  borders  of  Invermay,  the 
friends  descended  towards  the  precipitous  banks  of  the  Earn, 
at  the  foot  of  the  Grampians.  In  these  green  labyrinths  they 
wound  their  way  till  Bruce,  who  had  never  before  been  in  such 
mountain  wilds,  expressed  a  fear  that  Wallace  had  mistaken 
the  track,  for  this  seemed  far  from  any  human  footstep. 

Wallace  replied  with  a  smile,  "  The  path  is  familiar  to  me 
as  the  garden  of  Hunting-tower." 

The  day,  which  had  been  cloudy,  suddenly  turned  to  wind 
and  rain,  which  certainly  spread  an  air  of  desolation  over  the 


200  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

scene  very  dreary  to  an  eye  accustomed  to  the  fertile  plains 
and  azure  skies  of  the  south.  The  whole  of  the  road  was 
rough,  dangerous,  and  dreadful.  The  steep  and  black  rocks, 
towering  above  their  heads,  seemed  to  threaten  the  precipitation 
of  their  impending  masses  into  the  path  below.  But  Wallace 
had  told  Bruce  they  were  in  the  right  track,  and  he  gayly 
breasted  both  the  storm  and  the  perils  of  the  road.  They 
ascended  a  mountain  whose  enormous  piles  of  granite,  torn  by 
many  a  winter  tempest,  projected  their  barren  summits  from 
a  surface  of  moor-land,  on  which  lay  a  deep  incrustation  of 
snow.  The  blast  now  blew  a  tempest,  and  the  rain  and  sleet 
beat  so  hard  that  Bruce,  laughing,  declared  he  believed  the 
witches  of  his  country  were  in  league  with  Edward,  and,  hid 
in  shrouds  of  mist,  were  all  assembled  here  to  drive  their  law- 
ful prince  into  the  roaring  cataracts  beneath. 

Thus  enveloped  in  a  sea  of  vapors,  with  torrents  of  water 
pouring  down  the  sides  of  their  armor,  did  the  friends  descend 
the  western  brow  of  this  part  of  the  Grampians,  until  they 
approached  Loch  Earn.  They  had  hardly  arrived  there  before 
the  rain  ceased,  and  the  clouds  rolling  away  from  the  sides  of 
the  mountains,  discovered  the  vast  and  precipitous  Ben  Vor- 
lich.  Its  base  was  covered  with  huge  masses  of  cliffs  scattered 
in  fragments  like  the  wreck  of  some  rocky  world,  and  spread 
abroad  in  wide  and  horrid  desolation.  The  mountain  itself, 
the  highest  in  this  chain  of  the  Grampians,  was  in  every  part 
marked  by  deep  and  black  ravines,  made  by  the  rushing 
waters  in  the  time  of  floods  ;  but  where  its  blue  head  mingled 
with  the  clouds  a  stream  of  brightness  issued  that  seemed  to 
promise  the  dispersion  of  its  vapors,  and  consequently  a  more 
secure  path  for  Wallace,  to  lead  his  friend  over  its  perilous 
heights.1 

This  appearance  did  not  deceive.  The  whole  mantle  of 
clouds,  with  which  the  tops  of  all  the  mountains  had  been 
obscured,  rolled  away  towards  the  west,  and  discovered  to 
the  eye  of  Wallace  that  this  line  of  light  which  he  had  dis- 
cerned through  the  mist  was  the  host  of  Ruthven  descending 
Ben  Vorlich  in  defiles.  From  the  nature  of  the  path  they 
were  obliged  to  move  in  a  winding  direction,  and  as  the  sun 
now  shone  full  upon  their  arms,  and  their  lengthened  lines 
gradually  extended  from  the  summit  of  the  mountain  to  its 

1  This  description  of  Ben  Vorlich,  written  ten  years  before  the  journey  of  the  author's 
brother,  Sir  R.  K.  Porter,  into  Armenia  and  Persia,  on  her  reperusing  it  now,  while 
revising  these  volumes,  reminds  her  strongly  of  his  account  of  the  appearance  of  Mount 
Ararat,  as  he  saw  it  under  a  storm,  and  which  he  describes  with  so  much,  she  must  be 
allowed  to  say,  sacred  interest  in  his  travels  through  those  countries.  —  (1840.) 


ROSLYN.  201 

base,  no  sight  could  contain  more  of  the  sublime,  none  of 
truer  grandeur,  to  the  enraptured  mind  of  Bruce.  He  forgot 
his  horror  of  the  wastes  he  had  passed  over  in  the  joy  of 
beholding  so  noble  an  army  of  his  countrymen,  thus  approach- 
ing to  place  him  upon  the  throne  of  his  ancestors.  "  Wallace," 
cried  he,  "  these  brave  hearts  deserve  a  more  cheerful  home  I 
My  sceptre  must  turn  this  Scotia  deserta  into  Scotia  felix,  and 
so  shall  I  reward  the  service  they  this  day  bring  me."  —  "  They 
are  happy  in  these  wilds,"  returned  Wallace ;  "  their  flocks 
browse  the  hills,  their  herds  the  valleys.  The  soil  yields  suffi- 
cient to  support  its  sons,  and  their  luxuries  are  a  minstrel's 
song  and  the  lip  of  their  brides.  Their  ambition  is  satisfied 
with  following  their  chief  to  the  field,  and  their  honor  lies 
in  serving  their  God,  and  maintaining  the  freedom  of  their 
country.  Beware  then,  my  dear  prince,  of  changing  the  simple 
habits  of  those  virtuous  mountaineers.  Introduce  the  luxu- 
rious cultivation  of  France  into  these  tracts,  you  will  infect  them 
with  artificial  wants,  and  with  every  want  you  put  a  link  to 
a  chain  which  will  fasten  them  to  bondage  whenever  a  tyrant 
choose  to  grasp  it.  Leave  them,  then,  their  rocks  as  you  find 
them,  and  you  will  ever  have  a  hardy  race,  ready  to  perish  in 
their  defence,  or  to  meet  death  for  the  royal  guardian  of  their 
liberties." 

Lord  Ruthven  no  sooner  reached  the  banks  of  Loch  Earn 
than  he  espied  the  prince  and  Wallace.  He  joined  them; 
then  marshalling  his  men  in  a  wide  tract  of  land  at  the  head 
of  that  vast  body  of  water,  placed  himself  with  the  two  sup- 
posed De  Longuevilles  in  the  van,  and  in  this  array  marched 
through  the  valleys  of  Strathmore  and  Strathallan,  into  Stir- 
lingshire. The  young  Earl  of  Fife  held  the  government  of 
the  castle  and  town  of  Stirling,  and  as  he  had  been  a  zealous 
supporter  of  the  rebellious  Lord  Badenoch,  Bruce  negatived 
Ruthven's  proposal  to  send  in  a  messenger  for  the  earl's 
division  of  troops.  "No,  my  lord,"  said  he,  "like  my  friend 
Wallace,  I  will  have  no  divided  spirits  near  me ;  all  must  be 
earnest  in  my  cause,  or  entirely  out  of  the  contest.  I  am  con- 
tent with  the  brave  men  around  me." 

After  rapid  marches  and  short  haltings,  they  arrived  safe  at 
Linlithgow,  where  Wallace  proposed  staying  a  night  to  refresh 
the  troops,  who  were  now  joined  by  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay,  at 
the  head  of  a  thousand  of  his  clan.  While  the  men  took  rest, 
their  chiefs  waked  to  think  for  them,  and  Wallace,  with 
Bruce  and  Ruthven,  and  the  brave  Ramsay  (to  whom  Wallace 
had  revealed  himself,  but  still  kept  Bruce  unknown),  were  in 


202  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

deep  consultation,  when  Grimsby  entered  to  inform  his  master 
that  a  young  knight  desired  to  speak  with  Sir  Guy  de  Longue- 
ville.  "  His  name  ?  "  demanded  Wallace.  "  He  refused  to  tell 
it,"  replied  Grimsby,  "  and  wears  his  beaver  shut."  •  Wallace 
looked  around  with  a  glance  that  inquired  whether  the  stranger 
should  be  admitted.  "  Certainly,"  said  Bruce ;  "  but  first 
put  on  your  mask."  Wallace  closed  his  visor,  and  the  moment 
after  Grimsby  reentered  with  a  knight  of  elegant  mien,  hab- 
ited in  a  suit  of  green  armor  linked  with  gold.  He  wore  a  close 
helmet,  from  which  streamed  a  long  feather  of  the  same  hue. 
Wallace  rose  at  his  entrance ;  the  stranger  advanced  to  him. 
"  You  are  he  whom  I  seek.  I  am  a  Scot,  and  a  man  of  few 
words  ;  accept  my  services ;  allow  me  to  attend  you  in  this  war 
and  I  will  serve  you  faithfully."  Wallace  replied,  "  And  who 
is  the  brave  knight  to  whom  Sir  Guy  de  Longueville  must  owe 
so  great  an  obligation  ?  "-r- "  My  name,"  answered  the  stranger, 
"  shall  not  be  revealed  till  he  who  now  wears  that  of  the 
Reaver  proclaims  his  own  in  the  day  of  victory.  I  know  you, 
sir,  but  your  secret  is  as  safe  with  me  as  in  your  own  breast. 
Place  me  to  fight  by  your  side  and  I  am  yours  forever." 

Wallace  was  surprised,  but  not  confounded,  by  this  speech. 
"  I  have  only  one  question  to  ask  you,  noble  stranger,"  replied 
he,  "  before  I  confide  a  cause  dearer  to  me  than  life  in  your 
integrity.  How  did  you  become  master  of  a  secret  which  I 
believed  out  of  the  power  of  treachery  to  betray  ?  "  —  "  No  one 
betrayed  your  secret  to  me.  I  came  by  my  information  in  an 
honorable  manner,  but  the  means  I  shall  not  reveal  till  I  see 
the  time  to  declare  my  name,  and  that,  perhaps,  may  be  in 
the  moment  when  the  assumed  brother  of  yon  young  French- 
man," added  the  stranger,  turning  to  Bruce  and  lowering  his 
voice,  "again  appears  publicly  in  Scotland  as  Sir  William 
Wallace." 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  replied  he,  well  pleased  that,  whoever  this 
knight  might  be,  Bruce  yet  remained  undiscovered.  "I  grant 
your  request.  Yon  brave  youth,  whose  name  I  share,  forgives 
me  the  success  of  my  sword.  I  slew  the  Red  Reaver,  and, 
therefore,  would  restore  a  brother  to  Thomas  de  Longueville, 
in  myself.  He  fights  on  my  right  hand  ;  you  shall  be  stationed 
at  my  left."  —  "  On  the  side  next  your  heart ! "  exclaimed  the 
stranger ;  "  let  that  ever  be  my  post,  there  to  guard  the  bul- 
wark of  Scotland,  the  life  of  the  bravest  of  men." 

This  enthusiasm  did  not  surprise  any  present ;  it  was  the 
usual  language  of  all  who  approached  Sir  William  Wallace ; 
and  Bruce,  particularly  pleased  with  the  heartfelt  energy  with 


ROSLYN.  203 

which  it  was  uttered,  forgot  his  disguise,  in  the  amiable  fervor 
of  approbation,  and  half  arose  to  welcome  him  to  his  cause  ; 
but  a  look  from  Wallace  (who  on  being  known  had  uncovered 
his  face)  arrested  his  intention,  and  the  prince  sat  down 
again,  thankful  for  so  timely  a  check  on  his  precipitancy. 

In  passing  the  Pentland  Hills  into  Mid-Lothian,  the  chiefs 
were  met  by  Edwin,  who  had  crossed  from  the  north  by  the 
frith  of  Forth,  and  having  heard  no  tidings  of  the  Scottish* 
army  in  the  neighborhood  of  Edinburgh,  he  had  turned  to  meet 
it  on  the  most  probable  road.  Wallace  introduced  him  to  the 
Knight  of  the  Green  Plume,  for  that  was  the  appellation  by 
which  the  stranger  desired  to  be  known,  and  then  made  in- 
quiries how  Lady  Helen  had  borne  the  fatigues  of  her  journey 
to  Braemar.  "  Pretty  well  there,"  replied  he,  "  but  much  better 
back  again.'7  He  then  explained  that  on  h?s  arrival  with  her, 
neither  Lady  Mar  nor  his  mother  would  consent  to  remain  so 
far  from  the  spot  where  Wallace  was  to  contend  again  for  the 
safety  of  their  country.  Helen  did  not  say  anything  in  oppo- 
sition to  their  wishes,  and  at  last  Edwin  yielded  to  the  en- 
treaties and  tears  of  his  mother  and  aunt,  to  bring  them  to 
where  they  might  at  least  not  long  endure  the  misery  of  sus- 
pense. Having  consented,  without  an  hour's  delay  he  set 
forth  with  the  ladies  to  retrace  his  steps  to  Hunting-tower, 
and  there  he  left  them  under  a  guard  of  three  hundred  men, 
whom  he  brought  from  Braemar  for  that  purpose. 

Bruce,  whose  real  name  had  not  been  revealed  to  the  other 
ladies  of  Kuthven's  family,  in  a  lowered  voice  asked  Edwin 
some  questions  relative  to  the  spirits  in  which  Helen  had 
parted  with  him.  "  In  losing  her,"  added  he,  "  my  friend  and 
I  feel  but  as  part  of  what  we  were.  Her  presence  seemed 
to  ameliorate  the  fierceness  of  our  war-councils,  and  ever  re- 
minded me  of  the  angelic  guard  by  whom  Heaven  points  our 
way."  —  "  I  left  her  with  looks  like  the  angel  you  speak  of,"  an- 
swered Edwin  ;  "  she  bade  me  farewell  upon  the  platform  of  the 
eastern  tower  of  the  castle.  When  I  gave  her  the  parting  em- 
brace she  raised  herself  from  my  breast,  and  stretching  her 
arms  to  heaven,  with  her  pure  soul  in  her  eyes,  she  exclaimed, 
'  Bless  him,  gracious  God  !  bless  him  and  his  noble  commander ! 
May  they  ever,  with  the  prince  they  love,  be  thine  especial  care.' 
I  knelt  by  her  as  she  uttered  this,  and  touching  the  hem  of 
her  garments,  as  some  holy  thing,  hurried  from  the  spot."  — 
"  Her  prayers,"  cried  Bruce,  "  will  fight  for  us.  They  are 
arms  well  befitting  the  virgins  of  Scotland  to  use  against  its 
foes."  —  "  And  without  such  unction,"  rejoined  Wallace,  looking 


204  THE    SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

to  that  heaven  she  had  invoked,  "  the  warrior  may  draw  his 
steel  in  vain." 

On  Edwin's  introduction  the  stranger  knight  engaged  him- 
self in  conversation  with  Ramsay.  But  Lord  Ruthven  inter- 
rupted the  discourse  by  asking  Ramsay  some  questions 
relative  to  the  military  positions  on  the  banks  of  either  Eske. 
Sir  Alexander,  being  the  grandson  of  the  Lord  of  Roslyn,  and 
•having  passed  his  youth  in  its  neighborhood,  was  well  qualified 
to  answer  these  questions.  In  such  discourses  the  Scottish 
leaders  marched  along,  till,  passing  before  the  lofty  ridge  of 
the  Corstophine  Hills,  they  were  met  by  groups  of  flying 
peasantry.  At  sight  of  the  Scottish  banners  they  stopped, 
and  informed  their  armed  countrymen  that  the  new  regent, 
John  of  Badenoch,  having  rashly  attacked  the  Southron  army 
on  its  vantage  ground,  near  Borthwick  castle,  had  suffered 
defeat,  and  was  in  full  and  disordered  retreat  towards  Edin- 
burgh, while  the  country  people  fled  on  all  sides  before  the 
victors.  These  reporters  magnified  the  number  of  the  enemy 
to  an  incredible  amount. 

Wallace  was  at  no  loss  in  comprehending  how  much  to  be- 
lieve in  this  panic ;  but  determining,  whether  great  or  small 
the  power  of  his  adversary,  to  intercept  him  at  Roslyn,  he 
sent  to  Cummin  and  to  Eraser,  the  two  commanders  in  the 
beaten  and  dispersed  armies,  to  rendezvous  on  the  banks  of  the 
Eske.  The  brave  troops  which  he  led,  though  ignorant  of 
their  real  leader,  obeyed  his  directions,  under  an  idea  they 
were  Lord  Ruthven's,  who  was  their  ostensible  general,  and 
steadily  pursued  their  march.  Every  village  and  solitary  cot 
seemed  recently  deserted ;  and  through  an  awful  solitude  they 
took  their  rapid  way,  till  the  towers  of  Roslyn  castle  hailed 
them  as  a  beacon,  from  amidst  the  wooded  heights  of  the 
northern  Eske.  "  There,"  cried  Ramsay,  pointing  to  the  em- 
battled rock,  "  stands  the  fortress  of  my  forefathers  !  It  must 
this  day  be  made  famous  by  the  actions  performed  before  its 
walls." 

Wallace,  whose  knowledge  of  this  part  of  the  country  was 
not  quite  so  familiar  as  that  of  Ramsay,  learnt  sufficient  from 
him  to  decide  at  once  which  would  be  the  most  favorable  posi- 
tion for  a  small  and  resolute  band  to  assume  against  a  large 
and  conquering  army,  and,  accordingly  disposing  his  troops, 
which  did  not  amount  to  more  than  eight  thousand  men,  he 
despatched  one  thousand,  under  the  command  of  Ramsay, 
to  occupy  the  numerous  caves  in  the  southern  banks  of  the 
Eske,  whence  they  were  to  issue  in  various  divisions,  and  with 


ROSLYN.  205 

shouts,  on  the  first  appearance  of  advantage  either  on  his  side 
or  on  the  enemy's.1 

Ruthven,  meanwhile,  went  for  a  few  minutes  into  the  castle 
to  embrace  his  niece,  and  to  assure  the  venerable  Lord  ot 
Roslyn  that  assistance  approached  his  beleaguered  walls. 

Edwin,  who  with  Grimsby  had  volunteered  the  dangerous 
service  of  reconnoitring  the  enemy,  returned  within  an  hour 
bringing  a  straggler  from  the  English  camp.  His  life  was 
promised  him  on  condition  of  his  revealing  the  strength  of  the 
advancing  army.  The  terrified  wretch  did  not  hesitate,  and 
from  him  they  learnt  that  it  was  commanded  by  Sir  John 
Segrave  and  Ralph  Confrey,  who,  deeming  the  country  sub- 
dued by  the  two  last  battles  gained  over  the  Black  and  Red 
Cummins,2  were  preparing  for  a  general  plundering.  And,  to 
sweep  the  land  at  once,  Segrave  had  divided  his  army  into 
three  divisions,  to  scatter  themselves  over  the  country,  and 
everywhere  gather  in  the  spoil.  To  be  assured  of  this  being 
the  truth,  while  Grimsby  remained  to  guard  the  prisoner,  Edwin 
went  alone  into  the  track  he  was  told  the  Southrons  would 
take,  and  from  a  height  he  discerned  about  ten  thousand  of 
them  winding  along  the  valley.  With  this  confirmation  of  the 
man's  account  he  brought  him  to  the  Scottish  lines,  and  Wal- 
lace, who  well  knew  how  to  reap  advantage  from  the  errors  of 
his  enemies,  being  joined  by  Eraser  and  the  discomfited  regent, 
made  the  concerted  signal  to  Ruthven.  That  nobleman  im- 
mediately pointed  out  to  his  men  the  waving  colors  of  the 
Southron  host,  as  it  approached  beneath  the  overhanging  woods 
of  Hawthorndean.  He  exhorted  them  by  their  fathers,  wives, 
and  children  to  breast  the  enemy  at  this  spot,  to  grapple  with 
him  till  he  fell.  "  Scotland,"  cried  he,  "  is  lost  or  won  this 
day.  You  are  freemen  or  slaves,  your  families  are  your  own 
or  the  property  of  tyrants !  Eight  stoutly,  and  God  will  yield 
you  an  invisible  support." 

The  Scots  answered  their  general  by  a  shout,  and  calling  on 

1  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay,  who  was  surnamed  the  Flower  of  Courtliness,  is  celebrated  in 
history  as  a  brave  follower  of  Wallace,  and  these  caves,  which  are  still  visited  with  venera- 
tion by  every  true  Scot,  are  the  scenes  of  many  a  legend  respecting  the  prowess  of 
Ramsay,  when  he  issued  from  their  green  recesses,  to  assist  in  the  downfall  of  his 
country's  enemies.  More  of  this  distinguished  family  and  its  collateral  decendanta 
will  be  found  in  the  Appendix. 

1  The  Red  Cummin  was  an  attributive  appellation  of  John,  the  last  regent  before  the 
accession  of  Bruce.  His  father,  the  princely  Earl  of  Badenoch,  was  called  the  Black 
Cummin  (and  from  that  circumstance  I  so  surnamed  James,  the  turbulent  son  of  the 
good  Badenoch,  who  in  these  volumes  appears  the  predecessor  of  John  in  the  regency), 
but  for  why  they  received  these  Black  and  lied  epithets,  I  cannot  discover  any  satis- 
factory account.  Some  say  it  was  owing  to  the  color  of  their  hair,  but  it  might  more 
probably  be  from  a  difference  in  their  banners  :  one,  bearing  the  sheaves  of  Cummin, 
Hablr,  and  the  other  gules,  would  be  sufficient  to  mark  the  wearers  by  these  names. 
—  (1809.) 


206  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

him  to  lead  them  forward,  Ruthven  placed  himself  with  the 
regent  and  Eraser  in  the  van,  and  led  the  charge.  Little  expect- 
ing an  assault  from  an  adversary  they  had  so  lately  driven  off 
the  field,  the  Southrons  were  taken  by  surprise.  But  they  fought 
well,  and  resolutely  stood  their  ground  till  Wallace  and  Bruce, 
who  commanded  the  flanking  divisions,  closed  in  upon  them  with 
an  impetuosity  that  drove  Confrey's  division  into  the  river. 
Then  the  ambuscade  of  Ramsay  poured  from  his  caves ;  the 
earth  seemed  teeming  with  mailed  warriors  ;  and  the  Southrons, 
seeing  the  surrounding  heights  and  the  deep  defiles  filled  with 
the  same  terrific  appearances,  fled  with  precipitation  towards 
their  second  division,  which  lay  a  few  miles  southward. 
Thither  the  conquering  squadrons  of  the  Scots  followed 
them.  The  fugitives,  leaping  the  trenches  of  the  encamp- 
ment, called  aloud  to  their  comrades,  "Arm!  arm!  hell  is 
in  league  against  us  !  "  Segrave  was  soon  at  the  head  of 
his  legions,  and  a  battle  more  desperate  than  the  first  blazed 
over  the  field.  The  flying  troops  of  the  slain  Confrey,  rally- 
ing around  the  standard  of  their  general-in-chief,  fought  with 
the  spirit  of  revenge,  and  being  now  a  body  of  nearly  twenty 
thousand  men  against  eight  thousand  Scots,  the  conflict  be- 
came tremendous.  In  several  points  the  Southrons  gained  so 
greatly  the  advantage  that  Wallace  and  Bruce  threw  them- 
selves successfully  into  those  parts  where  the  enemy  most 
prevailed,  and  by  exhortations,  example,  and  prowess,  they 
a  thousand  times  turned  the  fate  of  the  day,  appearing,  as 
they  shot  from  rank  to  rank,  to  be  two  comets  of  fire  sent  be- 
fore the  Scottish  troops  to  consume  all  who  opposed  them. 
Segrave  was  taken  and  forty  English  knights  besides.  The 
green  borders  of  the  Eske  were  dyed  red  with  Southron  blood, 
and  the  enemy  on  all  sides  were  calling  for  quarter,  when  of 
a  sudden  the  cry  of  "  Havoc  and  St.  George  ! "  issued  from 
the  rejoining  hill.  At  the  same  moment  a  posse  of  coun- 
try people  (who,  for  the  sake  of  plunder,  had  stolen  into 
that  part  of  the  deserted  English  camp  which  occupied  the 
rear  of  the  height,  seeing  the  advancing  troops  of  a  third 
division  of  the  enemy),  like  guilty  cowards,  rushed  down 
amongst  their  brave  defenders,  echoing  the  war-cry  of  Eng- 
land, and  exclaiming,  "  We  are  lost ;  a  host  reaching  to  the 
horizon  is  upon  us ! "  Terror  struck  to  many  a  Scottish 
heart.  The  Southrons,  who  were,  just  giving  up  their  arms, 
leaped  upon  their  feet.  The  fight  recommenced  with  re- 
doubled fury.  Sir  Robert  Neville,  at  the  head  of  the  new 
reinforcement,  charged  into  the  centre  of  the  Scottish  legions. 


ROSLYN.  207 

Bruce  and  Edwin  threw  themselves  into  the  breach,  which 
this  impetuous  onset  had  made  in  that  part  of  their  line,  and 
fighting  man  to  man,  would  have  taken  Neville  had  not  a 
follower  of  that  nobleman,  wielding  a  ponderous  mace,  struck 
Bruce  so  terrible  a  blow  as  to  fracture  his  helmet  and  cast 
him  from  his  horse  to  the  ground.  The  fall  of  so  active  a 
leader  excited  as  much  dismay  in  the  surrounding  Scots  as  it 
encouraged  the  reviving  spirits  of  the  enemy.  Edwin  exerted 
himself  to  preserve  his  prince  from  being  trampled  on,  and 
while  he  fought  for  that  purpose,  and  afterwards  sent  his 
senseless  body  off  the  field,  under  charge  of  young  Gordon 
(who  had  been  chosen  by  the  disguised  Bruce  as  his  especial 
aide),  to  Roslyn  castle,  Neville  rescued  Segrave  and  his 
knights.  Lord  Euthven  now  contended  with  a  feeble  arm. 
Fatigued  with  the  two  preceding  conflicts,  covered  with 
wounds,  and  perceiving  indeed  a  host  pouring  upon  them  on 
all  sides  (for  the  whole  of  Segrave's  original  army  of  thirty 
thousand  men,  excepting  those  who  had  fallen  in  the  preced- 
ing engagements,  were  now  restored  to  the  assault),  the  Scots, 
in  despair,  gave  ground ;  some  threw  away  their  arms  to  fly 
the  faster,  and  by  thus  exposing  themselves,  panic-struck,  to 
the  swords  of  their  enemies,  redoubled  the  confusion.  Indeed, 
so  great  was  the  havoc  that  the  day  must  have  ended  in  the 
universal  destruction  of  every  Scot  in  the  field  had  not  Wal- 
lace felt  the  crisis,  and  that,  as  Guy  de  Longueville,  he  shed 
his  blood  in  vain.  In  vain  his  terrified  countrymen  saw  him 
rush  into  the  thickest  of  the  carnage ;  in  vain  he  called  to 
them  by  all  that  was  sacred  to  man,  to  stand  to  the  last.  He 
was  a  foreigner,  and  they  had  not  confidence  in  his  exhorta- 
tions ;  death  was  before  them,  and  they  turned  to  fly.  The 
fate  of  his  country  hung  on  an  instant.  The  last  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  shone  full  on  the  rocky  promontory  of  the  hill 
which  projected  over  the  field  of  combat.  He  took  his  reso- 
lution, and  spurring  his  steed  up  the  steep  ascent,  stood  on 
the  summit,  where  he  could  be  seen  by  the  whole  army;  then, 
taking  off  his  helmet,  he  waved  it  in  the  air  with  a  shout ; 
and  having  drawn  all  eyes  upon  him,  suddenly  exclaimed, 
"  Scots  !  you  have  this  day  vanquished  the  Southrons  twice ! 
If  you  be  men,  remember  Cambus-Kenneth  and  follow  William 
Wallace  to  a  third  victory  !  "  The  cry  which  issued  from  the 
amazed  troops  was  that  of  a  people  who  beheld  the  angel  of 
their  deliverance.  "Wallace  !".  was  the  charge-word  of  every 
heart.  The  hero's  courage  seemed  instantaneously  diffused 
through  every  breast,  and  with  braced  arms  and  determined 


208  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

spirits  forming  at  once  into  the  phalanx,  his  thundering  voice 
dictated,  the  Southrons  again  felt  the  weight  of  the  Scottisli 
steel,  and  a  battle  ensued  which  made  the  bright  Eske  run 
purple  to  the  sea,  and  covered  the  pastoral  glades  of  Haw- 
thorndean  with  the  bodies  of  its  invaders. 

Sir  John  Segrave  and  Neville  were  both  taken.  And  ere 
night  closed  in  upon  the  carnage,  Wallace  granted  quarter  to 
those  who  sued  for  it,  and  receiving  their  arms,  left  them  to 
repose  in  their  before  depopulated  camp.1 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

BOSLYN    CASTLE. 

WALLACE  having  planted  an  adequate  force  in  charge  of  the 
prisoners,  went  to  the  two  Southron  commanders  to  pay  them 
the  courtesy  he  thought  due  to  their  bravery  and  rank,  before 
he  retired  with  his  victorious  followers  towards  E/oslyn  castle. 
He  entered  their  tent  alone.  At  sight  of  the  warrior  who  had 
given  them  so  signal  a  defeat,  the  generals  rose.  Neville,  who 
had  received  a  slight  wound  in  one  of  his  arms,  stretched  out 
the  other  to  Wallace.  "  Sir  William  Wallace,"  said  he,  "  that 
you  were  obliged  to  declare  a  name  so  deservedly  renowned 
before  the  troops  I  led  could  be  made  to  relinquish  one  step  of 
their  hard-earned  advantage  was  an  acknowledgment  in  their 
favor  almost  equivalent  to  a  victory." 

Sir  John  Segrave,  who  stood  leaning  on  his  sword  with  a 
disturbed  countenance,  interrupted  him  :  "  The  fate  of  this 
day  cannot  be  attributed  to  any  earthly  name  or  hand.  I  be- 
lieve my  sovereign  will  allow  the  zeal  with  which  I  have  ever 
served  him ;  and  yet  thirty  thousand  as  brave  men  as  ever  crossed 
the  marshes  have  fallen  before  a  handful  of  Scots.  Three  victo- 
ries won  over  Edward's  troops  in  one  day  are  not  events 
of  a  common  nature.  God  alone  has  been  our  vanquisher." 
—  "I  acknowledge  it,"  cried  Wallace ;  "  and  that  he  is  on  the 
side  of  justice,  let  the  return  of  St.  Matthias'  day  ever  remind 
your  countrymen." 

1  The  particulars  of  this  battle  are  not  exaggerated,  and  most  of  them  may  be  found 
elaborately  described  in  Holinshed.  The  hill  where  Wallace  stood  is  still  the  glory  of 
that  part  of  the  Eske;  and  much  of  the  field  of  battle  was  lately  the  property  of  Sir 
Charles  Macdonald  Lockhart,  whose  brave  ancestors  fought  there,  and  well  earned  the 
after  honor  of  bearing  "the  heart  of  Robert  Brace,"  as  the  charge  in  their  coat  of 
arms.  —  (1890.) 


ROSLYN    CASTLE.  209 

When  Segrave  gave  the  victory  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  he 
did  it  more  from  jealousy  of  what  might  be  Edward's  opinion 
of  his  conduct  when  compared  with  Neville's  than  from  any 
intention  to  imply  that  the  cause  of  Scotland  was  justly 
Heaven-defended.  Such  are  the  impious  inconsistencies  of 
unprincipled  men  !  He  frowned  at  the  reply  of  Wallace,  and 
turned  gloomily  away.  Neville  returned  a  respectful  answer, 
and  their  conqueror  soon  after  left  them. 

Edwin,  with  the  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume  (who  had  in- 
deed approved  his  valor  by  many  a  brave  deed  performed  at 
his  commander's  side),  awaited  Wallace's  return  from  his 
prisoner's  tent.  Ruthven  came  up  with  Wallace  before  he 
joined  them,  and  told  him  that  Bruce  was  safe  under  the  care 
of  the  sage  of  Ercildown  ;  and  that  the  regent,  who  had  been 
wounded  in  the  beginning  of  the  day,  was  also  in  Koslyn 
castle.  Wallace  then  called  Edwin  to  him,  giving  him  orders 
that  all  of  the  survivors  who  had  suffered  in  these  three 
desperate  battles  vshould  be  collected  from  amongst  the  slain 
and  carried  into  the  neighboring  castles  of  Hawthorndean, 
Brunston,  and  Dalkeith.  The  rest  of  the  soldiers  were  com- 
manded to  take  their  refreshment  still  under  arms.  These 
duties  performed,  Wallace  turned  with  the  eagerness  of  friend- 
ship and  loyalty  to  see  how  Bruce  fared. 

The  moon  shone  brightly  as  his  party  rode  forward.  Wal- 
lace ascended  the  steep  aclivity  on  which  Roslyn  castle 
stands.  In  crossing  the  drawbridge  which  divides  its  rocky 
peninsula  from  the  mainland,  he  looked  around  and  sighed. 
The  scene  reminded  him  of  Ellerslie.  A  deep  shadow  lay  on 
the  woods  beneath,  and  the  pensile  branches  of  the  now  leaf- 
less trees,  bending  to  meet  the  flood,  seemed  mourning  the 
deaths  which  now  polluted  its  stream.  The  water  lay  in  pro- 
found repose  at  the  base  of  these  beautiful  craigs,  as  if  peace 
longed  to  become  an  inhabitant  of  so  lovely  a  scene. 

At  the  gate  of  the  castle,  its  aged  master,  the  Lord  Sinclair, 
met  Wallace  to  bid  him  welcome.  "  Blessed  be  the  saint  of 
this  day,"  exclaimed  he,  "  for  thus  bringing  our  best  defender, 
even  as  by  a  miracle,  to  snatch  us  as  a  brand  from  the  fire ! 
My  gates,  like  my  heart,  open  to  receive  the  true  regent  of 
Scotland."  —  "I  have  only  done  a  Scotsman's  duty,  venerable 
Sinclair,"  replied  Wallace,  "  and  must  not  arrogate  a  title 
which  Scotland  has  transferred  to  other  hands." —  "Not 
Scotland,  but  rebellion,"  replied  the  old  chief.  "  It  was  rebel- 
lion against  the  just  gratitude  of  the  nation  that  invested  the 
Black  Cummin  with  the  regency,  and  only  some  similar  infatu- 

VOL.  II.  -14 


210  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

ation  has  bestowed  the  same  title  on  his  brother.  What  did  he 
not  lose  till  you,  Scotland's  true  champion,  have  reappeared, 
to  rescue  her  again  from  bondage  ?  "  —  "  The  present  Lord 
Badenoch  is  an  honest  and  a  brave  man,'7  replied  Wallace,  "  and, 
as  I  obey  the  power  which  gave  him  his  authority,  I  am  ready, 
by  fidelity  to  him,  to  serve  Scotland  with  as  vigorous  a  zeal  as 
ever ;  so,  noble  Sinclair,  when  our  rulers  cast  not  trammels  on 
our  virtue,  we  must  obey  them  as  the  vicegerents  of  Heaven." 

Wallace  then  asked  to  be  conducted  to  his  wounded  friend, 
Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville  ;  for  Sinclair  was  ignorant  of  the 
real  rank  of  his  guest.  Eager  to  oblige  him,  his  noble  host  im- 
mediately led  the  way  through  a  gallery,  and,  opening  the  door 
of  an  apartment,  discovered  to  him  Bruce  lying  on  a  couch, 
and  a  venerable  figure,  whose  silver  beard  and  sweeping  robes 
announced  him  to  be  the  sage  of  Ercildown,  was  bathing  the 
wounded  chief's  temples  with  balsams.  A  young  creature,  beau- 
tiful as  a  ministering  seraph,  also  hung  over  the  prostrate  chief. 
She  held  a  golden  casket  in  hand,  out  of  which  the  sage  drew 
the  unctions  he  applied.  At  the  sound  of  Wallace's  voice,  who 
spoke  in  a  suppressed  tone  to  E/uthven  while  entering  the 
chamber,  the  wounded  prince  started  on  his  arm,  to  greet  his 
friend  ;  but  he  as  instantly  fell  back.  Wallace  hastened  forward. 
When  Bruce  recovered  from  the  swoon  into  which  the  sudden- 
ness of  his  attempt  to  rise  had  thrown  him,  he  felt  a  hand 
grasping  his,  he  guessed  to  whom  it  belonged,  and  gently 
pressing  it,  smiled ;  a  moment  afterwards  he  opened  his  eyes, 
and  in  a  low  voice  articulated,  from  his  wounded  lips,  "  My 
dear  Wallace  !  you  are  victorious  ?  " —  "  Completely  so,  my 
prince  and  king,"  returned  he,  in  the  same  tone.  "  All  is  now 
plain  before  you;  speak  but  the  word,  and  render  Scotland 
happy  ! "  —  "  Not  yet,  oh,  not  yet,"  whispered  he.  "  My  more 
than  brother,  allow  Bruce  to  be  himself  again  before  he  is 
known  in  the  land  of  his  fathers.  This  cruel  wound  in  my 
head  must  heal  first,  and  then  I  may  again  share  your  dangers 
and  your  glory.  Oh,  Wallace,  not  a  Southron  must  taint  our 
native  lands  when  my  name  is  proclaimed  in  Scotland  !  "  1 

Wallace  saw  that  his  prince  was  not  in  a  state  to  bear 
argument)  and  as  all  had  retired  far  from  the  couch  when  he 

1  It  is  a  curious  circumstance  that  when  the  body  of  Bruce  was  discovered,  a  few 
years  ago,  in  the  abbey  of  Dunfermline,  his  head  retained  all  its  teeth,  excepting  two  in 
front,  evidently  originally  injured  by  a  stroke  of  violence.  Besides  this,  the  evidence 
remained  in  the  bone  of  the  chest,  of  the  fact  of  its  having  been  cut  open  after  his  death, 
for  the  heart  to  be  taken  out,  according  to  his  dying  command,  to  be  sent  to  the  Holy 
Land.  The  history  of  that  royal  heart's  wandering,  in  its  sepulchral  urn,  is  very  inter- 
esting, connecting  with  it  the  valor  of  the  Douglas  and  the  Lockhart.  The  minister  of 
Dunfermline  sent  to  the  author  of  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs  "  a  piece  of  the  shroud  of 
Bruce;  it  had  been  cloth  of  gold.— (1828.) 


ROSLYN    CASTLE.  211 

approached  it,  in  gratitude  for  this  propriety  (for  it  had  left  him 
and  his  friend  free  to  converse  unobserved)  he  turned  tow- 
ards the  other  inmates  of  the  chamber.  The  sage  advanced 
to  him,  and  recognizing  in  Wallace's  now  manly  form  the  fine 
youth  he  had  seen  with  Sir  Ronald  Crawford  at  the  claiming 
of  the  crown,  he  saluted  him  with  a  paternal  affection,  tem- 
pering the  sublime  feelings  with  which  even  he  approached 
the  resistless  champion  of  his  country,  and  then  beckoning 
the  beautiful  girl  who  had  so  compassionately  hung  over  the 
couch  of  Bruce,  she  drew  near  the  sage.  He  took  her  hand. 
"Sir  William  Wallace,"  said  he,  "this  sweet  child  is  the 
youngest  daughter  of  the  brave  Mar,  who  died  in  the  field  of 
glory  on  the  Carron.  Her  grandfather,  the  stalworth  Knight 
of  Thirlstane,  fell  a  few  weeks  ago  defending  his  castle,  and 
I  am  almost  all  that  is  left  to  her,  though  she  has,  or  had,  a 
sister,  of  whom  we  can  learn  no  tidings."  Isabella,  for  it  was 
she,  covered  her  face  to  conceal  her  emotions.  "Dear  lady," 
said  Wallace,  "these  venerable  heroes  were  both  known  to 
and  beloved  by  me.  And  now  that  Heaven  has  resumed  them 
to  itself,  as  the  last  act  of  friendship  that  I,  perhaps,  may  be 
fated  to  pay  to  their  offspring,  I  shall  convey  you  to  that 
sister  whose  matchless  heart  yearns  to  receive  so  dear  a  con- 
solation." 

To  disengage  Isabella's  thoughts  from  the  afflicting  remem- 
brances now  bathing  her  fair  cheeks  with  tears,  Ercildown 
put  a  cup  of  the  mingled  juice  of  herbs  into  her  hand,  and 
commissioned  her  to  give  it  to  their  invalid.  Wallace  now 
learnt  that  his  friend's  wound  was  not  only  in  the  head,  accom- 
panied by  a  severe  concussion,  but  that  it  must  be  many  days 
before  he  could  remove  from  off  his  bed  without  danger. 
Anxious  to  release  him  from  even  the  scarcely  breathed 
whispers  of  his  martial  companions,  who  stood  at  some  dis- 
tance from  his  couch,  Wallace  immediately  proposed  leaving 
him  to  rest,  and,  beckoning  the  chiefs,  they  followed  him  out 
of  the  apartment. 

On  the  following  morning  he  was  aroused  at  daybreak  by 
the  abrupt  entrance  of  Andrew  Lord  Bothwell  into  his  tent. 
The  well-known  sounds  of  his  voice  made  Wallace  start  from 
his  pillow,  and  extend  his  arms  to  receive  him.  "  Murray ! 
my  brave,  invaluable  Murray  !  "  cried  he ;  "  thou  art  welcome 
once  more  to  the  side  of  thy  brother  in  arms.  Thou  and  thine 
must  ever  be  first  in  my  heart !  "  The  young  Lorjj.  Bothwell 
returned  his  warm  embrace  in  eloquent  silence,  but  sitting 
down  by  Wallace's  couch,  he  grasped  his  hand,  and  pressing 


212  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

it  to  his  breast,  said,  "  I  feel  a  happiness  here  which  I  have 
never  known  since  the  day  of  Falkirk.  You  quitted  us,  Wal- 
lace, and  all  good  seemed  gone  with  you,  or  buried  in  my 
father's  grave.  But  you  return!  You  bring  conquest  and 
peace  with  you ;  you  restore  our  Helen  to  her  family ;  you 
bless  us  with  yourself !  And  shall  you  not  see  again  the  gay 
Andrew  Murray?  It  must  be  so,  my  friend;  melancholy  is 
not  my  climate,  and  I  shall  now  live  in  your  beams." —  "  Dear 
Murray,"  returned  Wallace,  "this  generous  enthusiasm  can 
only  be  equalled  by  my  joy  in  all  that  makes  you  and  Scotland 
happy."  He  then  proceeded  to  confide  to  him  all  that  related 
to  Bruce,  and  to  describe  the  minutiae  of  those  plans  for  his 
establishment  which  had  only  been  hinted  in  his  letters  from 
France.  Bothwell  entered  with  ardor  into  these  designs,  and 
regretted  that  the  difficulty  he  found  in  persuading  the  vet- 
erans of  Lanark  to  follow  him  to  any  field  where  they  did  not 
expect  to  find  their  beloved  Wallace  had  deprived  him  of  the 
participation  of  the  late  danger  and  new  glory  of  his  friend. 
"  To  compensate  for  that  privation,"  replied  Wallace,  "  while 
our  prince  is  disabled  from  pursuing  victory  in  his  own  per- 
son, we  must  not  allow  our  present  advantages  to  lose  their 
expected  effects.  You  shall  accompany  me  through  the  Low- 
lands, where  we  must  recover  the  places  which  the  ill-fortune 
of  James  Cummin  has  lost." 

Murray  gladly  embraced  this  opportunity  of  again  sharing 
the  field  with  Wallace,  and  the  chiefs  joined  Bruce.  Bothwell 
was  presented  to  his  young  sovereign,  and  Douglas  entering, 
the  discourse  turned  on  their  different  posts  of  duty.  Wallace 
suggested  to  his  royal  friend  that  as  his  restoration  to  health 
could  not  be  so  speedy  as  the  cause  required,  it  would  be  nec- 
essary not  to  await  that  event,  but  begin  the  recovery  of  the 
border  counties  before  Edward  could  reenforce  their  garrisons. 
Bruce  sighed,  but  with  a  generous  glow  suffusing  his  pale  face 
said,  "  Go,  my  friend  !  Bless  Scotland  which  way  you  will, 
and  let  my  ready  acquiescence  convince  future  ages  that  I  love 
my  country  beyond  my  own  fame ;  for  her  sake  I  relinquish 
to  you  the  whole  glory  of  delivering  her  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  tyrant  who  has  so  long  usurped  my  rights.  Men  may  say, 
when  they  hear  this,  that  I  do  not  merit  the  crown  you  will 
put  upon  my  head ;  that  I  have  lain  on  a  couch  while  you 
fought  for  me ;  but  I  will  bear  all  obloquy  rather  than  deserve 
its  slightest;  charge  by  withholding  you  an  hour  from  the  great 
work  of  Scotland's  peace."  —  "  It  is  not  for  the  breath  of  men, 
my  dear  prince,"  returned  Wallace,  "  that  either  you  or  I  act. 


ROSLYN    CASTLE.  213 

It  is  sufficient  for  us  that  we  effect  their  good,  and  whether 
the  agent  be  one  or  the  other,  the  end  is  the  same.  Our  deeds 
and  intentions  have  one  great  Judge,  and  he  will  award  the 
only  true  glory." 

Such  were  the  principles  which  filled  the  hearts  of  these 
two  friends,  worthy  of  each  other,  and  alike  honorable  to  the 
country  that  gave  them  birth.  Gordon  had  won  their  confi- 
dence, and  watched  by  his  prince's  pillow. 

Though  the  wounded  John  Cummin  remained  possessed  of 
the  title  of  regent,  Wallace  was  virtually  endowed  with  the 
authority.  Whatever  he  suggested  was  acted  upon  as  by  a 
decree  ;  all  eyes  looked  to  him  as  to  the  cynosure  by  which 
every  order  of  men  in  Scotland  were  to  shape  their  course. 
The  jealousies  which  had  driven  him  from  his  former  supreme 
seat  seemed  to  have'  died  with  their  prime  instigator,  the  late 
regent,  and  no  chief  of  any  consequence,  excepting  Soulis  and 
Athol,  who  had  retired  in  disgust  to  their  castles,  breathed  a 
word  in  opposition  to  the  general  gratitude. 

WTallace,  having  dictated  his  terms  and  sent  his  prisoners  to 
England,  commenced  the  march  that  was  to  clear  the  Low- 
lands of  the  foe.  His  own  valiant  band,  headed  by  Scrym- 
geour  and  Lockhart  of  Lee,1  rushed  towards  his  standard  with 
a  zeal  that  rendered  each  individual  a  host  in  himself.  The 
fame  of  his  new  victories,  seconded  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
people  and  the  determination  of  the  troops,  soon  made  him 
master  of  all  the  lately  lost  fortresses. 

Hardly  four  weeks  were  consumed  in  these  conquests,  and 
not  a  rood  of  land  remained  south  of  the  Tay  in  the  posses- 
sion of  England,  excepting  Berwick.  Before  that  often-dis- 
puted stronghold,  Wallace  drew  up  his  forces  to  commence  a 
regular  siege.  The  governor,  intimidated  by  the  powerful  works 
which  he  saw  the  Scottish  chief  forming  against  the  town, 
despatched  a  messenger  to  Edward  with  the  tidings,  not  only 
praying  for  succors,  but  to  inform  him  that  if  he  continued  to 
refuse  the  peace  for  which  the  Scots  fought,  he  would  find  it 
necessary  to  begin  the  conquest  of  the  kingdom  anew. 

1  The  crusading  ancestor  of  this  Lockhart  was  the  bringer  of  the  famous  Let,  penny 
from  the  Holy  Land,  and  fioin  him  sprung  the  three  brave  branches  of  the  name, — 
Lockhart  of  Lee;  Lockhart  of  Carnwath;  and  Lockhart  of  Drydcan,  —  all  now  centred 
in  the  family  ot  Sir  Norman  Macdonald  Lockhart,  Bart.,  who  also  inherits  from  his  fore- 
fathers a  countship  of  the  German  empire.  —  (1840.) 


214  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 


CHAPTER   LXX. 

BERWICK. 

WHILE  Wallace,  accompanied  by  his  brave  friends,  was  thus 
carrying  all  before  him  from  the  Grampian  to  the  Cheviot 
Hills,  Bruce  was  rapidly  recovering.  His  eager  wishes  seemed 
to  heal  his  wounds,  and  on  the  tenth  day  after  the  departure 
of  Wallace,  he  left  that  couch  which  had  been  beguiled  of  its 
irksomeness  by  the  smiling  attentions  of  the  tender  Isabella. 
The  ensuing  Sabbath  beheld  him  still  more  restored,  and  hav- 
ing imparted  his  intentions  to  the  Lords  Ruthven  and  Douglas, 
who  were  with  him,  the  next  morning  he  joyfully  buckled  on 
his  armor.  Isabella,  when  she  saw  him  thus  clad,  started,  and 
the  roses  left  her  cheek.  "  I  am  armed  to  be  your  guide  to 
Hunting-tower,"  said  he,  with  a  look  that  showed  her  he  read 
her  thoughts.  He  then  called  for  pen  and  ink  to  write  to 
Wallace.  The  reassured  Isabella,  rejoicing  in  the  glad  beams 
of  his  brightening  eyes,  held  the  standish.  As  he  dipped  his 
pen,  he  looked  at  her  with  a  grateful  tenderness  that  thrilled 
to  her  soul,  and  made  her  bend  her  blushing  face  to  hide  emo- 
tions which  whispered  bliss  in  every  beat  of  her  happy  heart. 
Thus,  with  a  spirit  wrapt  in  felicity,  for  victory  hailed  him 
from  without,  and  love  seemed  to  woo  him  to  the  dearest 
transports  within,  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Wallace : 

"I  am  now  well,  my  best  friend.  This  day  I  attend  my 
lovely  nurse  with  her  venerable  guardian  to  Hunting-tower. 
Eastward  of  Perth  almost  every  castle  of  consequence  is  yet 
filled  by  the  Southrons,  whom  the  folly  of  James  Cummin 
allowed  to  reoccupy  the  places  whence  you  had  so  lately  driven 
them.  I  go  to  root  them  out,  to  emulate  in  the  north  what 
you  are  now  doing  in  the  south!  You  shall  see  me  again  when 
the  banks  of  the  Spey  are  as  free  as  you  have  made  the  Forth. 
In  all  this  I  am  yet  Thomas  de  Longueville.  Isabella,  the 
sweet  soother  of  my  hours,  knows  me  as  no  other,  for  would 
she  not  despise  the  unfamed  Bruce  ?  To  deserve  and  win  her 
love  as  De  Longueville,  and  to  marry  her  as  King  of  Scotland, 

is  the  fond  hope  of  your  friend  and  brother,  Robert .  God 

speed  me  \  and  I  shall  send  you  despatches  of  my  proceedings." 

Wallace  had  just  made  a  successful  attack  upon  the  out- 
works of  Berwick  when  this  letter  was  put  into  his  hand.  He 
was  surrounded  by  his  chieftains,  and  having  read  it,  he  in- 


BERWICK.  215 

formed  them  that  Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville  was  going  to  the 
Spey  to  rid  its  castles  of  the  enemy. 

"  The  hopes  of  his  enterprising  spirit,"  continued  Wai'ace, 
"  are  so  seconded  by  his  determination,  I  doubt  not  that  what 
he  promises,  God,  and  the  justice  of  our  cause,  will  perfor.n, 
and  we  may  soon  expect  to  hear  Scotland  has  no  enemies  IL 
her  Highlands." 

But  in  this  hope  Wallace  was  disappointed.  Day  after  day 
passed  and  no  tidings  from  the  north.  He  became  anxious ; 
Bothwell,  and  Edwin  too,  began  to  share  his  uneasiness.  Con- 
tinued successes  against  Berwick  had  assured  them  of  a  speedy 
surrender,  when  unexpected  succors  being  thrown  in  by  sea, 
the  confidence  of  the  garrison  became  reexcited,  and  the  ram- 
parts appearing  doubly  manned,  Wallace  saw  the  only  alterna- 
tive was  to  surprise  —  take  possession  of  the  ships  and  turn 
the  siege  into  a  blockade.  Still  trusting  that  Bruce  would  be 
prosperous  in  the  Highlands,  he  calculated  on  full  leisure  to 
await  the  fall  of  Berwick  upon  this  plan,  and  so  much  blood 
might  be  spared.  Intent  and  execution  were  twin-born  in  the 
breast  of  Wallace.  By  a  masterly  stroke,  he  effected  his  design 
on  the  shipping,  and  having  closed  the  Southrons  within  their 
walls  he  despatched  Lord  Bothwell  to  Hunting-tower,  to  learn 
the  state  of  military  operations  there,  and  above  all,  to  bring 
back  tidings  of  the  prince's  health. 

On  the  evening  of  the  very  day  in  which  Murray  left  Ber- 
wick, a  desperate  sally  was  made  by  the  garrison,  but  they 
were  beaten  back  with  such  effect  that  Wallace  gained  pos- 
session of  one  of  their  most  commanding  towers.  The  contest 
did  not  end  till  night,  and  after  passing  a  brief  while  in  the 
council-tent,  listening  to  the  suggestions  of  his  friends  relative 
to  the  use  that  might  be  made  of  the  new  acquisition,  he  re- 
tired to  his  own  quarters  at  a  late  hour.  At  these  momentous 
periods  he  never  seemed  to  need  sleep,  and  seated  at  his  table, 
settling  the  dispositions  for  the  succeeding  day,  he  marked  not 
the  time,  till  the  flame  of  his  exhausted  lamp  expired  in  the 
socket.  He  replenished  it,  and  had  again  resumed  his  military 
labors  when  the  curtain  which  covered  the  door  of  his  tent  was 
drawn  aside  and  an  armed  man  entered.  Wallace  looked  up, 
and  seeing  that  it  was  the  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume,  asked 
if  anything  had  occurred  from  the  town. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  the  knight,  in  an  agitated  voice,  and 
seating  himself  beside  Wallace.  "  Any  evil  tidings  from  Perth- 
shire ?  "  demanded  Wallace,  who  now  hardly  doubted  that  ill 
news  had  arrived  of  Bruce.  "  None,"  was  the  knight's  reply, 


216  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"  but  I  am  come  to  fulfil  my  promise  to  you,  to  unite  myself 
forever,  heart  and  soul,  to  your  destiny,  or  you  behold  me  this 
nigUt  for  the  last  time."  Surprised  at  this  address,  and  the 
emotion  which  shook  the  frame  of  the  unknown  warrior,  Wal- 
lace answered  him  with  expressions  of  esteem,  and  added,  "  If 
it  depend  on  me  to  unite  so  brave  a  man  to  my  friendship  for- 
ever, only  speak  the  word,  declare  your  name,  and  I  am  ready 
to  seal  the  compact." —  "  My  name,"  returned  the  knight,  "  will 
indeed  put  these  protestations  to  the  proof.  I  have  fought  by 
your  side,  Sir  William  Wallace.  I  would  have  died  at  any 
moment  to  have  spared  that  breast  a  wound,  and  yet  I  dread 
to  raise  this  visor  to  show  you  who  I  am.  A  look  will  make 
me  live,  or  blast  me."  —  "  Your  language  confounds  me,  noble 
knight,"  replied  Wallace ;  "  I  know  of  no  man  living,  saving 
the  base  violators  of  Lady  Helen  Mar's  liberty,  who  need 
tremble  before  my  eyes.  It  is  not  possible  that  either  of  these 
men  is  before  me,  and  whoever  you  are,  whatever  you  may 
have  been,  brave  chief,  your  deeds  have  proved  you  worthy  of 
a  soldier's  friendship,  and  I  pledge  you  mine." 

The  knight  was  silent.  He  took  Wallace's  hand  —  he 
grasped  it ;  the  arms  that  held  it  did  indeed  tremble.  Wal- 
lace again  spoke  :  "  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  I  am  no 
tyrant,  no  monarch,  to  excite  these  dreads.  I  have  a  power 
to  benefit,  but  none  to  injure."  —  "  To  benefit  and  to  injure  !  " 
cried  the  knight  in  a  transport  of  emotion ;  "  you  have  my  life 
in  your  hands.  Oh,  grant  it,  as  you  value  your  own  happiness 
and  honor !  Look  on  me,  and  say  whether  I  am  to  live  or  die." 
As  the  warrior  spoke  he  cast  himself  impetuously  on  his  knees 
and  threw  open  his  visor.  Wallace  saw  a  fine  but  flushed  face. 
It  was  much  overshadowed  by  the  helmet.  "  My  friend,"  said 
he,  attempting  to  raise  him  by  the  hand  which  clasped  his, 
"  your  words  are  mysteries  to  me,  and  so  little  right  can  I  have 
to  the  power  you  ascribe  to  me  that,  although  it  seems  to  me 
as  if  I  had  seen  your  features  before,  yet  —  "  —  "  You  forget 
me,"  cried  the  knight,  starting  on  his  feet  and  throwing  off 
his  helmet  to  the  ground  ;  "  again  look  on  this  face,  and  stab 
me  at  once  by  a  second  declaration  that  I  am  remembered  no 
more." 

The  countenance  of  Wallace  now  showed  that  he  too  well 
remembered  it.  He  was  pale  and  aghast.  "  Lady  Mar,"  cried 
he,  "  not  expecting  to  see  you  under  a  warrior's  casque,  you 
will  pardon  me  that,  when  so  apparelled,  I  should  not  immedi- 
ately recognize  the  widow  of  my  friend."  She  gasped  for 
articulation.  "  And  is  it  thus,"  cried  she,  "  you  answer  the 


BERWICK.  217 

sacrifices  I  have  made  for  you  ?  For  you  I  have  committed 
an  outrage  on  my  nature  ;  I  have  put  on  me  this  abhorrent 
steel ;  I  have  braved  the  dangers  of  many  a  hard-fought  day, 
and  all  to  guard  your  life,  to  convince  you  of  a  love  unex- 
ampled in  woman,  and  thus  you  recognize  her  who  has  risked 
honor  and  life  for  you  —  with  coldness  and  reproach."  —  "  With 
neither,  Lady  Mar,"  returned  he.  "  I  am  grateful  for  the  gen- 
erous motives  of  your  conduct,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  fair 
fame  you  confess  you  have  endangered ;  in  respect  to  the 
memory  of  him  whose  name  you  bear,  I  cannot  but  wish  that 
so  hazardous  an  instance  of  interest  in  .me  had  been  left  un- 
done." —  "  If  that  is  all,"  returned  she,  drawing  towards  him, 
"  it  is  in  your  power  to  ward  from  me  every  stigma.  Who 
will  dare  to  cast  one  reflection  on  my  fair  fame,  when  you 
bear  testimony  to  my  purity  ?  Who  will  asperse  the  name  of 
Mar,  when  you  displace  it  with  that  of  Wallace  ?  Make  me 
yours,  dearest  of  men,"  cried  she,  clasping  his  hands,  "and 
yoii  will  receive  one  to  your  heart  who  never  knew  how  to 
love  before,  who  will  be  to  you  what  woman  never  yet  was, 
and  who  will  endow  you  with  territories  nearly  equal  to  those 
of  the  King  of  Scotland.  My  father  is  no  more,  and  now,  as 
Countess  of  Strathearn  and  Princess  of  the  Orkneys,  I  have  it 
in  my  power  to  bring  a  sovereignty  to  your  head  and  the 
fondest  of  wives  to  your  bosom."  As  she  vehemently  spoke 
and  clung  to  Wallace,  as  if  she  had  already  a  right  to  seek 
comfort  within  his  arms,  her  tears  and  violent  agitations  so 
disconcerted  him  that  for  a  few  moments  he  could  not  find  a 
reply.  This  short  endurance  of  her  passion  aroused  her  almost 
drooping  hopes,  and  intoxicated  with  so  rapturous  an  illusion, 
she  threw  off  the  little  restraint  in  which  her  awe  of  Wallace's 
coldness  had  confined  her,  and  flinging  herself  on  his  breast, 
poured  forth  all  her  love  and  fond  ambitions  for  him.  In  vain 
he  attempted  to  interrupt  her,  to  raise  her  with  gentleness 
from  her  indecorous  situation.  She  had  no  perception  but  for 
the  idea  which  had  now  taken  possession  of  her  heart,  and 
whispering  him  softly,  said,  "Be  but  my  husband,  Wallace, 
and  all  rights  shall  perish  before  my  love  and  your  aggrandize- 
ment. In  these  arms  you  shall  bless  the  day  you  first  saw 
Joanna  of  Strathearn." 

The  prowess  of  the  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume,  the  respect 
he  owed  to  the  widow  of  the  Earl  of  Mar,  the  tenderness  he 
ever  felt  for  all  of  womankind,  were  all  forgotten  in  the  disgust- 
ing blandishments  of  this  disgrace  to  her  sex.  She  wooed  to 
be  his  wife,  but  not  with  the  chaste  appeal  of  the  widow  of 


218  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Mahlon.  "  Let  me  find  favor  in  thy  sight,  for  thou  hast  com-* 
forted  me.  Spread  thy  garment  over  me,  and  let  me  be  thy 
wife,"  said  the  fair  Moabitess,  who  in  a  strange  land  cast  her- 
self, at  the  feet  of  her  deceased  husband's  friend.  She  was 
answered,  "I  will  do  all  that  thou  requirest,  for  thou  art  a 
virtuous  woman."  But  neither  the  actions  nor  the  words  of 
Lady  Mar  bore  witness  that  she  deserved  this  appellation. 
They  were  the  dictates  of  a  passion  impure  as  it  was  intem- 
perate. Blinded  by  its  fumes,  she  forgot  the  nature  of  the 
heart  she  sought  to  pervert  to  sympathy  with  hers.  She  saw 
not  that  every  look  and  movement  on  her  part  filled  Wallace 
with  aversion,  and  not  until  he  forcibly  broke  from  her  did  she 
doubt  the  success  of  her  fond  caresses. 

"  Lady  Mar,"  said  he,  "I  must  repeat  that  I  am  not  ungrate- 
ful for  the  proofs  of  regard  you  have  bestowed  on  me ;  but 
such  excess  of  attachment  is  lavished  upon  a  man  that  is  a 
bankrupt  in  love.  I  am  cold  as  monumental  marble  to  every 
touch  of  that  passion  to  which  I  was  once  but  too  entirely 
devoted.  Bereaved  of  the  object,  I  am  punished ;  thus  is  my 
heart  doomed  to  solitude  on  earth,  for  having  made  an  idol  of 
the  angel  that  was  sent  to  cheer  my  path  to  heaven."  Wal- 
lace said  even  more  than  this.  He  remonstrated  with  her  on 
the  shipwreck  she  was  making  of  her  own  happiness,  in  adher- 
ing thus  tenaciously  to  a  man  who  could  only  regard  her  with 
the  general  sentiment  of  esteem.  He  urged  her  beauty  and  yet 
youthful  years ;  and  how  many  would  be  eager  to  win  her  love, 
and  to  marry  her  with  honor.  While  he  continued  to  speak 
to  her  with  -the  tender  consideration  of  a  brother,  she,  who 
knew  no  gradations  in  the  affections  of  the  heart,  doubted  his 
words,  and  believed  that  a  latent  fire  glowed  in  his  breast 
which  her  art  might  yet  blow  into  a  flame.  She  threw  herself 
upon  her  knees,  she  wept,  she  implored  his  pity,  she  wound 
her  arms  around  his,  and  bathed  his  hands  with  her  tears  ;  but 
still  he  continued  to  urge  her  by  every  argument  of  female 
delicacy  to  relinquish  her  ill-directed  love ;  to  return  to  her 
domains,  before  her  absence  could  be  generally  known.  She 
looked  up  to  read  his  countenance.  A  friend's  anxiety,  nay, 
authority,  was  there,  but  no  glow  of  passion ;  all  was  calm  and 
determined.  Her  beauty,  then,  had  been  shown  to  a  man  with- 
out eyes ;  her  tender  eloquence  poured  on  an  ear  that  was 
deaf ;  her  blandishments  lavished  on  a  block  of  marble.  In  a 
paroxysm  of  despair  she  dashed  the  hand  she  held  far  from 
her,  and  standing  proudly  on  her  feet —  "Hear  me,  thou  man 
of  stone  ! "  cried  she,  "  and  answer  me  on  your  life  and  honor, 


BERWICK.  219 

for  both,  depend  on  your  reply :  Is  Joanna  of  Strathearn  to 
be  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Cease  to  urge  me,  unhappy  lady,"  returned  Wallace  ;  "you 
already  know  the  decision  of  this  ever-widowed  heart."  Lady 
Mar  looked  steadfastly  at  him.  "  Then  receive  my  last  deter- 
mination," and  drawing  near  him,  with  a  desperate  and  por- 
tentous countenance,  as  if  she  meant  to  whisper  in  his  ear,  she 
suddenly  plucked  St.  Louis'  dagger  from  his  girdle  and  struck 
it  into  his  breast.  He  caught  the  hand  which  grasped  the  hilt. 
Her  eyes  glared  with  the  fury  of  a  maniac,  and,  with  a  horrid 
laugh,  she  exclaimed,  "  I  have  slain  thee,  insolent  triumpher  in 
my  love  and  agonies !  Thou  shalt  not  now  deride  me  in  the 
arms  of  thy  minion,  for  I  know  that  it  is  not  for  the  dead 
Marion  you  have  trampled  on  my  heart,  but  for  the  living 
Helen."  As  she  spoke,  he  moved  her  hold  from  the  dagger 
and  drew  the  weapon  from  the  wound.  A  torrent  of  blood 
flowed  over  his  vest  and  stained  the  hand  that  grasped  hers. 
She  turned  of  a  deadly  paleness,  but  a  demoniac  joy  still 
gleamed  in  her  eyes.  "  Lady  Mar,"  cried  he,  while  he  thrust 
the  thickness  of  his  scarf  into  the  wound,  "  I  pardon  this  out- 
rage. Go  in  peace ;  and  I  shall  never  breathe  to  man  nor 
woman  the  occurrences  of  this  night.  Only  remember  that 
with  regard  to  Lady  Helen,  my  wishes  are  as  pure  as  her  own 
innocence."  —  "  So  they  may  be  now,  vainly  boasting,  immacu- 
late Wallace ! "  answered  she,  with  bitter  derision ;  "  men  are 
saints  when  their  passions  are  satisfied.  Think  not  to  impose 
on  her  who  knows  how  this  vestal  Helen  followed  you  in 
page's  attire,  and  without  one  stigma  being  cast  on  her  maiden 
delicacy.  I  am  not  to  learn  the  days  and  the  nights  she  passed 
alone  with  you  in  the  woods  of  Normandy  !  Did  you  not  fol- 
low her  to  France  ?  Did  you  not  tear  her  from  the  arms  of 
Lord  Aymer  de  Valence  ?  and  now,  relinquishing  her  yourself, 
you  leave  a  dishonored  bride  to  cheat  the  vows  of  some  hon- 
ester  man  !  Wallace,  I  now  know  you ;  and  as  I  have  been 
fool  enough  to  love  you  beyond  all  woman's  love,  I  swear  by 
the  powers  of  heaven  and  hell  to  make  you  feel  the  weight  of 
woman's  hatred ! " 

Her  denunciations  had  no  effect  on  Wallace,  but  her  slander 
against  her  unoffending  daughter-in-law  agitated  him  with  an 
indignation  that  almost  dispossessed  him  of  himself.  In  hur- 
ried and  vehement  words  he  denied  all  that  she  had  alleged 
against  Helen,  and  appealed  to  the  whole  court  of  France  to 
witness  her  spotless  innocence.  Lady  Mar  exulted  in  this 
•motion,  though  every  sentence,  by  the  interest  it  displayed  in 


220  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

its  object,  seemed  to  establish  the  truth  of  a  suspicion  which 
she  had  at  first  only  uttered  from  the  vague  workings  of  her 
revenge.  Triumphing  in  the  belief  that  he  had  found  another 
as  frail  as  herself,  and  yet  maddened  that  another  should  have 
been  preferred  before  her,  her  jealous  pride  blazed  into  re- 
doubled flame.  "  Swear,"  cried  she,  "  till  I  see  the  blood  of 
that  false  heart  forced  to  my  feet,  and  still  I  shall  believe  the 
base  daughter  of  Mar  a  wanton.  I  go,  not  to  proclaim  her 
dishonor  to  the  world,  but  to  deprive  her  of  her  lover  —  tc 
yield  the  rebel  Wallace  into  the  hands  of  justice !  When  on 
the  scaffold,  proud  exulter  in  those  by  me  now  detested  beau- 
ties, remember  that  it  was  Joanna  of  Strathearn  who  laid  thy 
matchless  head  upon  the  block  ;  who  consigned  those  limbs  of 
heaven's  own  statuary  to  decorate  the  spires  of  Scotland! 
Remember  that  my  curse  pursues  you  here  and  hereafter  ! " 
A  livid  fire  seemed  to  dart  from  her  scornful  eyes,  her  counte- 
nance was  torn  as  by  some  internal  fiend,  and  with  the  last 
malediction  thundering  from  her  tongue,  she  darted  from  his 
sight. 


CHAPTER   LXXI. 

THE    CAMP. 

NEXT  morning  Wallace  was  recalled  from  the  confusion  into 
which  his  nocturnal  visitor  had  thrown  his  mind,  by  the  en- 
trance of  Ker,  who  came  as  usual  with  the  reports  of  .the 
night.  In  the  course  of  the  communication  he  mentioned  that 
about  three  hours  before  sunrise  the  Knight  of  the  Green 
Plume  had  left  the  camp  with  his  despatches  for  Stirling. 
Wallace  was  scarcely  surprised  at  this  ready  falsehood  of 
Lady  Mar's,  and  not  intending  to  betray  her,  he  merely  said? 
"  Long  ere  he  appears  again,  I  hope  we  shall  have  good  tid- 
ings from  our  friends  in  the  north." 

But  day  succeeded  day,  and  notwithstanding  BothwelPs 
embassy,  no  accounts  arrived.  The  countess  had  left  an  emis- 
sary in  the  Scottish  camp  who  did  as  she  had  done  before, 
intercept  all  messengers  from  Perthshire. 

Indeed,  from  the  first  of  her  flight  to  Wallace,  to  the  hour 
of  her  quitting  him,  she  had  never  halted  in  her  purpose  from 
any  regard  to  honor.  Previous  to  her  stealing  from  Hunting- 
tower  she  had  bribed  the  seneschal  to  say  that  on  the  morning 
of  her  disappearance  he  had  met  a  knight  near  St.  Concal's 


THE    CAMP.  221 

well,  coming  to  the  castle,  who  told  him  that  the  Countess  of 
Mar  was  gone  on  a  secret  mission  to  Norway,  and  she  there- 
fore had  commanded  him,  by  that  knight,  to  enjoin  her  sister- 
in-law,  for  the  sake  of  the  cause  most  dear  to  them  all,  not 
to  acquaint  Lord  Buthven,  or  any  of  their  friends,  with  her 
departure,  till  she  should  return  with  happy  news  for  Scotland. 
The  man  added  that  after  declaring  this  the  knight  rode 
hastily  away.  But  this  precaution,  which  did  not  indeed 
impose  on  the  innocent  credulity  of  her  husband's  sister  and 
his  daughter,  failed  to  satisfy  the  countess  herself.  Fearful 
that  Helen  might  communicate  her  flight  to  Wallace,  and  so 
excite  his  suspicion  of  her  not  being  far  from  him,  from  the 
moment  of  her  joining  him  at  Linlithgow  she  intercepted 
every  letter  from  Hunting-tower,  and  when  Bruce  went  to 
that  castle,  she  continued  the  practice  with  double  vigilance, 
being  jealous  of  what  might  be  said  of  Helen  by  this  Sir 
Thomas  de  Longueville,  in  whom  the  master  of  her  fate 
seemed  so  unreservedly  to  confide.  To  this  end,  even  after 
she  left  the  camp,  all  packets  from  Perthshire  were  conveyed 
to  her  by  the  spy  she  had  stationed  near  Wallace,  while  all 
which  were  sent  from,  him  to  Hunting-tower  were  stopped  by 
the  treacherous  seneschal  and  thrown  into  the  flames.  No 
letters,  however,  ever  came  from  Helen;  a  few  bore  Lord 
Ruthven's  superscription,  and  all  the  rest  were  addressed  by 
Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville  to  Wallace.  She  broke  the  seals 
of  this  correspondence,  but  she  looked  in  vain  on  their  con- 
tents. Bruce  and  his  friend,  as  well  as  Ruthven,  wrote  in  a 
cipher,  and  only  one  passage,  which  the  former  had  by  chance 
written  in  the  common  character,  could  she  ever  make  out. 
It  ran  thus  : 

a  I  have  just  returned  to  Hunting-tower,  after  the  capture 
of  Kinfouns.  Lady  Helen  sits  by  me  on  one  side,  Isabella  on 
the  other.  Isabella  smiles  on  me  like  the  spirit  of  happiness. 
Helen's  look  is  not  less  gracious ;  for  I  tell  her  I  am  writing 
to  Sir  William  Wallace.  She  smiles,  but  it  is  with  such  a 
smile  as  that  with  which  a  saint  would  relinguish  to  heaven 
the  dearest  object  of  its  love.  '  Helen/  said  I,  <  what  shall  I 
say  from  you  to  our  friend  ?  '  — '  That  I  pray  for  him/  —  <  That 
you  think  of  him  ? '  — '  That  I  pray  for  him/  repeated  she 
more  emphatically,  '  that  is  the  way  I  always  think  of  my  pre- 
server.7 Her  manner  checked  me,  my  dear  Wallace,  but  I 
would  give  worlds  that  you  could  bring  your  heart  to  make 
this  sweet  vestal  smile,  as  I  do  her  sister." 

Lady  Mar   crushed   the  registered  wish   in  her  hand,  and 


222  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

though  she  was  never  able  to  decipher  a  word  more  of  Bruce  Js 
numerous  letters  (many  of  which,  could  she  have  read  them, 
contained  complaints  of  that  silence  she  had  so  cruelly  occa- 
sioned), she  took  and  destroyed  them  all. 

She  had  ever  shunned  the  penetrating  eyes  of  young  Lord 
Bothwell,  and  to  have  him  on  the  spot  when  she  should  dis- 
cover herself  to  Wallace,  she  thought  would  only  invite  dis- 
comfiture. Affecting  to  share  the  general  anxiety  respecting 
the  failure  of  communications  from  the  north,  she  it  was  who 
had  suggested  the  propriety  of  sending  some  one  of  peculiar 
trust  to  make  inquiries.  By  covert  insinuations,  she  easily 
induced  Ker  to  propose  Bothwell  to  Wallace,  and,  on  the  very 
night  that  her  machinations  had  prevailed  to  despatch  him 
on  this  embassy,  impatient,  yet  doubting  and  agitated,  she 
went  to  declare  herself  to  the  man  for  whom  she  had  thus 
sunk  herself  in  shame  and  falsehood. 

Though  Wallace  heard  the  denunciation  with  which  she  left 
his  presence,  yet  he  did  not  conceive  it  was  more  than  the 
evanescent  rage  of  disappointed  passion,  and,  anticipating  per- 
secutions, rather  from  her  love  than  her  revenge,  he  was 
relieved,  and  not  alarmed,  by  the  intelligence  that  the  Knight 
of  the  Green  Plume  had  really  taken  his  departure.  More 
delicate  of  Lady  Mar's  honor  than  she  was  of  her  own,  when 
he  met  Edwin  at  the  works,  he  silently  acquiesced  in  his  belief 
also,  that  their  late  companion  was  gone  with  despatches  to 
the  regent  who  was  now  removed  to  Stirling. 

After  frequent  sallies  from  the  garrison  in  which  the  South- 
rons were  always  beaten  back  with  great  loss,  the  lines  of 
circumvallation  were  at  last  finished,  and  Wallace  hourly  an- 
ticipated the  surrender  of  the  enemy.  Reduced  for  want  of 
provisions,  and  seeing  all  succors  cut  off  by  the  seizure  of  the 
fleet,  the  inhabitants,  detesting  their  new  rulers,  collected  in 
bands,  and  lying  in  wait  for  the  soldiers  of  the  garrison  mur- 
dered them  secretly  and  in  great  numbers.  But  here  the  evil 
did  not  end;  for  by  the  punishments  which  the  governor 
thought  proper  to  inflict  by  lots  on  the  guilty  or  the  guiltless 
(he  not  being  able  to  discover  who  were  actually  the  assassins), 
the  distress  of  the  town  was  augmented  to  a  horrible  degree. 
Such  a  state  of  things  could  not  be  long  maintained.  Aware 
that  should  he  continue  in  the  fortress  his  troops  must  assur- 
edly perish  either  by  insurrection  within  or  from  the  enemy 
without,  the  Southron  commander  determined  no  longer  to 
wait  the  appearance  of  a  relief  which  might  never  arrive,  and 
to  stop  the  internal  confusion  he  sent  a  flag  of  truce  to  Wai- 


THE    CAMP.  223 

lace,  accepting  and  signing  his  offered  terms  of  capitulation. 
By  this  deed  he  engaged  to  open  the  gates  at  sunset,  but 
begged  the  interval  between  noon  and  that  hour  to  allow  him 
time  to  settle  the  animosity  between  his  men  and  the  people, 
before  he  should  surrender  his  brave  followers  entirely  into 
the  hands  of  the  Scots. 

Having  despatched  his  assent  to  this  request  of  the  govern- 
or's Wallace  retired  to  his  own  tent.  That  he  had  effected 
his  purpose  without  the  carnage  which  must  have  ensued  had 
he  again  stormed  the  place  gratified  his  humanity,  and  con- 
gratulating himself  on  such  a  termination  of  the  siege,  he 
turned  with  more  than  usual  cheerfulness  towards  a  herald 
who  brought  him  a  packet  from  the  north.  The  man  withdrew 
and  Wallace  broke  the  seal ;  but  what  was  his  astonishment 
to  find  it  a  citation  for  himself  to  repair  immediately  to  Stirling, 
"to  answer,"  it  said,  "certain  charges  brought  against  him  by 
an  authority  too  illustrious  to  be  set  aside  without  examina- 
tion." He  had  hardly  read  this  extraordinary  mandate,  when 
Sir  Simon  Eraser,  his  second  in  command,  entered,  and  with 
consternation  in  his  looks,  put  an  open  letter  into  his  hand.  It 
ran  as  follows : 

SIR  SIMON  FRASER  :  Allegations  of  treason  against  the  liberties  of 
Scotland  having  been  preferred  against  Sir  William  Wallace,  until  he 
clears  himself  of  these  charges  to  the  abthanes  of  Scotland  here  assembled, 
you,  Sir  Simon  Eraser,  are  directed  to  assume  in  his  stead  the  command 
of  the  forces  which  form  the  blockade  of  Berwick ;  and  as  the  first  act  of 
your  duty,  you  are  ordered  to  send  the  accused  towards  Stirling  under  a 
strong  guard,  within  an  hour  after  you  receive  this  despatch. 

(Signed)  JOHN  CUMMIN, 

Earl  of  Hadenoch,  Lord  Regent  of  Scotland. 

STIRLING  CASTLE. 

Wallace  returned  the  letter  to  Eraser,  with  an  undisturbed 
countenance.  "  I  have  received  a  similar  order  from  the  regent," 
said  he,  "  and  though  I  cannot  guess  the  source  whence  these 
accusations  spring  I  fear  not  to  meet  them,  and  shall  require 
no  guard  to  speed  me  forward  to  the  scene  of  my  defence.  I 
am  ready  to  go,  my  friend,  and  happy  to  resign  the  brave  garri- 
son that  has  just  surrendered  to  your  honor  and  lenity."  Eraser 
answered  that  he  should  be  emulous  to  follow  his  example  in 
all  things,  and  to  abide  by  his  agreements  with  the  Southron 
governor.  He  then  retired  to  prepare  the  army  for  the  depart- 
ure of  their  commander,  and  much  against  his  feelings  to  call 
out  the  escort  that  was  to  attend  the  calumniated  chief  to 
Stirling. 


224  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

When  the  marshal  of  the  army  read  to  the  officers  and  men 
the  orders  of  the  regent,  a  speechless  consternation  seized  on 
one  part  of  the  troops,  and  as  violent  an  indignation  agitated 
the  other  to  tumult.  The  veterans  who  had  followed  the  chief 
of  Ellerslie,  from  the  first  hour  of  his  appearing  as  a  patriot 
in  arms,  could  not  brook  this  aspersion  upon  their  leader's 
honor,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  vehement  exhortations  of 
the  no  less  incensed,  though  more  moderate,  Scrymgeour  and 
Lockhart,  they  would  have  risen  in  instant  revolt.  Though 
persuaded  to  sheathe  their  half-drawn  swords,  they  could  not 
be  withheld  from  immediately  quitting  the  field  and  marching 
directly  to  Wallace's  tent.  He  was  conversing  with  Edwin 
when  they  arrived,  and,  in  some  measure,  he  had  broken  the 
shock  to  him  of  so  dishonoring  a  charge  on  his  friend,  by  his 
being  the  first  to  communicate  it.  While  Edwin  strove  to 
guess  who  could  be  the  inventor  of  so  dire  a  falsehood  against 
the  truest  of  Scots,  he  awakened  an  alarm  in  Wallace  for 
Bruce,  which  could  not  be  excited  for  himself,  by  suggesting 
that  perhaps  some  intimation  had  been  given  to  the  most 
ambitious  of  the  abthanes  respecting  the  arrival  of  their  right- 
ful prince.  "  And  yet,"  returned  Wallace,  "  I  cannot  altogether 
suppose  that,  for  even  their  desires  of  self-aggrandizement 
could  not  torture  my  share  in  Bruce's  restoration  to  his  coun- 
try into  anything  like  treason.  Our  friend's  rights  are  too 
undisputed  for  that,  and  all  I  should  dread  by  a  premature 
discovery  of  his  being  in  Scotland  would  be  secret  machina- 
tions against  his  life.  There  are  men  in  this  land  who  might 
attempt  it,  and  it  is  our  duty,  my  dear  Edwin,  to  suffer  death 
upon  the  rack  rather  than  betray  our  knowledge  of  him.  But," 
added  he  with  a  smile,  "  we  need  not  disturb  ourselves  with 
such  thoughts ;  the  regent  is  in  our  prince's  confidence,  and  did 
this  accusation  relate  to  him,  he  would  not,  on  such  a  plea, 
have  arraigned  me  as  a  traitor." 

Edwin  again  revolved  in  his  mind  the  nature  of  the  charge, 
and  who  the  villain  could  be  who  had  made  it,  and,  at  last, 
suddenly  recollecting  the  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume,  he  asked 
if  it  were  not  possible  that  he,  a  stranger,  who  had  so  sedu- 
lously kept  himself  from  being  known,  might  be  the  traitor. 
"  I  must  confess  to  you,"  continued  Edwin, "  that  this  knight, 
who  ever  appeared  to  dislike  your  closest  friends,  seems  to  me 
the  most  probable  instigator  of  this  mischief,  and  is,  perhaps, 
the  author  of  the  strange  failure  of  communication  between 
you  and  Bruce.  Accounts  have  not  arrived  even  since  Both- 
well  went,  and  that  is  more  than  natural.  Though  brave  in  his 


THE    CAMP.  225 

deeds,  this  unknown  may  prove  only  the  more  subtle  spy  and 
agent  of  our  enemies." 

Wallace  changed  color  at  these  suggestions,  but  merely 
replied,  "  A  few  hours  will  decide  your  suspicion,  for  I  shall  lose 
no  time  in  confronting  my  accuser."  —  "I  go  with  you,"  said 
Edwin  ;  "  never  while  I  live  will  I  consent  to  lose  sight  of  you 
again." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  tumultuous  approach  of  the 
Lanark  veterans  was  heard  from  without.  The  whole  band 
rushed  into  the  tent,  and  Stephen  Ireland,  who  was  foremost, 
raising  his  voice  above  the  rest,  exclaimed,  "  They  are  the 
traitors,  my  lord,  who  accuse  you !  It  is  determined  by  our 
corrupted  thanes  that  Scotland  shall  be  sacrificed,  and  you  are 
to  be  made  the  first  victim.  Think  they,  then,  that  we  will 
obey  such  parricides  ?  Lead  us  on,  thou  only  worthy  of  the 
name  of  regent,  and  we  will  hurl  these  usurpers  from  their 
thrones." 

This  demand  was  reiterated  by  every  man  present,  was 
echoed  by  hundreds  who  surrounded  the  tent.  The  Bothwell- 
men  and  Ramsay's  followers  joined  the  men  of  Lanark,  and 
the  mutiny  against  the  orders  of  the  regent  became  general. 
Wallace  walked  out  into  the  open  field,  and  mounting  his 
horse  rode  forth  amongst  them.  At  sight  of  him  the  air  re- 
sounded with  acclamations  unceasingly  proclaiming  him  their 
only  leader,  but  stretching  out  his  arm  to  them  in  »token  of 
silence  they  became  profoundly  still.  "  My  friends  and  brother 
soldiers,"  cried  he,  "  as  you  value  the  honor  of  William  Wal- 
lace—  as  you  have  hitherto  done  at  this  moment,  yield  him  im- 
plicit obedience."  —  "  Forever  !  "  shouted  the  Bothwell-men. 
"  We  never  will  obey  any  other,"  rejoined  his  faithful  Lanark 
followers,  and  with  an  increased  uproar  they  demanded  to  be 
led  to  Stirling.  His  extended  hand  again  stilled  the  storm, 
and  he  resumed :  "  You  shall  go  with  me  to  Stirling,  but  as  my 
friends  only ;  never  as  the  enemies  of  the  regent  of  Scotland. 
I  am  charged  with  treason ;  it  is  his  duty  to  try  me  by  the 
laws  of  my  country ;  it  is  mine  to  submit  to  the  inquisition. 
I  fear  it  not,  and  I  invite  you  to  accompany  me,  not  to  brand 
me  with  infamy,  by  passing  between  my  now  darkened  honor 
and  the  light  of  justice  ;  not  to  avenge  an  iniquitous  sentence 
denounced  on  a  guiltless  man,  but  to  witness  my  acquittal,  and 
in  that  my  triumph  over  them,  who  through  rny  breast  would 
strike  at  what  is  greater  than  I." 

At  this  mild  persuasive  every  upraised  sword  dropped  be- 
fore him,  and  Wallace,  turning  his  horse  into  the  path  which 

VOL.  II.  — 15 


226  THE   SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

led  towards  Stirling,  his  men,  with  a  silent  determination  to 
share  the  fate  of  their  master,  fell  into  regular  marching  order 
and  followed  him.  Edwin  rode  by  his  side,  equally  wondering 
at  the  unaffected  composure  with  which  he  sustained  such  a 
weight  of  insult,  and  at  the  men  who  could  be  so  unjust  as  to 
lay  it  upon  him. 

At  the  west  of  the  camp,  the  detachment  appointed  to  guard 
Wallace  in  his  arrest  came  up  with  him.  It  was  with  diffi- 
culty that  Eraser  could  find  an  officer  who  would  command  it, 
and  he  who  did  at  last  consent,  appeared  before  bis  prisoner 
with  downcast  eyes,  seeming  rather  the  culprit  than  the  guard. 
Wallace  observing  his  confusion  said  a  few  gracious  words  to 
him,  and  the  officer  more  overcome  by  this  than  he  could  have 
been  with  reproaches,  burst  into  tears,  and  retired  into  the 
rear  of  his  men. 


CHAPTER   LXXII. 

STIRLING    CASTLE. 

WALLACE  entered  on  the  Carse  of  Stirling,  that  scene  of 
his  many  victories,  and  beheld  its  northern  horizon  white  with 
tents.  Officers  appointed  for  the  purpose  had  apprised  the 
abthanes  of  Wallace  having  left  Berwick,  and  knowing  by  the 
same  means  all  his  movements,  an  armed  cavalcade  met  him 
near  the  Carron,  to  hold  his  followers  in  awe,  and  to  conduct 
him  without  opposition  to  Stirling.  In  case  it  should  be  in- 
sufficient to  quail  their  spirit  or  to  intimidate  him  who  had 
never  yet  been  made  to  fear  by  mortal  man,  the  regent  had 
summoned  all  the  vassals  of  the  various  seigniories  of  Cummin, 
and  planted  them  in  battle  array  before  the  walls  of  Stirling 
But  whether  they  were  friends  or  foes  was  equally  indifferent 
to  Wallace,  for  strong  in  integrity,  he  went  securely  forward 
to  his  trial ;  and  though  inwardly  marvelling  at  such  a  panoply 
of  war  being  called  out  to  induce  him  to  comply  with  so 
simple  an  act  of  obedience  to  the  laws,  he  met  the  heralds  of 
the  regent  with  as  much  ease  as  if  they  had  been  coming  to 
congratulate  him  on  the  capitulation  of  Berwick,  the  ratifica- 
tion of  which  he  brought  in  his  hand. 

By  his  order  his  faithful  followers  (who  took  a  pride  in 
obeying  with  the  most  scrupulous  exactness  the  injunctions  of 
their  now  deposed  commander)  encamped  under  Sir  Alexander 
Scrymgeour  to  the  north-west  of  the  castle,  near  Ballochgeicii. 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  227 

It  was  then  night.  In  the  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  Wallace 
was  summoned  before  the  council  in  the  citadel. 

On  his  ree'ntrance  into  that  room  which  he  had  left  the  dic- 
tator of  the  kingdom,  when  every  knee  bent  and  every  head 
bowed  to  his  supreme*  mandate,  he  found  not  one  who  even 
greeted  his  appearance  with  the  commonest  ceremony  of  cour- 
tesy. Badenoch,  the  regent,  sat  upon  the  throne  with  evident 
symptoms  of  being  yet  an  invalid.  •  The  Lords  Athol  and 
Buchan,  and  the  numerous  chiefs  of  the  clans  of  Cummin,  were 
seated  on  his  right ;  on  his  left  were  arranged  the  Earls  of 
Fife  and  Lorn,  Lord  Soulis,  and  every  Scottish  baron  of  power 
who  at  any  time  had  shown  himself  hostile  to  Wallace. 
Others  who  were  of  easy  faith  to  a  tale  of  malice  sat  with 
them,  and  the  rest  of  the  assembly  was  filled  up  with  men  of 
better  families  than  personal  fame,  and  whose  names  swelled 
a  list  without  adding  any  true  importance  to  the  side  on  which 
they  appeared.  A  few,  and  those  a  very  few,  who  still  re- 
spected Wallace  were  present,  not  because  they  were  sent  for 
(great  care  having  been  taken  not  to  summon  his  friends),  but 
in  consequence  of  a  rumor  of  the  charge  having  reached  them ; 
and  these  were  the  Lords  Lennox  and  Loch-awe,  with  Kirk- 
patrick  and  two  or  three  chieftains  from  the  western  High- 
lands. None  of  them  had  arrived  till  Within  a  few  minutes  of 
the  council  being  opened,  and  Wallace  was  entering  at  one 
door  as  they  appeared  at  the  other. 

At  sight  of  him  a  low  whisper  buzzed  through  the  hall,  and 
a  marshal  took  the  plumed  bonnet  from  his  hand,  which  out 
of  respect  to  the  nobility  of  Scotland  he  had  raised  from  his 
head  at  his  entrance.  A  herald  meanwhile  proclaimed  in  a 
loud  voice,  "  Sir  William  Wallace,  you  are  charged  with  trea- 
son, and  by  an  ordinance  of  Fergus  the  First,  you  must  stand 
uncovered  before  the  representative  of  the  majesty  of  Scot- 
land until  that  loyalty  be  proved  which  would  again  restore 
you  to  a  seat  amongst  her  faithful  barons." 

Wallace,  with  the  same  equanimity  as  that  with  which  he 
would  have  mounted  the  regal  chair,  bowed  his  head  to  the 
marshal  in  token  of  acquiescence  ;  but  Edwin,  whose  indigna- 
tion was  reawakened  at  this  exclusion  of  his  friend  from  the 
privilege  of  his  birth,  said  something  so  warm  to  the  marshal 
that  Wallace,  in  a  low  voice,  was  obliged  to  check  his  vehe- 
mence by  a  declaration  that  however  obsolete  the  custom,  and 
revived  in  his  case  only,  it  was  his  determination  to  submit 
himself  in  every  respect  to  whatever  was  exacted  of  him  by 
the  laws  of  his  country. 


228  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

On  Loch-awe  and  Lennox  observing  him  stand  thus  before 
the  bonneted  and  seated  chiefs  (a  stretch  of  magisterial  pre- 
rogative which  had  not  been  exercised  on  a  Scottish  knight 
for  many  a  century),  they  took  off  their  caps,  and,  bowing  to 
Wallace,  refused  to  occupy  their  places  on  the  benches  while 
the  defender  of  Scotland  stood.  Kirkpatrick  drew  eagerly 
towards  him,  and  throwing  down  his  casque  and  sword  at  his 
feet,  cried  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Lie  there  till  the  only  true  man 
in  all  this  land  commands  me  to  take  ye  up  in  his  defence. 
He  alone  had  courage  to  look  the  Southrons  in  the  face,  and 
to  drive  their  king  over  the  borders  while  his  present  accusers 
skulked  in  their  chains."  Wallace  regarded  this  ebullition 
from  the  heart  of  the  honest  veteran  with  a  look  that  was 
eloquent  to  all.  He  would  have  animatedly  praised  such  an 
instance  of  fearless  gratitude  expressed  to  another,  and  when 
it  was  directed  to  himself,  his  ingenuous  soul  showed  approba- 
tion in  every  feature  of  his  beaming  countenance. 

"  Is  it  thus,  presumptuous  Knight  of  Ellerslie,"  cried 
Soulis,  "  that  by  your  looks  you  dare  encourage  contumely  to 
the  lord  regent  and  his  peers  ?  "  Wallace  did  not  deign  him 
an  answer,  but  turning  calmly  towards  the  throne,  "  Repre- 
sentative of  my  king//  said  he,  "  in  duty  to  the  power  whose 
authority  you  wear,  I  have  obeyed  your  summons,  and  I  here 
await  the  appearance  of  the  accuser  who  has  had  the  hardi- 
hood to  brand  the  name  of  William  Wallace  with  disloyalty  to 
prince  or  people." 

The  regent  was  embarrassed.  He  did  not  suffer  his  eyes 
to  meet  those  of  Wallace,  but  looked  down  in  manifest  confu- 
sion during  this  address ;  and  then,  without  reply,  turned  to 
Lord  Athol  and  called  on  him  to  open  the  charge.  Athol 
required  not  a  second  summons ;  he  rose  immediately,  and,  in 
a  bold  and  positive  manner,  accused  Wallace  of  having  been 
won  over  by  Philip  of  France  to  sell  those  rights  of  suprem- 
acy to  him  which,  with  a  feigned  patriotism,  his  sword  had 
wrested  from  the  grasp  of  England.  For  this  treachery,  Philip 
was  to  endow  him  with  the  sovereignty  of  Scotland  ;  and,  as  a 
pledge  of  the  compact,  he  had  invested  him  with  the  principal- 
ity of  Gascony,  in  France.  "  This  is  the  ground-work  of  his 
treason,"  continued  Athol ;  "  but  the  superstructure  is  to  be 
cemented  with  our  blood.  I  have  seen  a  list  in  his  own  hand- 
writing of  those  chiefs  whose  lives  are  to  pave  his  way  to  the 
throne." 

At  this  point  of  the  charge  Edwin  sprang  forward;  but 
Wallace,  perceiving  the  intent  of  his  movement,  caught  him  by 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  229 

the  arm  and,  by  a  look,  reminded  him  of  his  recently  repeated 
engagement  to  keep  silent. 

"  Produce  the  list,"  cried  Lord  Lennox.  "  No  evidence  that 
does  not  bring  proof  to  our  eyes  ought  to  have  any  weight 
with  us  against  the  man  who  has  bled  in  every  vein  for  Scot- 
land." —  "  It  shall  be  brought  to  your  eyes,"  returned  Athol ; 
"  that,  and  other  damning  proofs,  shall  convince  this  credulous 
country  of  its  abused  confidence."  —  "I  see  these  damning 
proofs  now,"  cried  Kirkpatrick,  who  had  frowningly  listened 
to  Athol;  "the  abusers  of  my  country's  confidence  betray 
themselves  at  this  moment  by  their  eagerness  to  impeach  her 
friends ;  and  I  pray  Heaven  that  before  they  mislead  others 
into  so  black  a  conspiracy,  the  lie  in  their  throats  may  choke 
its  inventors  ! "  —  "  We  all  know,"  cried  Athol,  turning  on  Kirk- 
patrick, "to  whom  you  belong.  You  were  bought  with  the 
shameless  grant  to  mangle  the  body  of  the  slain  Cressingham,  — 
a  deed  which  has  brought  a  stigma  on  the  Scottish  name 
never  to  be  erased  but  by  the  disgrace  of  its  perpetrators.  For 
this  savage  triumph  did  you  sell  yourself  to  William  Wallace ; 
and  a  bloody  champion  you  are,  always  ready  for  your  secretly 
murderous  master.", 

"  Hear  you  this  and  bear  it  ?  "  cried  Kirkpatrick  and  Edwin 
in  one  breath,  and  grasping  their  daggers,  Edwin's  flashed  in 
his  hand.  "  Seize  them !  "  cried  Athol ;  "  my  life  is  threatened 
by  his  myrmidons."  Marshals  instantly  approached;  but 
Wallace,  who  had  hitherto  stood  in  silent  dignity,  turned  to 
them,  with  that  tone  of  justice  which  had  ever  commanded 
from  his  lips,  and  bade  them  forbear.  "  Touch  these  knights 
at  your  peril,  marshals  ! "  said  he.  "  No  man  in  this  chamber 
is  above  the  laws,  and  they  protect  every  Scot  who  resents 
unjust  aspersions  upon  his  own  character,  or  irrelevant  and 
prejudicing  attacks  on  that  of  an  arraigned  friend.  It  is  before 
the  majesty  of  the  law  that  I  now  stand ;  but  were  injury  to 
usurp  its  place,  not  all  the  lords  in  Scotland  should  detain  me 
a  moment  in  a  scene  so  unworthy  of  my  country."  The  mar- 
shals retreated,  for  they  had  been  accustomed  to  regard  with 
implicit  deference  the  opinion  of  Sir  William  Wallace  on  the 
laws ;  and  though  he  now  stood  in  the  light  of  their  violator, 
yet  memory  bore  testimony  that  he  had  always  read  them 
aright,  and  to  this  hour  had  ever  appeared  to  make  them  the 
guide  of  his  actions. 

Athol  saw  that  none  in  the  assembly  had  courage  to  enforce 
this  act  of  violence,  and,  blazing  with  fury,  he  poured  his 
whole  wrath  upon  Wallace.  "  Imperious,  arrogant  traitor ! " 


230  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

cried  he ;  "  this  presumption  only  deepens  our  impression  of 
your  guilt !  Demean  yourself  with  more  reverence  to  this 
august  court,  or  expect  to  be  sentenced  on  the  proof  which 
such  insolence  amply  gives.  We  require  no  other  to  proclaim 
your  domineering  spirit,  and  at  once  to  condemn  you  as  the 
premeditated  tyrant  of  our  land."  —  "Lord  Athol,"  replied 
Wallace,  "  what  is  just  I  would  say  in  the  face  of  all  the 
courts  in  Christendom.  It  is  not  in  the  power  of  man  to  make 
me  silent  when  I  see  the  laws  of  my  country  outraged  and  my 
countrymen  oppressed.  Though  I  may  submit  my  own  cheek 
to  the  blow,  I  will  not  permit  theirs  to  share  the  stroke.  I 
have  answered  you,  earl,  to  this  point,  and  am  ready  to  hear 
you  to  the  end." 

Athol  resumed :  "  I  am  not  your  only  accuser,  proudly  con- 
fident man;  you  shall  see  one  whose  truth  cannot  be  doubted, 
and  whose  first  glance  will  bow  that  haughty  spirit  and  cover 
that  bold  front  with  the  livery  of  shame.  My  lord,"  cried  he, 
turning  to  the  regent,  "  I  shall  bring  a  most  illustrious  wit- 
ness before  you,  one  who  will  prove  on  oath  that  it  was  the 
intention  of  this  arch-hypocrite,  this  angler  for  women's 
hearts,  this  perverter  of  men's  understandings,  before  an- 
other moon,  to  bury  deep  in  blood  the  very  people  whom  he 
now  insidiously  affects  to  protect.  But  to  open  your  and  the 
nation's  eyes  at  once,  to  overwhelm  him  with  his  fate,  I  now 
call  forth  the  evidence." 

The  marshals  opened  a  door  in  the  side  of  the  hall  and  led 
a  lady  forward,  habited  in  regal  splendor,  and  covered  from 
head  to  foot  with  a  veil  of  so  transparent  a  texture  that  her 
costly  apparel  and  majestic  contour  were  distinctly  seen 
through  it.  She  was  conducted  to  a  chair  on  an  elevated  plat- 
form, a  few  paces  from  where  Wallace  stood.  On  her  being 
seated,  the  regent  rose,  and  in  a  tremulous  voice  addressed 
her : 

"  Joanna,  Countess  of  Strathearn  and  Mar,  Princess  of  the 
Orkneys,  we  adjure  thee  by  thy  princely  dignity,  and  in  the 
name  of  the  King  of  kings,  to  bear  a  just  witness  to  the  truth 
or  falsehood  of  the  charges  of  treason  and  conspiracy  now 
brought  against  Sir  William  Wallace." 

The  name  of  his  accuser  made  Wallace  start,  and  the  sight 
of  her  unblushing  face  —  for  she  threw  aside  her  veil  the 
moment  she  was  addressed,  —  overspread  his  cheek  with  a  tinge 
of  that  shame  for  her  which  she  was  now  too  hardened  in 
determined  crime  to  feel  herself.1  Edwin  gazed  at  her  in 

1  The  treasonable  crimes  of  this  wicked  woman  are  truly  verified  in  the  Scottish 
history. 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  231 

speechless  horror,  while  she,  casting  a  glance  on  Wallace,  in 
which  the  full  purpose  of  her  soul  was  declared,  turned,  with 
a  softened  though  majestic  air,  to  the  regent,  and  spoke: 

"My  lord,"  said  she,  "you  see  before  you  a  woman  who 
never  knew  what  it  was  to  feel  a  self-reproachful  pang  till  an 
evil  hour  brought  her  to  receive  an  obligation  from  that  in- 
sidious, treacherous  man.  But  as  my  first  passion  has  ever 
been  the  love  of  my  country,  I  will  prove  it  to  this  good 
assembly,  by  making  a  confession  of  what  was  once  my  heart's 
weakness,  and  by  that  candor  I  trust  they  will  fully  honor 
the  rest  of  my  narrative." 

A  clamor  of  approbation  resounded  through  the  hall.  Len- 
nox and  Loch-awe  looked  on  each  other  with  amazement. 
Kirkpatrick,  recollecting  the  scenes  at  Dumbarton,  exclaimed, 
"  Jezebel ! "  but  the  ejaculation  was  lost  in  the  general  burst 
of  applause ;  and  the  countess,  opening  a  folded  paper  which 
she  held  in  her  hand,  in  a  calm,  collected  voice,  but  with  a 
flushing  cheek,  resumed : 

"I  shall  read  my  further  deposition.  I  have  written  it, 
that  my  memory  might  not  err,  and  that  my  country  may  be 
unquestionably  satisfied  of  the  accuracy  of  every  syllable  I 
utter." 

She  paused  an  instant,  drew  a  quick  breath,  and  proceeded 
reading  from  the  paper,  thus  (but  as  occasions  occurred  for 
particularly  pointing  its  contents,  she  turned  her  tutored  eye 
upon  the  object,  to  look  a  signet  on  her  mischief) : 

"  I  am  not  to  tell  you,  my  lord,  that  Sir  William  Wallace 
twice  released  the  late  Earl  of  Mar  and  myself  from  Southron 
captivity.  Our  deliverer  was  what  you  see  him,  fraught  with 
attractions  which  he  too  successfully  directed  against  the 
peace  of  a  young  woman  married  to  a  man  of  paternal  years. 
While  to  all  the  rest  of  the  world  he  seemed  to  consecrate 
himself  to  the  memory  of  his  ill-fated  wife,  to  me  alone  he  un- 
veiled his  straying  heart.  I  revered  my  nuptial  vow  too 
sincerely  to  listen  to  him  with  the  complacency  he  wished; 
but  I  blush  to  own  that  his  tears,  his  agonies  of  love,  his  manly 
graces,  and  the  virtues  I  believed  he  possessed  (for  well  he 
knows  to  feign),  cooperating  with  my  gratitude,  at  last  wrought 
such  a  change  in  my  breast  that  I  became  wretched.  No 
guilty  wish  was  there,  but  an  admiration  of  him,  a  pity  which 
undermined  my  health  and  left  me  miserable.  I  forbade  him 
to  approach  me.  I  tried  to  wrest  him  from  my  memory,  and 
nearly  had  succeeded  when  I  was  informed  by  my  late  hus- 
band's ^nephew  (the  youth  who  now  stands  beside  Sir  William 


232  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Wallace)  that  he  was  returned  under  an  assumed  name  from 
France.  Then  I  feared  that  all  my  inward  struggles  were  to 
recommence.  I  had  once  conquered  myself  for  abhorring  the 
estrangement  of  my  thoughts  from  my  wedded  lord.  When  he 
died  I  only  yearned  to  appease  my  conscience,  and,  in  penance 
for  my  involuntary  crime,  I  refused  Sir  William  Wallace  my 
hand.  His  return  to  Scotland  filled  me  with  tumults  which 
only  they  who  would  sacrifice  all  they  prize  to  a  sense  of  duty 
can  know.  Edwin  Ruthven  left  me  at  Hunting-tower,  and 
that  very  evening,  while  walking  alone  in  the  garden,  I  was 
surprised  by  the  sudden  approach  of  an  armed  man.  He 
threw  a  scarf  over  my  head  to  prevent  my  screams,  but  I 
fainted  with  terror.  He  then  took  me  from  the  garden  by  the 
way  he  had  entered,  and  placing  me  on  a  horse  before  him, 
earned  me  whither  I  know  not ;  but  on  my  recovery  I  found 
myself  in  a  chamber  with  a  woman  standing  beside  me  and  the 
same  warrior.  His  visor  was  so  closed  that  I  could  not  see 
his  face.  On  my  expressing  alarm  at  my  situation,  he  ad- 
dressed me  in  French,  telling  me  he  had  provided  a  man  to 
carry  an  excuse  to  Hunting-tower  to  prevent  pursuit,  and  then 
he  put  a  letter  into  my  hand  which  he  said  he  brought  from 
Sir  William  Wallace.  Anxious  to  know  the  purpose  of  this 
act,  and  believing  that  a  man  who  had  sworn  to  me  devoted 
love  could  not  premeditate  a  more  serious  outrage,  I  broke 
the  seal  and,  nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  read  to  this  effect : 

"  That  his  passion  was  so  imperious  he  had  determined  to 
make  me  his  in  spite  of  those  sentiments  of  female  delicacy 
which,  while  they  tortured  him,  rendered  me  dearer  in  his 
eyes.  He  told  me  that  as  he  had  often  read  in  my  blushes  the 
sympathy  which  my  too  severe  virtue  made  me  conceal,  he 
would  now  wrest  me  from  my  cheerless  widowhood,  and  hav- 
ing nothing  in  reality  to  reproach  myself  with,  compel  me  to  be 
happy.  His  friend,  the  only  confidant  of  his  love,  had  brought 
me  to  a  spot  whence  I  could  not  fly ;  there  I  should  remain  till 
he,  Wallace,  could  leave  the  army  for  a  few  days,  and,  throw- 
ing himself  on  my  compassion  and  tenderness,  be  received  as 
the  most  faithful  of  lovers,  the  fondest  of  husbands. 

"This  letter,"  continued  the  countess,  "was  followed  by 
many  others,  and  suffice  it  to  say  that  the  latent  affection  in 
my  heart,  and  his  subduing  love,  were  too  powerful  in  his 
cause.  How  his  letters  were  conveyed  I  know  not,  but  they 
were  duly  presented  to  me  by  the  woman  who  attended  me. 
At  last  the  knight  who  had  brought  me  to  the  place,  and  who 
wore  green  armor  and  a  green  plume,  reappeared."  —  "  Pro- 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  233 

digious  villain  !  "  broke  from  the  lips  of  Edwin.  The  countess 
turned  her  eye  on  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  resumed  :  "  He 
was  the  warrior  who  had  borne  me  from  Hunting-tower,  and 
from  that  hour  until  the  period  I  now  speak  of  I  had  never 
seen  him.  He  put  another  packet  into  my  hand,  desiring  me 
to  peruse  it  with  attention,  and  return  Sir  William  Wallace  a 
verbal  answer  by  him.  '  Yes  '  was  all  he  required.  I  retired 
bo  open  it,  and  what  was  my  horror  when  I  read  a  perfect  de- 
velopment of  the  treasons  for  which  he  is  now  brought  to 
account.  By  some  mistake  of  my  character  he  had  conceived 
me  to  be  ambitious;  and  knowing  himself  to  be  the  master  of 
my  heart,  he  fancied  himself  lord  of  my  conscience  also.  He 
wrote,  that  until  he  saw  me  he  had  no  other  end  in  his  exer- 
tions for  Scotland  than  her  rescue  from  a  foreign  yoke ;  *  but/ 
added  he,  'from  the  moment  in  which  I  first  beheld  my  adored 
Joanna,  I  aspired  to  place  a  crown  on  her  brows.'  He  then 
told  me  that  he  did  not  deem  the  time  of  its  presentation  to 
him  on  the  Carse  of  Stirling  a  safe  juncture  for  its  acceptance ; 
neither  was  he  tempted  to  run  the  risk  of  maintaining  an  un- 
steady throne  when  I  was  not  free  to  partake  it;  but  since  the 
death  of  Lord  Mar  every  wish,  every  hope,  was  reawakened, 
and  then  he  determined  to  become  a  king.  Philip  of  France 
had  made  secret  articles  with  him  to  that  end.  He  was  to 
hold  Scotland  of  him.  While  to  make  the  surrender  of  his 
country's  independence  sure  to  Philip,  and  its  sceptre  to  him- 
self and  his  posterity,  he  attempted  to  persuade  me  there  would 
be  no  crime  in  destroying  the  chiefs  whose  names  he  enrolled 
in  this  list.  The  Pope,  he  added,  would  absolve  me  from  a 
transgression  dictated  by  connubial  duty ;  and  on  our  bridal 
day  he  proposed  the  deed  should  be  done.  He  would  invite 
all  these  lords  to  a  feast,  and  poison  or  the  dagger  should  lay 
them  at  his  feet. 

"  So  impious  a  proposal  restored  me  to  myself.  My  love  at 
once  turned  to  the  most  decided  abhorrence,  and  hastening  to 
the  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume  I  told  him  to  carry  my  resolu- 
tion to  his  master:  that  I  would  never  see  him  more  till  I 
should  appear  as  his  accuser  before  the  tribunal  of  his  coun- 
try. The  knight  tried  to  dissuade  me  from  my  purpose,  but 
in  vain  ;  and  at  last  becoming  alarmed  at  the  punishment  which 
might  overtake  himself  as  the  agent  of  such  treason,  he  con- 
fessed to  me  that  the  scene  of  his  first  appearance  at  Linlith- 
gow  was  devised  by  Wallace,  who,  unknown  to  all  others,  had 
brought  him  from  France  to  assist  him  in  the  scheme  he  durst 
not  confide  to  Scotland's  friends.  If  I  would  guarantee  his 


234  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

life,  he  offered  to  take  me  from  the  place  where  I  was  then  con- 
fined and  convey  me  safe  to  Stirling.  All  else  that  he  asked  was 
that  I  would  allow  him  to  be  the  bearer  of  the  casket  which 
contained  Sir  William  Wallace's  letters,  and  suffer  my  eyes  to 
be  blindfolded  during  the  first  part  of  our  journey.  This  I 
consented  to,  but  the  murderous  list  I  had  undesignedly  put 
into  my  bosom.  My  head  was  again  wrapped  in  a  thick  veil, 
and  we  set  out.  It  was  very  dark,  and  we  travelled  long  and 
swiftly  till  we  came  to  a  wood.  There  was  neither  moon  nor 
stars  to  point  out  any  habitation.  But  being  overcome  with 
fatigue,  my  conductor  persuaded  me  to  dismount  and  take  rest. 
I  slept  beneath  the  trees.  In  the  morning  when  I  awoke  I  in 
vain  looked  round  for  the  knight  and  called  him  ;  he  was  gone, 
and  I  saw  him  no  more.  I  then  explored  my  way  to  Stirling, 
to  warn  my  country  of  its  danger,  to  unmask  to  the  world 
the  direst  hypocrite  that  ever  prostituted  the  name  of  virtue." 

The  countess  ceased,  and  a  hundred  voices  broke  out  at 
once,  pouring  invectives  on  the  traitorous  ambition  of  Sir  Will- 
iam Wallace,  and  invoking  the  regent  to  pass  some  signal 
condemnation  on  so  monstrous  a  crime.  In  vain  Kirkpatrick 
thundered  forth  his  indignant  soul;  he  w.as  unheard  in  the 
tumult ;  but  going  up  to  the  countess,  he  accused  her  to  her 
face  of  falsehood,  and  charged  her  with  a  design,  from  some 
really  treasonable  motive,  to  destroy  the  only  sure  hope  of  her 
country. 

"  And  will  you  not  speak  ?  "  cried  Edwin,  in  agony  of  spirit 
clasping  Wallace's  arm, —  "will  you  not  speak,  before  these  un- 
grateful men  shall  dare  to  brand  your  ever  honored  name 
with  infamy  ?  Make  yourself  be  heard,  my  noblest  friend ! 
Confute  that  wicked  woman,  who  too  surely  has  proved  what 
I  suspected,  —  that  this  self-concealing  knight  came  to  be  a 
traitor."  —  "I  will  speak,  my  Edwin,"  returned  Wallace,  aat 
the  proper  moment,  but  not  in  this  tumult  of  my  enemies. 
Rely  on  it,  your  friend  will  submit  to  no  unjust  decree." 

"  Where  is  this  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume  ? "  cried  Len- 
nox, almost  startled  in  his  opinion  of  Wallace  by  the  consist- 
ency of  the  countess's  narrative.  "No  mark  of  dishonor 
shall  be  passed  on  Sir  William  Wallace  without  the  strictest 
scrutiny.  Let  the  mysterious  stranger  be  found  and  con- 
fronted with  Lady  Strathearn."  Notwithstanding  the  earl's 
insisting  on  impartial  justice,  she  perceived  the  doubt  in  his 
countenance,  and,  eager  to  maintain  her  advantage,  replied: 
"  The  knight,  I  fear,  has  fled  beyond  our  search ;  but  that  I 
may  not  want  a  witness  to  corroborate  the  love  I  once  bore 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  235 

this  arch-hypocrite,  and,  consequently,  the  sacrifice  I  make  to 
loyalty  in  thus  unveiling  him  to  the  world,  I  call  upon  you, 
Lord  Lennox,  to  say  whether  you  did  not  observe,  at  Dumbar- 
ton Castle,  the  state  of  my  too  grateful  heart." 

Lennox,  who  well  remembered  her  conduct  in  the  citadel  of 
that  fortress,  hesitated  to  answer,  aware  that  his  reply  might 
substantiate  a  guilt  which  he  now  feared  would  be  but  too 
strongly  made  manifest.  Every  ear  hung  on  his  answer. 
Wallace  saw  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  determined  to 
allow  all  men  to  show  what  was  in  their  hearts  towards  him 
and  justice,  he  looked  towards  the  earl  and  said,  "  Do  not  hes- 
itate, my  lord;  speak  all  that  you  know,  or  think,  of  me. 
Could  the  deeds  of  my  life  be  written  on  yon  blue  vault," 
added  he,  pointing  to  the  heavens,  "and  my  breast  be  laid 
open  for  men  to  scan,  I  should  be  content ;  for  then  Scotland 
would  know  me,  as  my  Creator  knows  me,  and  the  evidence, 
which  now  makes  even  friendship  doubt,  would  meet  the  re- 
ception due  to  calumny." 

Lord  Lennox  felt  the  last  remark,  and,  stung  with  remorse 
for  having  for  a  moment  credited  anything  against  the  frank 
spirit  which  gave  him  this  permission,  he  replied :  "  To  Lady 
Strathearn's  question  I  must  answer,  that  at  Dumbarton  I  did 
perceive  her  preference  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  but  I  never 
saw  anything  in  him  to  warrant  the  idea  that  it  was  reciprocal. 
And  yet,  were  it  even  so,  that  bears  nothing  to  the  point  of 
the  countess's  accusation ;  and,  notwithstanding  her  princely 
rank  and  the  deference  all  would  pay  to  the  widow  of  Lord 
Mar,  as  true  Scots  we  cannot  relinquish  to  a  single  witness 
our  faith  in  a  man  who  has  so  eminently  served  his  country." 

"  No,"  cried  Loch-awe ;  "  if  the  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume 
be  above  ground  he  shall  be  brought  before  this  tribunal.  He 
alone  can  be  the  traitor,  and  to  destroy  us  by  exciting  sus- 
picions against  our  best  defender,  he  has  wrought  with  his 
own  false  pen  this  device  to  deceive  the  patriotic  widow  of 
the  Earl  of  Mar."  —  "No,  no!"  interrupted  she;  "I  read  the 
whole  in  his  own,  to  me  too  well-known,  handwriting;  and 
this  list  of  the  chiefs  condemned  by  yon,  indeed,  traitor  to 
die  shall  fully  evince  his  guilt.  Even  your  name,  too  gener- 
ous earl,  is  in  the  horrid  catalogue."  While  she  spoke  she 
rose  eagerly  to  hand  to  him  the  scroll. 

"  Let  me  now  speak  or  stab  me  to  the  heart,"  hastily  whis- 
pered Edwin  to  his  friend.  Wallace  did  not  withhold  him,  for 
he  guessed  what  would  be  the  remark  of  his  ardent  soul. 
"  Hear  that  woman,"  cried  the  vehement  youth  to  the  regent, 


236  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"and  say  whether  she  now  speaks  the  language  of  one  wno 
had  ever  loved  the  virtues  of  Sir  William  Wallace  ?  Were 
she  innocent  of  malice  towards  the  deliverer  of  Scotland, 
would  she  not  have  rejoiced  in  Loch-awe's  suggestion  that  the 
Green  Knight  is  the  traitor  ?  Or  if  that  scroll  she  has  now 
given  into  the  regent's  hand  be  too  nicely  forged  for  her  to 
detect  its  not  being  indeed  the  handwriting  of  the  noblest  of 
men,  would  she  not  have  shown  some  sorrow,  at  least,  at  being 
obliged  to  maintain  the  guilt  of  one  she  professes  once  to  have 
loved  ?  —  of  one  who  saved  herself,  her  husband,  and  hei 
child  from  perishing!  But  here  her  malice  has  overstepped 
her  art,  and  after  having  promoted  the  success  of  her  tale  by 
so  mingling  insignificant  truths  with  falsehoods  of  capital  im- 
port, that  in  acknowledging  the  one  we  seem  to  grant  the 
other,  she  falls  into  her  own  snare.  Even  a  beardless  boy 
can  now  discern  that  however  vile  the  Green  Knight  may  be 
she  shares  his  wickedness." 

While  Edwin  spoke  Lady  Strathearn's  countenance  under- 
went a  thousand  changes.  Twice  she  attempted  to  rise  and 
interrupt  him,  but  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick  having  fixed  his 
eyes  on  her  with  a  menacing  determination  to  prevent  her, 
she  found  herself  obliged  to  remain  quiescent.  Full  of  a-  newly 
excited  fear  that  Wallace  had  confided  to  her  nephew  the  last 
scene  in  his  tent,  she  started  up,  as  he  seemed  to  pause,  and 
with  assumed  mildness  again  addressing  the  regent,  said  that 
before  this  apparently  ingenuous  defence  could  mislead  impar- 
tial minds,  she  thought  it  just  to  inform  the  council  of  the  in- 
fatuated attachment  of  Edwin  Ruthven  to  the  accused;  for 
she  had  ample  cause  to  assert  that  the  boy  was  so  bewitched 
by  his  commander,  who  had  flattered  his  youthful  vanity 
by  loading  him  with  distinctions  only  due  to  approved  valor 
in  manhood,  that  he  was  ready  at  any  time  to  sacrifice  every 
consideration  of  truth,  reason,  and  duty  to  please  Sir  William 
Wallace. 

"  Such  may  be  in  a  boy,"  observed  Lord  Loch-awe,  inter- 
rupting her,  "but  as  I  know  no  occasion  in  which  it  is  possible 
for  Sir  William  Wallace  to  falsify  the  truth,  I  call  upon  him, 
in  justice  to  himself  and  to  his  country,  to  reply  to  three 
questions."  Wallace  bowed  to  the  venerable  earl,  and  he 
proceeded:  "Sir  William  Wallace,  are  you  guilty  of  the 
charge  brought  against  you  of  a  design  to  mount  the  throne  of 
Scotland  by  means  of  the  King  of  France  ?  " 

Wallace  replied,  "  I  never  designed  to  mount  the  throne  of 
Scotland,  either  by  ray  own  means  or  by  any  other  man's." 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  237 

Loch-awe  proceeded :  "  Was  this  scroll,  containing  the 
names  of  certain  Scottish  chiefs  noted  down  for  assassination, 
written  by  you  or  under  your  connivance  ?  " 

"  I  never  saw  the  scroll  nor  heard  of  the  scroll  until  this 
hour.  And  harder  than  death  is  the  pang  at  my  heart  when 
a  Scottish  chief  finds  it  necessary  to  ask  me  such  a  question 
regarding  a  people  to  save,  even  the  least  of  whom,  he  has  so 
often  seen  me  risk  my  life." 

"  Another  question,"  replied  Loch-awe,  "  and  then,  bravest 
of  men,  if  your  country  acquits  you  not  in  thought  and  deed, 
Campbell,:  of  Loch-awe,  sits  no  more  amongst  its  judges.  What 
is  your  knowledge  of  the  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume,  that,  in 
preference  to  any  Scottish  friend,  you  should  intrust  him  with 
your  wishes  respecting  the  Countess  of  Strathearn  ?  " 

Wallace's  answer  was  brief.  "  I  never  had  any  wishes  re- 
specting the  wife  or  the  widow  of  my  friend  the  Earl  of  Mar  that 
I  did  not  impart  to  every  chief  in  the  camp,  and  those  wishes 
went  no  further  than  for  her  safety.  As  to  love,  that  is  a 
passion  I  shall  know  no  more,  and  Lady  Strathearn  alone  can 
say  what  is  the  end  she  aims  at  by  attributing  feelings  to  me 
with  regard  to  her  which  I  never  conceived,  and  words  which 
I  never  uttered.  Like  this  passion  with  which  she  says  she 
inspired  me,"  added  he,  turning  his  eyes  steadfastly  on  her 
face,  "  was  the  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume.  You  are  all  ac- 
quainted with  the  manner  of  his  introduction  to  me  at  Lin- 
lithgow.  By  the  account  that  he  then  gave  of  himself,  you  all 
know  as  much  of  him  as  I  did,  till  on  the  night  that  he  left  me 
at  Berwick,  and  then  I  found  him,  like  the  story  of  Lady 
Strathearn,  all  a  fable." 

"  What  is  his  proper  title  ?  Name  him  on  your  knighthood," 
exclaimed  Buclian,  "  for  he  shall  yet  be  dragged  forth  to  sup- 
port the  veracity  of  my  illustrious  kinswoman,  and  to  fully 
unmask  his  insidious  accomplice." 

"  Your  kinswoman,  Earl  Buchan,"  replied  Wallace,  "  can 
best  answer  your  question." 

Lord  Athol  approached  the  regent  and  whispered  something 
in  his  ear.  This  unworthy  representative  of  the  generous  Bruce 
immediately  rose  from  his  seat.  "  Sir  William  Wallace,"  said 
he,  "  you  have  replied  to  the  questions  of  Lord  Loch-awe,  but 
where  are  your  witnesses  to  prove  that  what  you  have  spoken 
is  the  truth  ?  " 

Wallace  was  struck  with  surprise  at  this  address  from  a 
man  who,  whatever  might  be  demanded  of  him  in  the  fulfil- 
ment of  his  office,  he  believed  could  not  be  otherwise  than  his 


238  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

friend,  because,  from  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  by  Bruce 
and  himself,  he  must  be  fully  aware  of  the  impossibility  of 
these  allegations  being  true.  But  Wallace's  astonishment  was 
only  for  a  moment ;  he  now  saw,  with  an  eye  that  pierced 
through  the  souls  of  the  whole  assembly,  and  with  collected 
firmness  he  replied,  "  My  witnesses  are  in  the  bosom  of  every 
Scotsman." 

"  I  cannot  find  them  in  mine,"  interrupted  Athol. —  "Nor 
in  mine,"  was  echoed  from  various  parts  of  the  hall. 

"  Invalidate  the  facts  brought  against  you  by  legal  evidence, 
not  a  mere  rhetorical  appeal,  Sir  William  Wallace,"  added  the 
regent,  "  else  the  sentence  of  the  law  must  be  passed  on  so 
tacit  an  acknowledgment  of  guilt." 

"  Acknowledgment  of  guilt !  "  cried  Wallace,  with  a  flush  of 
god-like  indignation  suffusing  his  noble  brow.  "  If  any  one  of 
the  chiefs  who  have  just  spoken  knew  the  beat  of  an  honest 
heart  they  would  not  have  declared  that  they  heard  no  voice  pro- 
claim the  integrity  of  William  Wallace.  Let  them  look  out  on 
yon  carse,  where  they  saw  me  refuse  that  crown  offered  by 
themselves  which  my  accuser  alleges  I  would  yet  obtain  by 
their  blood.  Let  them  remember  the  banks  of  the  Clyde,  where 
I  rejected  the  Scottish  throne  offered  me  by  Edward.  Let 
these  facts  bear  witness  for  me ;  and,  if  they  be  insufficient, 
look  on  Scotland,  now,  for  the  third  time,  rescued  by  my  arm 
from  the  grasp  of  a  usurper.  That  scroll  locks  the  door  of 
the  kingdom  upon  her  enemies."  As  he  spoke  he  threw  the 
capitulation  of  Berwick  upon  the  table.  It  struck  a  pause  into 
the  minds  of  the  lords ;  they  gazed  with  pallid  countenances, 
and  without  a  word,  on  the  parchment  where  it  lay,  while  he 
proceeded :  "  If  my  actions  that  you  see  do  not  convince  you 
of  my  integrity,  then  believe  the  unsupported  evidence  of 
words,  the  tale  of  a  woman  whose  mystery,  were  it  not  for  the 
memory  of  the  honorable  man  whose  name  she  once  bore,  I 
would  publicly  unravel ;  —  believe  her,  and  leave  Wallace 
naught  of  his  country  to  remember  but  that  he  had  served  it, 
and  that  it  is  unjust." 

"  Noblest  of  Scots  ! "  cried  Loch-awe,  coming  towards  him, 
"  did  your  accuser  come  in  the  shape  of  an  angel  of  light,  still 
we  should  believe  your  life  in  preference  to  her  testimony, 
for  God  himself  speaks  on  your  side.  '  My  servants, '  he  de- 
clares, '  shall  be  known  by  their  fruits.'  And  have  not  yours 
been  peace  to  Scotland  and  good-will  to  men  ?  "  —  "  They  are 
the  serpent  folds  of  his  hypocrisy,"  cried  Athol,  alarmed  at 
the  awe-struck  looks  of  the  assembly.  —  "  They  are  the  baits 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  239 

by  which  he  cheats  fools,"  reechoed  Soulis.  —  "They  are 
snares  which  shall  catch  us  no  more,"  was  now  the  general 
exclamation.  And  in  proportion  to  the  transitory  respect 
which  had  made  them  bow,  though  but  for  a  moment,  to  virtue, 
they  now  vociferated  their  contempt  both  of  Wallace  and 
this  his  last  achievement.  Inflamed  with  rage  at  the  manifest 
determination  to  misjudge  his  commander,  and  maddened  at 
the  contumely  with  which  their  envy  affected  to  treat  him, 
Kirkpatrick  threw  off  all  restraint,  and  with  the  bitterness  of 
his  reproaches  still  more  incensed  the  jealousy  of  the  nobles 
and  augmented  the  tumult.  Lennox,  vainly  attempting  to 
make  himself  heard,  drew  towards  Wallace,  hoping  by  that 
movement  to  at- least  show  on  whose  side  he  thought  justice 
lay.  At  this  moment,  while  the  uproar  raged  with  redoubled 
clamor  —  the  one  party  denouncing  the  Cummins  as  the 
source  of  this  conspiracy  against  Wallace,  the  other  demanding 
that  sentence  should  be  instantly  passed  upon  him  as  a  traitor 
—  the  door  burst  open,  and  Both  well,  covered  with  dust,  and 
followed  by  a  throng  of  armed  knights,  rushed  into  the  centre 
of  the  hall. 

"  Who  is  it  ye  arraign  ? "  cried  the  young  chief,  looking 
indignantly  around  him.  "  Is  it  not  your  deliverer  you  would 
destroy  ?  The  Romans  could  not  accuse  the  guilty  Manlius  in 
sight  of  the  capitol  he  had  preserved ;  but  you,  worse  than 
heathens,  bring  your  benefactor  to  the  scene  of  his  victories, 
and  there  condemn  him  for  serving  you  too  well.  Has  he  not 
plucked  you,  this  third  time,  out  of  the  furnace  that  would 
have  consumed  you  ?  And  yet,  in  this  hour,  you  would  sac- 
rifice him  to  the  disappointed  passions  of  a  woman.  Falsest 
of  thy  sex ! "  cried  he,  turning  to  the  countess,  who  shrunk 
before  the  penetrating  eyes  of  Andrew  Murray,  "  do  I  not 
know  thee  ?  Have  I  not  read  thine  unfeminine,  thy  vindictive 
heart?  You  would  destroy  the  man  you  could  not  seduce. 
Wallace  ! "  cried  he,  "  speak !  Would  not  this  woman  have 
persuaded  you  to  disgrace  the  name  of  Mar  ?  When  my  uncle 
,died,  did  she  not  urge  you  to  intrigue  for  that  crown  which  she 
'knew  you  had  so  loyally  declined  ?  "  —  "  My  errand  here,"  an- 
swered Wallace,  "  is  to  defend  myself,  not  to  accuse  others.  I 
have  shown  that  I  am  innocent,  and  my  judges  will  not  look  on 
the  proofs.  They  obey  not  the  laws  in  their  judgment,  and  what- 
ever may  be  the  decree,  I  shall  not  acknowledge  its  authority." 
As  he  spoke  he  turned  away  and  walked  with  a  firm  step  out 
of  the  hall. 

His  disappearance  gave  the  signal  for  a  tumult  more  threat- 


240  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

ening  to  the  welfare  of  the  state  than  if  the  armies  of  Edward 
had  been  in  the  midst  of  them.  It  was  brother  against 
brother,  friend  against  friend.  The  Lords  Lennox,  Bothwell, 
and  Loch-awe  were  vehement  against  the  unfairness  with 
which  Sir  William  Wallace  had  been  treated.  Kirkpatrick 
declared  that  no  arguments  could  be  used  with  men  so  devoid 
of  reason ;  and  words  of  reproach  and  reviling  passing  on  all 
sides,  swords  were  fiercely  drawn.  The  Countess  of  Strath 
earn,  seeing  herself  neglected  by  even  her  friends  in  the  strife, 
and  fearful  that  the  party  of  Wallace  might  at  last  gain  the 
ascendency,  and  that  herself,  then  without  her  traitor  corselet 
on  her  breast,  might  meet  their  hasty  vengeance,  rose  ab- 
ruptly, and  giving  her  hand  to  a  herald,  hurried  out  of  the 
assembly. 


CHAPTER    LXXIIL 

BALLOCHGEICH. 

THE  marshals  with  difficulty  interrupted  the  mortal  attack 
which  the  enemies  and  friends  of  Wallace  made  on  each  other. 
Several  of  the  Cummins  were  maimed,  Lord  Athol  himself  was 
severely  wounded  by  Kirkpatrick,  but  the  treacherous  regent 
gladly  saw  that  none  on  his  side  were  hurt  unto  death.  With 
horrid  menaces  the  two  parties  separated,  the  one  to  the  re- 
gent's apartments,  the  other  to  the  camp  of  Wallace. 

Lord  Bothwell  found  him  encircled  by  his  ve-terans,  in  whose 
breasts  he  was  trying  to  allay  the  storm  raging  there  against 
the  injustice  of  the  regent  and  the  ingratitude  of  the  Scottish 
lords.  At  sight  of  the  young  and  ardent  Bothwell,  their 
clamor  to  be  led  instantly  to  revenge  the  indignity  offered  to 
their  general  redoubled,  and  Murray,  not  less  incensed,  turn- 
ing to  them,  exclaimed,  "  Yes,  my  friends,  keep  quiet  for  a 
few  hours,  and  then  what  honor  commands  we  will  do."  At 
this  assurance  they  retired  to  their  quarters,  and  Bothwell 
turned  with  Wallace  into  his  tent. 

"  Before  you  utter  a  word  concerning  the  present  scenes," 
cried  Wallace,  "  tell  me  how  is  the  hope  of  Scotland,  the  only 
earthly  stiller  of  these  horrid  tumults?"  —  "Alas!"  replied 
Bothwell,  "after  regaining  by  a  valor  worthy  of  his  destiny 
every  fortress  north  of  the  Forth,  his  last  and  greatest  achieve- 
ment was  making  himself  master  of  Scone ;  but  in  storming 
its  walls,  a  fragment  of  stone  falling  heavily,  terribly  rent  the 


BALLOCHGEICH.  241 

muscles  of  his  breast,  and  now  —  woe  to  Scotland  !  —  he  now 
lies  at  Hunting-tower  reduced  to  infant  weakness.  All  this 
you  would  have  known  had  you  received  his  letters ;  but  vil- 
lany  must  have  been  widely  at  work,  for  none  of  yours  have 
reached  his  hands."  This  intelligence  respecting  Bruce  was 
a  1110 re  mortal  blow  to  Wallace  than  all  he  had  just  sustained 
in  his  own  person.  He  remained  silent,  but  his  mind  was 
thronged  with  thoughts.  Was  Scotland  to  be  indeed  lost  ? 
Was  all  that  he  had  suffered  and  achieved  to  have  been  done 
in  vain  ?  and  should  he  be  fated  to  behold  her  again  made  a 
sacrifice  to  the  jealous  rivalry  of  her  selfish  and  contending 
nobles  ? 

Both  well  continued  to  speak  of  the  prince,  and  added  that 
it  was  with  reluctance  he  had  left  him,  even  to  share  the  an- 
ticipated success  at  Berwick.  But  Bruce,  impatient  to  learn 
the  issue  of  the  siege  (as  still  no  letters  arrived  from  that 
quarter),  had  despatched  him  back  to  the  borders.  At  Dun- 
•1'ermline  he  was  stricken  with  horror  by  the  information  that 
treason  had  been  alleged  against  Wallace,  and  turning  his  steps 
westward,  he  flew  to  give  that  support  to  his  friend's  inno- 
cence which  the  malignity  of  his  enemies  might  render 
needful. 

"  The  moment  I  heard  how  you  were  beset,"  continued 
Bothwell,  "  I  despatched  a  messenger  to  Lord  Ruthven,  warn- 
ing him  not  to  alarm  Bruce  with  such  tidings,  but  to  send 
hither  all  the  spare  forces  in  Perthshire  to  maintain  you  in 
your  rights."  —  "  No  force,  my  dear  Bothwell,  must  be  used  to 
hold  me  in  a  power  which  now  would  only  keep  alive  a  spirit 
of  discord  in  my  country.  If  I  dare  apply  the  words  of  my 
.Divine  Master,  I  would  say,  I  came  not  to  bring  a  sword,  but 
•peace,  to  the  people  of  Scotland.  Then,  if  they  are  weary  of 
me,  let  me  go.  Bruce  will  recover  ;  they  will  rally  round  his 
standard,  and  all  will  be  well."  —  "Oh,  Wallace,  Wallace!" 
cried  Bothwell ;  "  the  scene  I  have  this  day  witnessed  is 
enough  to  make  a  traitor  of  me.  I  could  forswear  my  insensi- 
ble country ;  I  could  immolate  its  ungrateful  chieftains  on  those 
very  lands  which  your  generous  arm  restored  to  these  worth- 
less men."  He  threw  himself  into  a  seat  and  leaned  his  burn- 
ing forehead  against  his  hand.  "  Cousin,  you  declare  my 
sentiments,"  rejoined  Edwin  ;  "  my  soul  can  never  again  asso- 
ciate with  these  sons  of  Envy.  I  cannot  recognize  a  country- 
man in  any  one  of  them,  and  should  Sir  William  Wallace  quit 
a  land  so  unworthy  of  his  virtues,  where  he  goes,  I  will  go  ;  his 
asylum  shall  be  my  country,  and  Edwin  Ruthven  will  forget 
VOL.  II. -16 


242  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

that  he  ever  was  a  Scot."  —  "Never ! "  cried  Wallace,  turning  on 
him  one  of  those  looks  which  struck  conviction  into  the  heart. 
"  Is  man  more  just  than  God  ?  Though  a  thousand  of  your 
countrymen  offend  you  by  their  crimes,  yet  while  there  re- 
mains one  honest  Scot,  for  his  sake  and  his  posterity,  it  is 
your  duty  to  be  a  patriot.  A  nation  is  one  great  family,  and 
every  individual  in  it  is  as  much  bound  to  promote  the  general 
good  as  a  brother  or  a  father  to  maintain  the  welfare  of  his 
nearest  kindred.  And  if  the  transgression  of  one  son  be  no 
excuse  for  the  omission  of  another,  in  like  manner  the  ruin 
these  turbulent  lords  would  bring  upon  Scotland  is  no  excuse 
for  your  desertion  of  her  interest.  I  would  not  leave  the  helm 
of  my  country  did  she  not  thrust  me  from  it,  but  though  cast 
by  her  into  the  waves,  would  you  not  blush  for  your  friend 
should  he  wish  her  other  than  a  peaceful  haven  ?  "  Edwin 
spoke  not,  but  putting  the  hand  of  Wallace  to  his  lips,  left  the 
tent.  "Oh,"  cried  Bothwell,  looking  after  him,  "that  the 
breast  of  woman  had  but  half  that  boy's  tenderness  !  And  yet, 
all  of  that  dangerous  sex  are  not  like  this  hyena-hearted  Lady 
Strathearn.  Tell  me,  my  friend,  did  she  not,  when  she  disap- 
peared so  strangely  from  Hunting-tower,  fly  to  you  ?  I  now 
.suspect,  from  certain  remembrances,  that  she  and  the  Green 
Knight  are  one  and  the  same  person.  Acknowledge  it,  and  I 
will  unmask  her  at  once  to  the  court  she  has  deceived."  —  "  She 
has  deceived  no  one,"  replied  Wallace.  "  Before  she  spoke,  the 
members  of  that  court  were  determined  to  brand  me  with  guilt, 
and  her  charge  merely  supplied  the  place  of  others  which  they 
would  have  devised  against  me.  Whatever  she  may  be,  my 
dear  Bothwell,  for  the  sake  of  him  whose  name  she  once  bore 
let  us  not  expose  her  to  open  shame.  Her  love  or  her  hatred 
are  alike  indifferent  to  me  now,  for  to  neither  of  them  do  I 
owe  that  innate  malice  of  my  countrymen  which  has  only 
made  her  calumny  the  occasion  of  manifesting  their  resolution 
to  make  me  infamous.  But  that,  my  friend,  is  beyond  her  com- 
pass. I  have  done  my  duty  to  Scotland,  and  that  conviction 
must  live  in  every  honest  heart ;  ay,  and  with  the  dishonest  too, 
for  did  they  not  fear  my  integrity  they  would  not  have  thought 
it  necessary  to  deprive  me  of  power.  Heaven  shield  our 
prince  !  I  dread  that  Badenoch's  next  shaft  may  be  at  him." 
—  "No,"  cried  Bothwell,  "all  is  levelled  at  his  best  friend. 
In  a  low  voice  I  taxed  the  regent  with  disloyalty,  for  permit- 
ting this  outrage  on  you,  and  '  his  basely  envious  answer  was  : 
Wallace's  removal  is  Bruce 's  security.  Who  will  acknowledge 
him  when  they  know  that  this  man  is  his  dictator  ?  "  Wallace 


BALLOCHGETCH.  243 

t 

sighed  at  this  reply,  which  only  confirmed  him  in  his  resolution, 
and  lie  told  Bothwell  that  he  saw  no  alternative,  if  he  wished 
to  still  the  agitations  of  his  country  and  preserve  its  prince 
from  premature  discovery,  but  to  indeed  remove  the  subject  of 
all  these  contentions  from  their  sight.  "  Attempt  it  not ! "  ex- 
claimed Bothwell.  "  Propose  but  a  step  towards  that  end,  and 
you  will  determine  me  to  avenge  my  country,  at  the  peril  of 
my  own  life,  on  all  in  that  accursed  assembly  who  have  men- 
aced yours  !  "  In  short,  the  young  earl's  denunciations  were 
so  earnest  against  the  lords  in  Stirling  that  Wallace,  thinking 
it  dangerous  to  exasperate  him  further,  consented  to  remain  in 
his  camp  till  the  arrival  of  Ruthven  should  bring  him  the 
advantage  of  his  counsel. 

The  issue  showed  that  Bothwell  was  not  mistaken.  The  ma- 
jority of  the  Scottish  nobles  envied  Wallace  his  glory,  and  hated 
him  for  that  virtue  which  drew  the  eyes  of  the  people  to  com- 
pare him  with  their  selfish  courses.  The  regent,  hoping  to 
become  the  first  in  Bruce's  favor,  was  not  less  urgent  to  ruin 
the  man  who  so  deservedly  stood  the  highest  in  that  prince's 
esteem.  He  had  therefore  entered  warmly  into  the  project  of 
Lady  Strathearn.  But  when,  during  a  secret  conference  be- 
tween them,  previous  to  her  open  charge  of  Wallace,  she 
named  Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville  as  one  of  his  foreign  emis- 
saries, Cummin  observed,  "  If  you  would  have  your  accusation 
succeed,  do  not  mention  that  knight  at  all.  He  is  my  friend. 
He  is  now  ill  near  Perth,  and  must  know  nothing  of  this  affair 
till  it  be  over.  Should  he  live,  he  will  nobly  thank  you  for 
your  forbearance ;  should  he  die,  I  will  repay  you,  as  becomes 
your  nearest  kinsman."  All  were  thus  united  in  one  deter- 
mined effort  to  hurl  Wallace  from  his  station  in  the  state. 
But  when  they  believed  that  done,  they  quarrelled  amongst 
themselves,  in  deciding  who  was  to  fill  the  great  military 
office  which  his  prowess  had  now  rendered  a  post  rather  of 
honor  than  of  danger. 

In  the  midst  of  these  feuds,  Sir  Simon  Eraser  abruptly 
appeared  in  the  council-hall.  His  countenance  proclaimed  his 
tidings.  Lennox  and  Loch-awe  (who  had  duly  attended,  in 
hopes  of  bringing  over  some  of  the  more  pliable  chiefs  to 
embrace  the  cause  of  justice)  listened,  with  something  like 
exultation,  to  his  suddenly  disastrous  information.  When  the 
English  governor  at  Berwick  learnt  the  removal  of  Wallace 
from  his  command,  and  the  consequent  consternation  of  the 
Scottish  troops,  instead  of  surrendering  at  sunset,  as  was  ex- 
pected, he  sallied  out  at  the  head  of  the  whole  garrison,  and, 


244  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

attacking  the  Scots  by  surprise,  gave  them  a  total  defeat. 
Every  outpost  around  the  town  was  retaken  by  the  Southrons, 
the  army  of  Fraser  was  cut  to  pieces  or  put  to  flight,  and 
himself,  now  arrived  in  Stirling,  smarting  with  many  a  wound, 
but  more  under  his  dishonor,  to  show  to  the  regent  of  Scot- 
land the  evil  of  having  superseded  the  only  man  whom  the 
enemy  feared.  The  council  stood  in  silence,  staring  on  each 
other,  and,  to  add  to  their  dismay,  Fraser  had  hardly  completed 
his  narration  before  a  messenger  from  Tiviotdale  arrived  to 
inform  the  regent  that  King  Edward  was  himself  within  a 
few  miles  of  the  Cheviots,  and  from  the  recovered  position  of 
Berwick  must  have  even  now  poured  his  thousands  over  those 
hills  upon  the  plains  beneath.  While  all  in  the  citadel  was 
indecision,  tumult,  and  alarm,  Lennox  hastened  to  Wallace's 
camp  with  the  news. 

Lord  Ruthven  and  the  Perthshire  chiefs  were  already 
there.  They  had  arrived  early  in  the  morning,  but  with  un- 
promising tidings  of  Bruce.  The  state  of  his  wound  had 
induced  a  constant  delirium.  But  still  Wallace  clung  to  the 
hope  that  his  country  was  not  doomed  to  perish,  that  its 
prince's  recovery  was  only  protracted.  In  the  midst  of  this 
anxiety,  Lennox  entered,  and  relating  what  he  had  just  heard, 
turned  the  whole  current  of  his  auditors'  ideas.  Wallace 
started  from  his  seat.  His  hand  mechanically  caught  up  his 
sword,  which  lay  upon  the  table.  Lennox  gazed  at  him  with 
animated  veneration.  "There  is  not  a  man  in  the  citadel," 
cried  he,  "who  does  not  appear  at  his  wit's  end  and  incapable 
of  facing  this  often-beaten  foe.  Will  you,  Wallace,  again  con- 
descend to  save  a  country  that  has  treated  you  so  ungrate- 
fully ? "  —  "I  would  die  in  its  trenches  ! "  cried  the  chief, 
with  a  generous  forgiveness  of  all  his  injuries  suffusing  his 
magnanimous  heart. 

Lord  Loch-awe  soon  after  appeared,  and  corroborating  the 
testimony  of  Lennox,  added,  that  on  the  regent's  sending  word 
to  the  troops  on  the  south  of  Stirling,  that  in  consequence  of 
the  treason  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  the  supreme  command 
was  taken  from  him,  and  they  must  immediately  march  out, 
under  the  orders  of  Sir  Simon  Fraser,  to  face  a  new  incursion 
of  the  enemy,  they  began  to  murmur  among  themselves,  say- 
ing, that  since  Wallace  was  found  to  be  a  traitor  they  knew 
not  whom  to  trust,  but  certainly  it  should  not  be  a  beaten 
general.  With  these  whisperings  they  slid  away  from  their 
standards,  and  when  Loch-aw^  left  them,  were  dispersing  on 
all  sides,  like  an  already  discomfited  army. 


ARTHUR* S    SEAT.  245 

CHAPTER   LXXIV. 
ARTHUR'S  SEAT. 

FOR  a  day  or  two  the  paralyzed  terrors  of  the  people  and 
the  tumults  in  the  citadel  seemed  portentous  of  immediate 
ruin.  A  large  detachment  from  the  royal  army  had  entered 
Scotland  by  the  marine  gate  of  Berwick,  and,  headed  by  De 
Warenne,  was  rapidly  advancing  towards  Edinburgh.  Not  a 
soldier  belonging  to  the  regent  remained  on  the  carse,  and 
the  distant  chiefs,  to  whom  he  sent  for  aid,  refused  it,  alleg- 
ing that  the  discovery  of  Wallace's  patriotism  having  been  a 
delusion,  had  made  them  suspect  all  men,  and  now,  locking 
themselves  within  their  own  castles,  each  true  Scot  would  there 
securely  view  a  struggle  in  which  they  could  feel  no  personal 
interest. 

Seeing  the  danger  of  the  realm,  and  hearing  from  the  Lords 
Ruthven  and  Bothwell  that  their  troops  would  follow  no 
other  leader  than  Sir  William  Wallace,  and  hopeless  of  any 
prompt  decision  from  amongst  the  confusion  of  the  council, 
Badenoch  yielded  a  stern  assent  to  the  only  apparent  means  of 
saving  his  sinking  country.  He  turned  ashy  pale,  while  his 
silence  granted  to  Lord  Loch-awe  the  necessity  of  imploring 
Sir  William  Wallace  again  to  stretch  out  his  arm  in  their  be- 
half. With  this  embassy  the  venerable  chief  had  returned 
exultingly  to  Ballochgeich,  and  the  so  lately  branded  Wallace  — • 
branded  as  the  intended  betrayer  of  Scotland  —  was  solicited 
by  his  very  accusers  to  assume  the  trust  of  their  sole  defence. 

"  Such  is  the  triumph  of  virtue,'7  whispered  Edwin  to  his 
friend  as  he  vaulted  on  his  horse.  A  luminous  smile  from 
Wallace  acknowledged  that  he  felt  the  tribute,  and,  looking 
up  to  heaven  ere  he  placed  his  helmet  on  his  head,  he  said, 
"Thence  comes  my  power!  and  the  satisfaction  it  brings, 
whether  attended  by  man's  applause  or  his  blame,  he  cannot 
take  from  me.  I  now,  perhaps  for  the  last  time,  arm  this  head 
for  Scotland.  May  the  God  in  whom  I  trust  again  crown  it 
with  victory,  and  forever  after  bind  the  brows  of  our  rightful 
sovereign  with  peace!" 

While  Wallace  pursued  his  march,  the  regent  was  quite  at  a 
stand,  confounded  at  the  turn  which  events  had  taken,  and 
hardly  knowing  whether  to  make  another  essay  to  collect 
forces  for  the  support  of  their  former  leader,  or  to  follow  the 
refractory  counsels  of  his  lords,  and  await  in  inactivity  the 


246  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

issue  of  the  expected  battle.     He  knew  not  how  to  act,  but  a 
letter  from  Lady  Strathearn  decided  him. 

Though  partly  triumphant  in  her  charges,  yet  the  accu< 
sations  of  Both  well  had  disconcerted  her ;  and  though  the 
restoration  of  Wallace  to  his  undisputed  authority  in  the 
state  seemed  to  her  next  to  impossible,  still  she  resolved 
to  take  another  step,  to  confirm  her  influence  over  the  dis- 
contented of  her  country,  and,  most  likely,  to  ensure  the 
vengeance  she  panted  to  bring  upon  her  victim's  head.  To 
this  end,  on  the  very  evening  that  she  retreated  in  terror 
from  the  council-hall,  she  set  forward  to  the  borders,  and 
easily  passing  thence  to  the  English  camp  (then  pitched  at 
Alnwick),  was  soon  admitted  to  the  castle,  where  De  Warenne 
lodged.  She  was  too  well  taught  in  the  school  of  vanity 
not  to  have  remarked  the  admiration  with  which  that  earl 
had  regarded  her  while  he  was  a  prisoner  in  Stirling,  and 
'hoping  that  he  might  not  be  able  to  withstand  the  persuasion 
of  her  charms,  she  opened  her  mission  with  no  less  art  than 
effect.  De  Warenne  was  made  to  believe  that  on  the  strength 
of  a  passion  Wallace  had  conceived  for  her,  and  which  she 
treated  with  disdain,  he  had  repented  of  his  former  refusal  of 
the  crown  of  Scotland,  and,  mislead  by  a  hope  that  she  would 
not  repeat  her  rejection  of  his  hand  could  it  present  her  a 
sceptre,  he  was  now  attempting  to  compass  that  dignity  by  the 
most  complicated  intrigues.  She  then  related  how,  at  her  in- 
stigation, the  regent  had  deposed  him  from  his  military  com- 
mand; and  she  ended  with  saying,  that,  impelled  by  loyalty  to 
Edward  (whom  her  better  reason  now  recognized  as  the  law- 
ful sovereign  of  her  country),  she  had  come  to  exhort  that 
monarch  to  renew  his  invasion  of  the  kingdom.  Intoxicated 
with  her  beauty,  and  enraptured  by  a  manner  which  seemed  to 
tell  him  that  a  softer  sentiment  than  usual  had  made  her 
select  him  as  the  ambassador  to  the  king,  De  Warenne 
greedily  drank  in  all  her  words,  and  ere  he  allowed  this,  to 
him,  romantic  conference  to  break  up,  he  had  thrown  himself 
at  her  feet,  and  implored  her,  by  every  impassioned  argument, 
to  grant  him  the  privilege  of  presenting  her  to  Edward  as  his 
intended  bride.  De  Warenne  was  in  the  meridian  of  life, 
and  being  fraught  with  a  power  at  court  beyond  most  of  his 
peers,  she  determined  to  accept  his  hand  and  wield  its  high 
influence  to  the  destruction  of  Wallace,  even  should  she  be 
compelled  in  the  act  to  precipitate  her  country  in  his  fall. 
De  Warenne  drew  from  her  a  half-reluctant  consent ;  and 
while  he  poured  forth  the  transports  of  a  happy  lover,  he  was 


ARTHUR'S    SEAT.  247 

not  so  much  enamored  of  the  fine  person  of  Lady  Strathearn 
as  to  be  altogether  insensible  to  the  advantages  which  his  alli- 
ance with  her  would  give  to  Edward  in  his  Scottish  pretensions. 
And  as  it  would  consequently  increase  his  own  importance 
with  that  monarch,  he  lost  no  time  in  communicating  the  cir- 
cumstance to  him.  Edward  suspected  something  in  this  sud- 
den attachment  of  the  countess,  which,  should  it  transpire, 
might  cool  the  ardor  of  his  officer  for  uniting  so  useful  an 
agent  to  his  cause ;  therefore,  having  highly  approved  De 
Warenne's  conduct  in  the  affair,  to  hasten  the  nuptials,  he 
proposed  being  present  at  their  solemnization  that  very  even- 
ing. The  solemn  vows  which  Lady  Strathearn  then  pledged 
at  the  altar  to  De  Warenne  were  pronounced  by  her  with  no 
holy  awe  of  the  marriage  contract,  but  rather  as  those  alone 
by  which  she  swore  to  complete  her  revenge  on  Wallace,  and 
by  depriving  him  of  life,  prevent  the  climax  to  her  misery  of 
seeing  him  (what  she  believed  he  intended  to  become)  the 
-husband  of  Helen  Mar.  The  day  after  she  became  De  War- 
enne's wife  she  accompanied  him  by  sea  to  Berwick,  and  from 
that  place  she  despatched  messengers  to  the  regent  and  to 
other  nobles,  her  kinsmen,  fraught  with  promises  which  Ed- 
ward, in  the  event  of  success,  had  solemnly  pledged  himself  to 
ratify.  Her  ambassador  arrived  at  Stirling  the  day  succeed- 
ing that  in  which  Wallace  and  his  troops  had  marched  from 
Ballochgeich.  The  letters  he  brought  were  eagerly  opened  by 
Badenoch  and  his  chieftains,  and  they  found  their  contents  to 
this  effect.  She  announced  to  them  her  marriage  with  the 
lord  warden,  who  was  returned  into  Scotland  with  every  power 
for  the  final  subjugation  of  the  country ;  and  therefore  she 
besought  the  regent  and  his  council  not  to  raise  a  hostile  arm 
against  him,  if  they  would  not  merely  .escape  the  indignation 
of  a  great  king,  but  ensure  his  favor.  She  cast  out  hints  to 
Badenoch,  as  if  Edward  meant  to  reward  his  acquiescence  with 
the  crown  of  Scotland,  and  with  similar  baits,  proportioned  to 
the  views  of  all  her  other  kinsmen,  she  smoothed  their  anger 
against  that  monach's  former  insults,  persuading  them  to  at 
least  remain  inactive  during  the  last  struggle  of  their  country. 
Meanwhile,  Wallace,  taking  his  course  along  the  banks  of  the 
Forth,  when  the  night  drew  near  encamped  his  little  army  at 
the  base  of  the  craigs,  east  of  Edinburgh  castle.  His  march 
having  been  long  and  rapid,  the  men  were  much  fatigued,  and 
hardly  were  laid  upon  their  heather  beds  before  they  fell 
asleep.  Wallace  had  learned  from  his  scouts  that  the  main 
body  of  the  Southrons  were  approached  within  a  few  miles  of 


248  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Dalkeith.  Thither  he  hoped  to  go  next  morning,  and  there, 
he  trusted,  strike  the  conclusive  blow  for  Scotland,  by  the 
destruction  of  a  division  which  he  understood  comprised  the 
flower  of  the  English  army.  With  these  expectations  he 
gladly  saw  his  troops  lying  in  that  repose  which  would  re- 
brace  their  strength  for  the  combat ;  and  as  the  hours  of  night 
stole  on,  while  his  possessed  mind  waked  for  all  around,  he 
was  pleased  to  see  his  ever-watchful  Edwin  sink  down  in  a 
profound 'sleep. 

It  was  Wallace's  custom,  once,  at  least,  in  the  night,  to  go 
himself  the  round  of  his  posts  to  see  that  all  was  safe.  The 
air  was  serene,  and  he  walked  out  on  this  duty.  He  passed 
from  line  to  line,  from  station  to  station,  and  all  was  in  order. 
One  post  alone  remained  to  be  visited,  and  that  was  a  point  of 
observation  on  the  craigs  near  Arthur's  Seat.  As  he  pro- 
ceeded along  a  lonely  defile  between  the  rocks  which  over- 
hang the  ascent  of  the  mountain,  he  was  startled  by  the 
indistinct  sight  of  a  figure  amongst  the  rolling  vapors  of  tire 
night  seated  on  a  towering  cliff  directly  in  the  way  he  was  to 
go.  The  broad  light  of  the  moon  breaking  from  behind  the 
clouds  shone  full  upon  the  spot,  and  discovered  a  majestic 
form  in  gray  robes  leaning  on  a  harp,  while  his  face,  mourn- 
fully gazing  upward,  was  rendered  venerable  by  a  long  white 
beard  that  mingled  with  the  floating  mist.  Wallace  paused, 
and  stopping  at  some  distance  from  this  extraordinary  appa- 
rition, looked  on  it  in  silence.  The  strings  of  the  harp  seemed 
softly  touched,  but  it  was  only  the  sighing  of  a  transitory 
breeze  passing  over  them.  The  vibration  ceased ;  but  in  the 
next  moment  the  hand  of  the  master  indeed  struck  the  chords, 
and  with  so  full  and  melancholy  a  sound  that  Wallace  for  a 
few  minutes  was  rivet.ed  to  the  ground ;  then  moving  forward 
with  a  breathless  caution  not  to  disturb  the  nocturnal  bard, 
he  gently  approached.  He  was,  however,  descried.  The  ven- 
erable figure  clasped  his  hands,  and  in  a  voice  of  mournful 
solemnity  exclaimed,  "  Art  them  come,  doomed  of  Heaven,  to 
hear  thy  sad  coronach  ?  "  Wallace  started  at  this  salutation. 
The  bard,  with  the  same  emotion,  continued :  "  No  choral 
hymns  hallow  thy  bleeding  corse  —  wolves  howl  thy  requiem 
—  eagles  scream  over  thy  desolate  grave!  Fly,  chieftain, 
fly  ! »  _  tt  what  venerable  father  of  the  harp,"  cried  Wallace, 
interrupting  the  awful  pause,  "thus  addresses  one  whom  he 
must  mistake  for  some  other  warrior  ?  "  —  "  Can  the  spirit  of 
inspiration  mistake  its  object  ?  "  demanded  the  bard.  "  Can 
he  whose  eyes  have  been  opened  be  blind  to  Sir  William 


ARTHUR'S    SEAT.  249 

Wallace  ? — to  the  blood  which  clogs  his  mounting  footsteps?  " 
—  "  And  what,  or  who,  am  I  to  understand  art  thou  ?  "  replied 
Wallace.  "  Who  is  the  saint  whose  Ijoly  charity  would  antic- 
ipate the  obsequies  of  a  man  who  yet  may  be  destined  to  a 
long  pilgrimage?" — "Who  I  am,"  resumed  the  bard,  "will 
be  shown  to  thee  when  thou  hast  passed  yon  starry  firmament. 
But  the*  galaxy  streams  with  blood,  the  bugle  of  death  is  alone 
heard,  and  thy  lacerated  breast  heaves  in  vain  against  the 
hoofs  of  opposing  squadrons.  They  charge !  Scotland  falls  ! 
Look  not  on  me,  champion  of  thy  country !  Sold  by  thine 
enemies,  betrayed  by  thy  friends  !  It  was  not  the  seer  of 
St.  Anton  who  gave  thee  these  wounds ;  that  heart's  blood 
was  not  drawn  by  me ;  a  woman's  hand  in  mail,  ten  thousand 
armed  warriors,  strike  the  mortal  steel.  He  sinks !  he  falls  ! 
Red  is  the  blood  of  Eske !  Thy  vital  stream  hath  dyed  it. 
Fly,  bravest  of  the  brave,  and  live !  Stay,  and  perish ! " 
With  a  shriek  of  horror,  and  throwing  his  aged  arms  extended 
towards  the  heavens,  while  his  gray  beard  mingled  in  the  ris- 
ing blast,  the  seer  rushed  from  sight.  Wallace  saw  the  misty 
rocks  alone,  and  was  left  in  awful  solitude. 

For  a  few  minutes  he  stood  in  profound  silence.  His  very 
soul  seemed  deprived  of  power  to  answer  so  terrible  a  denun- 
ciation with  even  a  questioning  thought.  He  had  heard  the 
destruction  of  Scotland  declared,  and  himself  sentenced  to 
perish,  if  he  did  not  escape  the  general  ruin  by  flying  from 
her  side.  This  terrible  decree  of  fate,  so  disastrously  corrob- 
orated by  the  extremity  of  Bruce  and  the  divisions  in  the 
kingdom,  had  been  sounded  in  his  ear  —  had  been  pronounced 
by  one  of  those  sages  of  his  country  on  whom  the  spirit  of 
prophecy,  it  was  believed,  yet  descended  with  all  the  horrors 
of  a  woe-denouncing  trumpet.  Could  he  then  doubt  its  truth  ? 
He  did  not  doubt;  he  believed  the  midnight  voice  he  had 
heard.  But  recovering  from  the  first  shock  of  such  a  doom, 
and  remembering  that  it  still  left  the  choice  to  himself  between 
dishonored  life  or  glorious  death,  he  resolved  to  show  his  re- 
spect to  the  oracle  by  manifesting  a  persevering  obedience  to 
the  eternal  voice  which  gave  those  agents  utterance ;  and  while 
lie  bowed  to  the  warning,  he  vowed  to  be  the  last  who  should 
fall  from  the  side  of  his  devoted  country.  "  If  devoted,"  cried 
he,  "  then  our  fates  shall  be  the  same.  My  fall  from  thee  shall 
be  into  my  grave.  Scotland  may  have  struck  the  breast  that 
shielded  her,  yet,  Father  of  Mercies,  forgive  her  blindness, 
and  grant  me  still  permission  a  little  longer  to  oppose  my 
heart  between  her  and  this  fearful  doom!" 


250  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

CHAPTER    LXXV. 

DALKEITH. 

AWED,  but  not  intimidated,  by  the  prophecy  of  the  seer, 
Wallace,  next  day,  drew  up  his  army  in  order  for  £he  new 
battle,  near  a  convent  of  Cistertian  monks,1  on  the  narrow 
plain  of  Dalkeith.  The  two  rivers  Eske,  flowing  on  each  side 
of  the  little  phalanx,  formed  a  temporary  barrier  between  it 
and  the  pressing  legions  of  De  Warenne.  The  earl's  troops 
seemed  countless,  while  the  Southron  lords  who  led  them  on, 
being  elated  by  the  representations  which  the  Countess  of 
Strathearn  had  given  to  them  of  the  disunited  state  of  the 
Scottish  army,  and  the  consequent  dismay  which  had  seized 
their  hitherto  all-conquering  commander,  bore  down  upon  the 
Scots  with  an  impetuosity  which  threatened  their  universal 
destruction.  Deceived  by  the  blandishing  falsehoods  of  his 
bride,  Be  Warenne  had  entirely  changed  his  former  opinion  of 
his  brave  opponent,  and  by  her  sophistries,  having  brought  his 
mind  to  adopt  stratagems  of  intimidation  unworthy  of  his 
nobleness  (so  contagious  is  baseness  in  too  fond  a  contact 
with  the  unprincipled),  he  placed  himself  on  an  adjoining 
height,  intending  from  that  commanding  post  to  dispense  his 
orders  and  behold  his  victory.  "  Soldiers !  "  cried  he,  "  the 
rebel's  hour  is  come.  The  sentence  of  Heaven  is  gone  forth 
against  him.  Charge  resolutely,  and  he  and  his  host  are 
yours." 

The  sky  was  obscured ;  an  awful  stillness  reigned  through 
the  air,  and  the  spirits  of  the  mighty  dead  seemed  leaning  from 
their  clouds  to  witness  this  last  struggle  of  their  sons.  Fate 
did  indeed  hover  over  the  opposing  armies.  She  descended  on 
the  head  of  Wallace,  and  dictated  from  amidst  his  waving 
plumes!  She  pointed  his  spear ;  she  wielded  his  flaming  sword ; 
she  charged  with  him  in  the  dreadful  shock  of  battle.  De 
Warenne  saw  his  foremost  thousands  fall.  He  heard  the 
shout  of  the  Scots,  the  cries  of  his  men,  and  the  plains  of  Stir- 
ling rose  to  his  remembrance.  He  hastily  ordered  the  knights 
around  him  to  bear  his  wife  from  the  field,  and  descending  the 
hill  to  lead  forward  himself,  was  met  and  almost  overwhelmed 
by  his  flying  troops,  —  horses  without  riders,  men  without 
shield  or  sword,  but  all  in  dismay,  rushed  past  him.  He 

1  Newbattle,  the  fine  old  family  mansion  of  the  Marquis  of  Lothian,  now  occupies  the 
site  of  that  ancient  abbey,  and  BO  derives  its  name. 


DALKEITH.  251 

called  to  them ;  he  waved  the  royal  standard  ;  he  urged ;  he  re- 
proached; he  rallied,  and  led  them  back  again.  The  fight 
recommenced.  Long  and  bloody  was  the  conflict.  De  War- 
enne  fought  for  conquest,  and  to  recover  a  lost  reputation. 
Wallace  contended  for  his  country,  and  to  show  himself 
worthy  of  her  latest  blessing,  "before  he  should  go  hence  and 
be  no  more  seen." 

The  issue  declared  for  Scotland.  But  the  ground  was  cov- 
ered with  the  slain,  and  Wallace  chased  a  wounded  foe  with 
troops  which  dropped  as  they  pursued.  At  sight  of  the  mel- 
ancholy state  of  his  intrepid  soldiers,  he  tried  to  check  their 
ardor,  but  in  vain.  "  It  is  for  Wallace  that  we  conquer ! " 
cried  they ;  "  and  we  die,  or  prove  him  the  only  captain  in  this 
ungrateful  country." 

Night  compelled  them  to  halt,  and  while  they  rested  on 
their  arms  Wallace  was  satisfied  that  he  had  destroyed  the 
power  of  De  Warenne.  As  he  leaned  on  his  sword,  and  stood 
with  Edwin  near  the  watch-fire  over  which  that  youthful  hero 
kept  a  guard,  he  contemplated,  with  generous  forbearance,  the 
terrified  Southrons  as  they  fled  precipitately  by  the  foot  of 
the  hill  towards  the  Tweed.  Wallace  now  told  his  friend  the 
history  of  his  adventure  with  the  seer  of  the  craigs,  and  find- 
ing within  himself  how  much  the  brightness  of  true  religion 
excludes  the  glooms  of  superstition,  he  added :  "  The  proof  of 
the  Divine  Spirit  in  prophecy  is  its  completion.  Hence  let 
the  false  seer  I  met  last  night  warn  you,  my  Edwin,  by  my 
example,  how  you  give  credit  to  any  prediction  that  might 
slacken  the  sinews  of  duty.  God  can  speak  but  one  lan- 
guage. He  is  not  a  man,  that  he  should  repent ;  neither  a 
mortal,  that  he  should  change  his  purpose.  This  prophet  of 
Baal  beguiled  me  into  a  credence  of  his  denunciation,  but  not 
to  adopt  the  conduct  his  offered  alternative  would  have  per- 
suaded me  to  pursue.  I  now  see  that  he  was  a  traitor  in  both, 
and  henceforth  shall  read  my  fate  in  the  oracles  of  God  alone. 
Obeying  them,  my  Edwin,  we  need  not  fear  the  curses  of  our 
enemy,  nor  the  lying  of  suborned  soothsayers." 

The  splendor  of  this  victory  struck  to  the  souls  of  the  coun- 
cil at  Stirling,  but  with  no  touch  of  remorse.  Scotland  being 
again  rescued  from  the  vengeance  of  her  implacable  foe,  the 
disaffected  lords  in  the  citadel  affected  to  spurn  at  her  preser- 
vation, declaring  to  the  regent  that  they  would  rather  bear  the 
yoke  of  the  veriest  tyrant  in  the  world  than  owe  a  moment  of 
freedom  to  the  man  who  (they  pretended  to  believe)  had  con- 
spired against  their  lives.  And  they  had  a  weighty  reason  for 


252  -    THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

this  decision.  Though  De  Warenne  was  beaten,  his  wife  was 
a  victor.  She  had  made  Edward  triumphant  in  the  venal 
hearts  of  her  kinsman ;  gold,  and  her  persuasions,  with  prom- 
ises of  future  honors  from  the  King  of  Eng^nd,  had  sealed 
them  entirely  his.  All  but  the  regent  were  ready  to  commit 
everything  into  the  hands  of  Edward.  The  rising  favor  of 
these  other  lords  with  the  court  of  England  induced  him  to 
recollect  that  he  might  rule  as  the  unrivalled  friend  of  Bruce 
should  that  prince  live,  or  in  case  of  his  death  he  might 
have  it  in  his  own  power  to  assume  the  Scotish  throne  un 
trammelled.  These  thoughts  made  him  fluctuate,  and  his 
country  found  him  as  undetermined  in  treason  as  unstable  in 
fidelity. 

Immediately  on  the  victory  at  Dalkeith,  Kirkpatrick  (eager 
to  be  the  first  communicator  of  such  welcome  news  to  Lennox, 
who  had  planted  himself  as  a  watch  at  Stirling)  withdrew 
secretly  from  Wallace's  camp,  and,  hoping  to  move  the  grati- 
tude of  the  refractory  lords,  entered,  full  of  honest  joy,  into 
the  midst  of  their  council. 

He  proclaimed  the  success  of  his  commander.  His  answer 
was  accusations  and  insult.  All  that  had  been  charged  against 
the  too  fortunate  Wallace  was  reurged  with  added  acrimony. 
Treachery  to  the  state,  hypocrisy  in  morals,  fanaticism  in 
religion ;  no  stigma  was  too  extravagant,  too  contradictory,  to 
be  affixed  to  his  name.  They  who  had  been  hurt  in  the  fray 
in  the  hall,  pointed  to  their  still  smarting  wounds,  and  called 
upon  Lennox  to  say  if  they  did  not  plead  against  so  dangerous 
a  man.  "  Dangerous  to  your  crimes  and  ruinous  to  your  am- 
bition," cried  Kirkpatrick ;  "  for,  so  help  me  God,  as  I  believe, 
that  an  honester  man  than  William  Wallace  lives  not  in  Scot- 
land !  And  that  ye  know ;  and  his  virtues,  overtopping  your 
littleness,  ye  would  uproot  the  greatness  which  ye  cannot 
equal."  This  speech,  which  a  burst  of  indignation  had 
wrested  from  him,  brought  down  the  wrath  of  the  whole  party 
upon  himself.  Lord  Athol,  yet  stung  with  his  old  wound, 
furiously  struck  him.  Kirkpatrick  drew  his  sword,  and  the 
two  chiefs  commenced  a  furious  combat,  each  determined  on 
the  extirpation  of  the  other.  Gasping  with  almost  the  last 
breathings  of  life,  neither  could  be  torn  from  their  desperate 
revenge  till  many  were  hurt  in  attempting  to  separate  them, 
and  then  the  two  were  carried  off  insensible  and  covered  with 
wounds. 

When  this  sad  news  was  transmitted  to  Sir  William  Wallace, 
it  found  him  on  the  banks  of  the  Eske,  just  returned  from  the 


DALKEITH.  253 

citadel  of  Berwick,  where,  once  more  master  of  that  fortress, 
he  had  dictated  the  terms  of  a  conqueror  and  a  patriot. 

In  the  scene  of  his  former  victories,  the  romantic  shades  of 
Hawthorndean,  he  now  pitched  his  triumphant  camp,  and 
from  its  verdant  bounds  despatched  the  requisite  orders  to  the 
garrisoned  castles  on  the  borders.  While  employed  in  this 
duty,  his  heart  was  wrung  by  an  account  of  the  newly  aroused 
storm  in  the  citadel  of  Stirling ;  but  as  some  equivalent,  the 
chieftains  of  Mid-Lothian  poured  in  to  him  on  every  side,  and 
acknowledging  him  their  protector,  he  again  found  himself  the 
idol  of  gratitude  and  the  almost  deified  object  of  trust.  At 
such  a  moment,  when  with  one  voice  they  were  disclaiming  all 
participation  in  the  insurgent  proceedings  at  Stirling,  another 
messenger  arrived  from  Lord  Lennox  to  conjure  him,  if  he 
would  avoid  open  violence  or  secret  treachery,  to  march  his 
victorious  troops  immediately  to  that  city  and  seize  the 
assembled  abthanes1  at  once  as  traitors  to  their  country. 
"  Eesume  the  regency,"  added  he,  "which  you  only  know  how 
to  conduct,  and  crush  a  treason  which,  increasing  hourly,  now 
walks  openly  in  the  day,  threatening  all  that  is  virtuous  or 
faithful  to  you." 

He  did  not  hesitate  to  decide  against  this  counsel,  for,  in 
following  it,  it  could  not  be  one  adversary  he  must  strike,  but 
thousands.  "  I  am  only  a  brother  to  my  countrymen,'7  said  he 
to  himself,  "  and  have  no  right  to  force  them  to  their  duty. 
When  their  king  appears,  then  these  rebellious  heads  may  be 
made  to  bow."  While  he  mused  upon  the  letter  of  Lennox, 
Euthven  entered  the  recess  of  the  tent,  whither  he  had  retired 
to  read  it.  "  I  bring  you  better  news  of  our  friend  at  Hunting- 
tower,"  cried  the  good  lord ;  "  here  is  a  packet  from  Douglas 
and  another  from  my  wife."  Wallace  gladly  read  them,  and 
found  that  Bruce  was  relieved  from  his  delirium,  but  so  weak 
that  his  friends  dared  not  hazard  a  relapse  by  imparting 
to  him  any  idea  of  the  proceedings  at  Stirling.  All  he  knew 
was  that  Wallace  was  victorious  in  arms  and  panting  for  his 
recovery  to  render  such  success  really  beneficial  to  his  country. 
Helen  and  Isabella,  with  the  sage  of  Ercildown,  were  the 
prince's  unwearied  attendants,  and,  though  his  life  was  yet  in 
extreme  peril,  it  was  to  be  hoped  that  their  attentions,  and  his 
own  constitution,  would  finally  cure  the  wound  and  conquer 
its  attendant  fever.  Comforted  with  the  tidings,  Wallace  de- 
clared his  intentions  of  visiting  his  suffering  friend  as  soon 

1  Abthanes,  which  means  the  great  lords,  was  a  title  of  preeminence  given  to  the 
higher  order  of  chiefs. 


254  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

as  lie  could  establish  any  principle  in  the  minds  of  his  fol- 
lowers to  induce  them  to  bear,  even  for  a  little  time,  with 
the  insolence  of  the  abthanes.  "  I  will  then,"  said  he,  "  watch 
by  the  side  of  our  beloved  Bruce  till  his  recovered  health 
allow  him  to  proclaim  himself  king  ;  and  with  that  act,  I  trust, 
all  these  feuds  will  be  forever  laid  to  sleep."  Ruthven  par- 
ticipated in  these  hopes,  and  the  friends  returned  into  the 
council-tent.  But  all  there  was  changed.  Most  of  the  Lothian 
chieftains  had  also  received  messengers  from  their  friends  in 
Stirling.  Allegations  against  Wallace,  arguments  to  prove 
"the  policy  of  submitting  themselves  and  their  properties  to 
the  protection  of  a  great  and  generous  king,  though  a  foreigner, 
rather  than  to  risk  all  by  attaching  themselves  to  the  fortune 
of  a  private  person,  who  made  their  services  the  ladder  of 
his  ambition,"  were  the  contents  of  their  packets,  and  they 
had  been  sufficient  to  shake  the  easy  faith  to  which  they  were 
addressed.  On  the  reentrance  of  Wallace,  the  chieftains  stole 
suspicious  glances  at  each  other,  and,  without  a  word,  glided 
severally  out  of  the  tent.  '  i;o- 


CHAPTER   LXXVI. 

'fr ,    ' 

HAWTHORNDEAN. 

NEXT  morning,  instead  of  coming  as  usual  directly  to  their 
acknowledged  protector,  the  Lothian  chieftains  were  seen  at 
different  parts  of  the  camp  closely  conversing  in  groups,  and 
when  any  of  Wallace's  officers  approached,  they  separated,  or 
withdrew  to  a  greater  distance.  This  strange  conduct  Wallace 
attributed  to  its  right  source,  and  thought  of  Bruce  with  a 
sigh  when  he  contemplated  the  variable  substance  of  these 
men's  minds.  However,  he  was  so  convinced  that  nothing 
but  the  proclamation  of  Bruce,  and  that  prince's  personal  exer- 
tions, could  preserve  his  country  from  falling  again  into  the 
snare  from  which  he  had  just  snatched  it,  that  he  was  pre- 
paring to  set  out  for  Perthshire  with  such  persuasions  when 
Ker  hastily  entered  his  tent.  He  was  followed  by  the  Lord 
Soulis,  Lord  Buchan,  and  several  other  chiefs  of  equally  hos- 
tile intentions.  Soulis  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  his  errand. 

"  We  come,  Sir  William  Wallace,  by  the  command  of  the 
regent  and  the  assembled  abthanes  of  Scotland,  to  take  these 
brave  troops,  which  have  performed  such  good  service  to  their 
country,  from  the  power  of  a  man  who,  we  have  every  reason 


HA  WTHORNDEAN.  265 

to  believe,  means  to  turn  their  arms  against  the  liberties  of 
the  realm.  Without  a  pardon  from  the  states;  without  the 
signature  of  the  regent;  in  contempt  of  the  court,  which, 
having  found  you  guilty  of  high  treason,  had  in  mercy  delayed 
to  pronounce  sentence  on  your  crime,  you  have  presumed  to 
place  yourself  at  the  head  of  the  national  troops,  and  to  take 
to  yourself  the  merit  of  a  victory  won  by  their  prowess  alone. 
Your  designs  are  known,  and  the  authority  you  have  despised 
is  now  roused  to  punish.  You  are  to  accompany  us  this  day 
to  Stirling.  We  have  brought  a  guard  of  four  thousand  men 
to  compel  your  obedience." 

Before  the  indignant  spirit  of  Wallace  could  utter  the  answer 
his  wrongs  dictated,  Bothwell,  who  at  sight  of  the  regent's 
troops  had  hastened  to  his  general's  tent,  entered,  followed  by 
his  chieftains.  "  Were  your  guard  forty  thousand  instead  of 
four,"  cried  he,  "  they  should  not  force  our  commander  from 
us  ;  they  should  not  extinguish  the  glory  of  Scotland  beneath 
the  traitorous  devices  of  hell-engendered  envy  and  murderous 
cowardice  !  "  Soulis  turned  on  him  with  eyes  of  fire  and  laid 
his  hand  on  his  sword.  "  Ay,  cowardice  !  "  reiterated  Both- 
well  ;  "  the  midnight  ravisher,  the  slanderer  of  virtue,  the  be- 
trayer of  his  country,  knows  in  his  heart  that  he  fears  to 
draw  aught  but  the  assassin's  steel.  He  dreads  the  sceptre  of 
honor.  Wallace  must  fall,  that  vice  and  her  votaries  may 
reign  in  Scotland.  A  thousand  brave  Scots  lie  under  these 
sods,  and  a  thousand  yet  survive  who  may  share  their  graves, 
but  they  never  will  relinquish  their  invincible  leader  into  the 
hands  of  traitors." 

The  clamors  of  the  citadel  of  Stirling  now  resounded 
through  the  tent  of  Wallace.  Invectives,  accusations,  threaten™ 
ings,  reproaches,  and  revilings  joined  in  one  turbulent  uproar. 
Again  swords  were  drawn,  and  Wallace,  in  attempting  to  beat 
down  the  weapons  of  Soulis  and  Buchan  aimed  at  Both  well's 
heart,  must  have  received  the  point  of  Soulis  in  his  own  body 
had  he  not  grasped  the  blade,  and,  wrenching  it  out  of  the  chief's 
hand,  broke  it  into  shivers.  "  Such  be  the  fate  of  every  sword 
which  Scot  draws  against  Scot ! "  cried  he.  "  Put  up  youtf 
weapons,  my  friends.  The  arm  of  Wallace  is  not  shrunk  that 
he  could  not  defend  himself  did  he  think  that  violence  were 
necessary.  Hear  my  determination,  once  and  forever," 
added  he.  "  I  acknowledge  no  authority  in  Scotland  but  the 
laws.  The  present  regent  and  his'abthanes  outrage  them  in 
every  ordinance,  and  I  should  indeed  be  a  traitor  to  my  coun- 
try did  I  submit  to  such  men's  behests.  I  shall  not  obey  their 


256  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

summons  to  Stirling ;  neither  will  I  permit  a  hostile  arm  to 
be  raised  in  this  camp  against  their  delegates  unless  the 
violence  begins  with  them.  This  is  my  answer."  Uttering 
these  words,  he  motioned  Bothwell  to  follow  him,  and  left  the 
tent. 

Crossing  a  rude  plank-bridge,  which  then  lay  over  the  Eske, 
he  met  Lord  Euthven,  accompanied  by  Edwin  and  Lord  Sin- 
clair. The  latter  came  to  inform  Wallace  that  ambassadors 
from  Edward  awaited  his  presence  at  Eoslyn.  "  They  come 
to  offer  peace  to  our  distracted  country,"  cried  Sinclair. 
"  Then,"  answered  Wallace,  "  I  shall  not  delay  going  where  I 
may  hear  the  terms."  Horses  were  brought,  and  during  their 
short  ride,  to  prevent  the  impassioned  representations  of  the 
still  raging  Bothwell,  Wallace  communicated  to  his  not  less 
indignant  friends  the  particulars  of  the  scene  he  had  left. 
"These  contentions  must  be  terminated,"  added  he,  "and, 
with  God's  blessing,  a  few  days  and  they  shall  be  so  ! "  — 
"  Heaven  grant  it ! "  returned  Sinclair,  thinking  he  referred  to 
the  proposed  negotiation.  "  If  Edward's  offers  be  at  all  reason- 
able, I  would  urge  you  to  accept  them,  otherwise  invasion  from 
without  and  civil  commotion  within  will  probably  make  a 
desert  of  poor  Scotland."  Euthven  interrupted  him.  "De- 
spair not,  my  lord.  Whatever  be  the  fate  of  this  embassy, 
let  us  remember  that  it  is  our  steadiest  friend  who  decides, 
and  that  his  arm  is  still  with  us  to  repel  invasion,  —  to  chas- 
tise treason."  Edwin's  eyes  turned  with  a  direful  expression 
upon  Wallace,  while  he  lowly  murmured,  "  Treason !  hydra 
treason  !  "  Wallace  understood  him,  and  answered,  "  Grievous 
are  the  alternatives,  my  friends,  which  your  love  for  me  would 
persuade  you  even  to  welcome.  But  that  which  I  shall  choose 
will,  I  trust,  indeed  lay  the  land  at  peace,  or  point  its  hos- 
tilities to  the  only  aim  against  which  a  true  Scot  ought  to 
direct  his  sword  at  this  crisis.  " 

Being  arrived  at  the  gate  of  Eoslyn,  Wallace,  regardless  of 
those  ceremonials  which  often  delay  the  business  they  pretend 
to  dignify,  entered  at  once  into  the  hall  where  the  ambassadors 
sat.  Baron  Hilton  was  one,  and  Le  de  Spencer  (father  to  the 
young  and  violent  envoy  of  that  name)  was  the  other.  At 
sight  of  the  Scottish  chief  they  rose,  and  the  good  baron,  be- 
lieving he  came  on  a  propitious  errand,  smiling,  said :  "  Sir 
William  Wallace,  it  is  your  private  ear  I  am  commanded  to 
seek."  While  speaking,  he  looked  on  Sinclair  and  the  other 
lords.  "  These  chiefs  are  as  myself,"  replied  Wallace ;  "  but  I 
will  not  impede  your  embassy  by  crossing  the  wishes  of  your 


HAWTHORNDEAN.  257 

master  in  a  trifle."  He  then  turned  to  his  friends.  "  Indulge 
the  monarch  of  England  in  making  me  the  first  acquainted 
with  that  which  can  only  be  a  message  to  the  whole  nation." 

The  chiefs  withdrew,  and  Hilton,  without  further  parley, 
opened  his  mission.  He  said  that  King  Edward,  more  than 
ever  impressed  with  the  wondrous  military  talents  of  Sir 
William  Wallace,  and  solicitous  to  make  a  friend  of  so  heroic 
an  enemy,  had  sent  him  an  offer  of  grace,  which,  if  he  con- 
temned, must  be  the  last.  He  offered  him  a  theatre  whereon 
he  might  display  his  peerless  endowments  to  the  admiration  of 
the  world ;  the  kingdom  of  Ireland,  with  its  yet  unreaped  fields 
of  glory,  and  all  the  ample  riches  of  its  abundant  provinces, 
should  be  his.  Edward  only  required,  in  return  for  this  royal 
gift,  that  he  should  abandon  the  cause  of  Scotland,  swear 
fealty  to  him  for  Ireland,  and  resign  into  his  hands  one  whom 
he  had  proscribed  as  the  most  ungrateful  of  traitors.  In 
double  acknowledgment  for  the  latter  sacrifice,  Wallace  need 
only  send  to  England  a  list  of  those  Scottish  lords  against 
whom  he  bore  resentment,  and  their  fates  should  be  ordered 
according  to  his  dictates.  Edward  concluded  his  offers  by  in- 
viting him  immediately  to  London  to  be  invested  with  his  new 
sovereignty.  And  Hilton  ended  his  address  by  showing  him 
the  madness  of  abiding  in  a  country  where  almost  every  chief, 
secretly  or  openly,  carried  a  dagger  against  his  life ;  and  there- 
fore he  exhorted  him  no  longer  to  contend  for  a  nation  so 
unworthy  of  freedom  that  it  bore  with  impatience  the  only 
man  who  had  the  courage  to  maintain  its  independence  by 
virtue  alone. 

Wallace  replied  calmly  and  without  hesitation:  "To  this 
message  an  honest  man  can  make  but  one  reply.  As  well 
might  your  sovereign  exact  of  me  to  dethrone  the  angels  of 
heaven  as  to  require  me  to  subscribe  to  his  proposals.  They 
do  but  mock  me,  and  aware  of  my  rejection,  they  are  thus  de- 
livered to  throw  the  whole  blame  of  this  cruelly  persecuting  war 
upon  me.  Edward  knows  that,  as  a  knight,  a  true  Scot,  a»d 
a  man,  I  should  dishonor  myself  to  accept  even  life,  ay,  or  the 
lives  of  all  my  kindred,  upon  these  terms." 

Hilton  interrupted  him  by  declaring  the  sincerity  of  Ed- 
ward, and  contrasting  it  with  the  ingratitude  of  the  people 
whom  he  had  served.  He  conjured  him,  with  every  persuasive 
of  rhetoric,  every  entreaty  dictated  by  a  mind  that  revered 
the  very  firmness  he  strove  to  shake,  to  relinquish  his  faith- 
less country  and  become  the  friend  of  a  king  ready  to  receive 
him  with  open  arms.  Wallace  shook  his  head,  and  with,  an 
VOL.  II.  — 17 


258  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

incredulous  smile,  which  spoke  his  thoughts  of  Edward,  while 
his  eyes  beamed  kindness  upon  Hilton,  he  answered :  "  Can 
the  man  who  would  bribe  me  to  betray  a  friend  be  faithful  in 
his  friendship  ?  But  that  is  not  the  weight  with  me.  I  was 
not  brought  up  in  those  schools,  my  good  baron,  which  teach 
that  sound  policy,  or  true  self-interest,  can  be  separated  from 
virtue.  When  I  was  a  boy,  my  father  often  repeated  to  me 
this  proverb : 

Dico  tibi  verum,  honestas,  optima  rerum, 
Nunquam  servili  sub  nexu  vivitur  fill.1 

I  learnt  it  then,  I  have  since  made  it  the  standard  of  my 
actions,  and  I  answer  your  monarch  in  a  word  :  Were  all  my 
countrymen  to  resign  their  claims  to  the  liberty  which  is  their 
right,  I  alone  would  declare  the  independence  of  my  country ; 
and, '  by  God's  assistance,  while  I  live,  acknowledge  no  other 
master  than  the  laws  of  St.  David  and  the  legitimate  heir  of 
his  blood ! "  The  glow  of  resolute  patriotism  which  over- 
spread his  countenance  while  he  spoke  was  reflected  by  a 
fluctuating  color  on  that  of  Hilton.  "  Noble  chief ! "  cried 
he,  "I  admire,  while  I  regret ;  I  revere  the  virtue  which  I  am 
even  now  constrained  to  denounce.  These  principles,  bravest 
of  men,  might  have  suited  the  simple  ages  of  Greece  and 
Rome ;  a  Phocion  or  a  Fabricius  might  have  uttered  the  like, 
and  compelled  the  homage  of  their  enemies ;  but  in  these  days 
such  magnanimity  is  considered  frenzy,  and  ruin  is  its  conse- 
quence." —  "  And  shall  a  Christian,"  cried  Wallace,  reddening 
with  the  flush  of  honest  shame,  "  deem  the  virtue  which  even 
heathens  practised  with  veneration  of  too  pure  a  nature  to  be 
exercised  by  men  taught  by  Christ  himself?  There  is  blas- 
phemy in  the  idea,  and  I  can  hear  no  more." 

Hilton,  in  some  confusion,  excused  his  argument  by  declar 
ing  that  it  proceeded  from  his  observations  on  the  conduct  of 
men.  "And  shall  we,"  replied  Wallace,  "follow  a  multitude 
to  do  evil  ?  I  act  to  one  Being  alone.  Edward  must  acknowl- 
ecfge  His  supremacy ;  and  by  that  know  that  my  soul  is  above 
all  price  ! "  —  "  Am  I  answered  ?  "  said  Hilton,  and  then, 
hastily  interrupting  himself,  he  added  in  a  voice  even  of  sup- 
plication, "Your  fate  rests  on  your  reply.  Oh,  noblest  of 
warriors,  consider  only  for  a  day !  "  —  "  Not  for  a  moment," 
said  Wallace.  "I  am  sensible  to  your  kindness,  but  my 
answer  to  Edward  has  been  pronounced." 

1  This  saying  of  the  parental  teacher  of  Wallace  is  recorded.  It  means,  "  Know  of  a 
certainty,  that  virtue,  the  best  of  possessions,  never  can  exist  under  the  bond  of  ser- 
vility." 


WALLACE'S    TENT.  259 

Baron  Hilton  turned  sorrowfully  away,  and  Le  de  Spencer 
rose.  "  Sir  William  Wallace,  my  part  of  the  embassy  must  be 
delivered  to  you  in  the  assembly  of  your  chieftains."  —  "  In  the 
congregation  of  my  camp,"  returned  he  ;  and  opening  the  door 
of  the  anteroom  in  which  his  friends  stood,  he  sent  Edwin  to 
summon  his  chiefs  to  the  platform  before  the  council-tent. 


CHAPTER   LXXVII. 

WALLACE'S  TENT. 

WHEN  Wallace  approached  his  tent  he  found  not  only  the 
captains  of  his  own  army  but  the  followers  of  Soulis  and  the 
chieftains  of  Lothian.  He  looked  on  this  range  of  his  enemies 
with  a  fearless  eye,  .and  passing  through  the  crowd  took  his 
station  beside  the  ambassadors  on  the  platform  of  the  tent. 
The  venerable  Hilton  turned  away  with  tears  on  his  veteran 
cheeks  as  the  chief  advanced,  and  Le  de  Spencer  came  forward 
to  speak.  Wallace,  with  a  dignified  action,  requested  his  leave 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then,  addressing  the  congregated  war- 
riors, unfolded  to  them  the  offer  of  Edward  to  him  and  his 
reply.  "  And  now,"  added  he,  "  the  ambassador  of  England 
is  at  liberty  to  declare  his  master's  alternative." 

Le  de  Spencer  again  advanced,  but  the  acclamations  with 
which  the  followers  of  Wallace  acknowledged  the  nobleness  of 
his  answer,  excited  such  an  opposite  clamor  on  the  side  of  the 
Soulis  party,  that  Le  de  Spencer  was  obliged  to  mount  a  war- 
carriage  which  stood  near,  and  to  vociferate  long  and  loudly 
for  silence  before  he  could  be  heard.  But  the  first  words 
which  caught  the  ears  of  his  audience  acted  like  a  spell,  and 
seemed  to  hold  them  in  breathless  attention. 

"  Since  Sir  William  Wallace  rejects  the  grace  of  his  liege 
lord,  Edward,  King  of  England,  offered  to  him  this  once,  and 
never  to  be  again  repeated,  thus  saith  the  king  in  his  clem- 
ency to  the  earls,  barons,  knights,  and  commonalty  of  Scot- 
land :  To  every  one  of  them,  chief  and  vassal,  excepting  the 
aforesaid  incorrigible  rebel,  he,  the  royal  Edward,  grants  an 
amnesty  of  all  their  past  treasons  against  his  sacred  person 
and  rule  ;  provided,  that  within  twenty-four  hours  after  they 
hear  the  words  of  this  proclamation,  they  acknowledge  their 
disloyalty  with  repentance,  and,  laying  down  their  arms, 
swear  eternal  fealty  to  their  only  lawful  ruler,  Edward,  the 


260  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

lord  of  the  whole  island,  from  sea  to  sea."  Le  de  Spencer 
then  proclaimed  the  King  of  England  to  be  now  on  the  borders 
with  an  army  of  a  hundred  thousand  men,  ready  to  march 
with  fire  and  sword  into  the  heart  of  the  kingdom  and  put  to 
the  rack  all  of  every  sex,  age,  and  condition  who  should 
venture  to  dispute  his  rights.  "  Yield,"  added  he,  "  while  you 
may  yet  not  only  grasp  the  mercy  extended  to  you,  but  the 
rewards  and  the  honors  he  is  ready  to  bestow.  Adhere  to 
that  unhappy  man,  and  by  to-morrow's  sunset  your  offended 
king  will  be  on  these  hills,  and  then  mercy  shall  be  no  more. 
Death  is  the  doom  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  and  a  similar  fate 
to  every  Scot  who,  after  this  hour,  dares  to  give  him  food, 
shelter,  or  succor.  He  is  the  prisoner  of  King  Edward,  and 
thus  I  demand  him  at  your  hands." 

Wallace  spoke  not,  but  with  an  unmoved  countenance  looked 
around  upon  the  assembly.  Edwin  precipitated  himself  into 
his  arms.  Bothwell's  full  soul  then  forced  utterance  from  his 
laboring  breast.  "  Tell  your  sovereign,"  cried  he,  "  that  he 
mistakes.  We  are  the  conquerors,  who  ought  to  dictate  terms 
of  peace.  Wallace  is  our  invincible  leader,  our  redeemer  from 
slavery,  the  earthly  hope  in  whom  we  trust,  and  it  is  not  in 
the  power  of  men  nor  devils  to  bribe  us  to  betray  our  ben- 
efactor. Away  to  your  king,  and  tell  him  that  Andrew 
Murray,  and  every  honest  Scot,  is  ready  to  live  or  to  die  by  the 
side  of  Sir  William  Wallace."  —  "And  by  this  good  sword  I 
swear  the  same,"  cried  Ruthven.  —  "  And  so  do  I,  "  rejoined 
Scrymgeour,  "  or  may  the  standard  of  Scotland  be  my  wind- 
ing-sheet." —  "  Or  may  the  Clyde  swallow  us  up  quick,"  ex- 
claimed Lockhart,  of .  Lee,  shaking  his  mailed  hand  at  the 
ambassadors. 

But  not  another  chief  spoke  for  Wallace.  Even  Sinclair 
was  intimidated,  and  like  others  who  wished  him  well,  feared 
to  utter  his  sentiments.  But  most  —  oh,  shame  to  Scotland 
and  to  man  !  —  cast  up  their  bonnets,  and  cried  aloud,  "Long 
live  King  Edward,  the  only  legitimate  lord  of  Scotland !  "  At 
this  outcry,  which  was  echoed  even  by  some  in  whom  he  had 
confided,  while  it  pealed  around  him  like  a  burst  of  thunder, 
Wallace  threw  out  his  arms,  as  if  he  would  yet  protect  Scot- 
land from  herself.  "  Oh,  desolate  people !  "  exclaimed  he,  in  a 
voice  of  piercing  woe,  "  too  credulous  of  fair  speeches,  and  not 
aware  of  the  calamities  which  are  coming  upon  you  !  Call  to 
remembrance  tne  miseries  you  have  suffered,  and  start,  before 
it  be  too  late,  from  this  last  snare  of  your  oppressor.  Have  I 
yet  to  tell  ye  that  his  embrace  is  death  ?  Oh,  look  yet  to 


WALLACE'S    TENT.  261 

Heaven  and  ye  shall  find  a  rescue !  "  Bruce  seemed  to  rise  at 
that  moment,  in  pale  but  gallant  apparition,  before  his  soul.1 

"  Seize  that  rebellious  man  !  "  cried  Soulis  to  his  marshals. 
"In  the  name  of  the  King  of  England  I  command  you." 
—  "  And  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  kings  I  denounce  death 
on  him  who  attempts  it ! "  exclaimed  Bothwell,  throwing  himself 
between  Wallace  and  the  men ;  "  put  forth  a  hostile  hand 
towards  him,  and  this  bugle  shall  call  a  thousand  resolute 
swords  to  lay  this  platform  in  blood.  " 

Soulis,  followed  by  his  knights,  pressed  forward  to  execute 
his  treason  himself.  •  Scrymgeour,  Euthven,  Lockhart,  and 
Ker  rushed  before  their  friend.  Edwin,  starting  forward, 
drew  his  sword,  and  the  clash  of  steel  was  heard.  Bdthwell 
and  Soulis  grappled  together  ;  the  falchion  of  Ruthven  gleamed 
amidst  a  hundred  swords,  and  blood  flowed  around.  The 
voice,  the  arm  of  Wallace  in  vain  sought  to  enforce  peace ; 
he  was  not  heard,  he  was  not  felt,  in  the  dreadful  warfare. 
Ker  fell  with  a  gasp  at  his  feet,  and  breathed  no  more.  At 
such  a  sight,  the  soul-struck  Wallace  wrung  his  hands  and  ex- 
claimed in  bitter  anguish,  "  Oh,  my  country  !  was  it  for  these 
horrors  that  my  Marion  died?  that  I  became  a  homeless 
wretch,  and  passed  my  days  and  nights  in  fields  of  carnage  ? 
Venerable  Mar,  dear  and  valiant  Graham-!  is  this  the  consum- 
mation for  which  you  fell  ?  "  At  that  moment  Bothwell,  hav- 
ing disabled  Soulis,  would  have  blown  his  bugle  to  call  up  his 
men  to  a  general  conflict,  but  Wallace  snatched  the  horn  from 
his  hand,  and  springing  upon  the  very  war-carriage  from 
which  Le  de  Spencer  had  proclaimed  Edward's  embassy,  he 
drew  forth  his  sword,  and  stretching  the  mighty  arm  that  held 
it  over  the  throng,  with  more  than  mortal  energy  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Peace !  men  of  Scotland,  and  for  the  last  time  hear 
the  voice  of  William  Wallace."  A  dead  silence  immediately 
ensued,  and  he  proceeded :  "  If  you  have  aught  of  nobleness 
within  ye ;  if  a  delusion  more  fell  than  witchcraft  have  not 
blinded  your  senses,  look  beyond  this  field  of  horror,  and  be- 
hold your  country  free.  Edward,  in  these  apparent  demands, 
sues  for  peace.  Did  we  not  drive  his  armies  into  the  sea  ?  And 
were  we  resolved  he  never  could  cross  our  borders  more? 
What  is  it,  then,  you  do,  when  you  again  put  your  necks  under 
his  yoke  ?  Did  he  not  seek  to  bribe  me  to  betray  you  ?  and 
yet,  when  I  refuse  to  purchase  life,  and  the  world's  rewards, 
by  such  baseness,  you  —  you  forget  that  you  are  free-born 
Scots ;  that  you  are  the  victors,  and  he  the  vanquished,  and 

1  This  speech  is  almost  verbatim  from  one  of  our  old  historians.  —  (1809.) 


262  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

you  give,  not  sell,  your  birthright  to  the  demands  of  a  tyrant ! 
You  yield  yourselves  to  his  extortions,  his  oppressions,  his 
revenge !  Think  not  he  will  spare  the  people  he  would  have 
sold  to  purchase  his  bitterest  enemy;  or  allow  them  to  live 
unmanacled  who  possess  the  power  of  resistance.  On  the  day 
in  which  you  are  in  his  hands,  you  will  feel  that  you  have  ex- 
changed honor  for  disgrace,  liberty  for  bondage,  life  for  death. 
Me  you  abhor,  and  may  God,  in  your  extremest  hour,  forget 
that  injustice  and  pardon  the  faithful  blood  you  ,have  shed 
this  day !  I  draw  this  sword  for  you  no  more.  But  there  yet 
lives  a  prince,  a  descendant  of  the  royal  heroes  of  Scotland, 
whom  Providence  may  conduct  to  be  your  preserver.  Reject 
the  proposals  of  Edward,  dare  to  defend  the  freedom  you  now 
possess,  and  that  prince  will  soon  appear  to  crown  your 
patriotism  with  glory  and  happiness." 

"  We  acknowledge  no  prince  but  King  Edward  of  England," 
cried  Buchan.  "His  countenance  is  our  glory,  his  presence 
our  happiness."  The  exclamation  was  reiterated  by  a  most 
disgraceful  majority  on  the  ground.  Wallace  was  transfixed. 
"  Then,"  cried  Le  de  Spencer,  in  the  first  pause  of  the  tumult, 
"  to  every  man,  woman,  and  .  child  throughout  the  realm  of 
Scotland,  excepting  Sir  William  Wallace,  I  proclaim,  in  the 
name  of  King  Edward,  pardon  and  peace." 

At  these  words  several  hundred  Scottish  chieftains  dropped 
on  their  knees  before  Le  de  Spencer  and  murmured  their  vows 
of  fealty.  Indignant,  grieved,  Wallace  took  his  helmet  from 
his  head,  and  throwing  his  sword  into  the  hand  of  Bothwell, 
"  That  weapon,"  cried  he,  "  which  I  wrested  from  this  very  King 
Edward,  and  with  which  I  twice  drove  him  from  our  borders, 
I  give  to  you.  In  your  hands  it  may  again  serve  Scotland.  I 
relinquish  a  soldier's  name  on  the  spot  where  I  humbled  Eng- 
land three  times  in  one  day,  where  I  now  see  my  victorious 
country  deliver  herself,  bound,  into  the  grasp  of  the  vanquished. 
I  go  without  sword  or  buckler  from  this  dishonored  field;  and 
what  Scot,  my  public  or  private  enemy,  will  dare  to  strike  the 
unguarded  head  of  William  Wallace  ? "  As  he  spoke  he 
threw. his  shield  and  helmet  to  the  ground,  and  leaping  from 
the  war-carriage,  took  his  course,  with  a  fearless  and  dignified 
step,  through  the  parting  ranks  of  his  enemies,  who,  awe-struck, 
or  kept  in  check  by  a  suspicion  that  others  might  not  second 
the  attack  they  would  have  made  on  him,  durst  not  lift  an  arm 
or  breathe  a  word  as  he  passed. 

Wallace  had  adopted  this  manner  of  leaving  the  ground  in 
hopes,  if  it  were  possible,  to  awaken  the  least  spark  of  honor  in 


BANKS    OF    THE    ESKE.  263 

the  breasts  of  his  persecutors  to  prevent  the  bloodshed  which 
must  ensue  between  his  friends  and  them  should  they  attempt 
to  seize  him.  Edwin  and  Bothwell  immediately  followed  him, 
but  Lockhart  and  Scrymgeour  remained  to  take  charge  of  the 
remains  of  the  faithful  Ker,1  and  to  observe  the  tendency  of 
the  tumult  which  began  to  murmur  amongst  the  lower  orders 
of  the  by-standers. 


CHAPTER   LXXVIII. 

BANKS    OF    THE   ESKE. 

A  VAGUE  suspicion  of  the  regent  and  his  thanes,  and  yet  a 
panic-struck  pusillanimity  which  shrunk  from  supporting  that 
Wallace  whom  those  thanes  chose  to  abandon,  carried  the 
spirit  of  slavery  from  the  platform  before  the  council-tent  to 
the  chieftains  who  thronged  the  ranks  of  Ruthven,  and  even 
to  the  perversion  of  some  few  who  had  followed  the  golden- 
haired  standard  of  Bothwell.  The  brave  troops  of  Lanark 
(which  the  desperate  battle  of  Dalkeith  had  reduced  to  not 
more  than  sixty  men)  alone  remained  unmoved,  so  catching 
is  the  quailing  spirit  of  doubt,  abjectness,  and  fearful  sub- 
mission. 

In  the  moment  when  the  indignant  Ruthven  saw  his  Perth- 
shire legions  rolling  off  towards  the  trumpet  of  Le  de  Spencer, 
Scrymgeour  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  men  of  Lanark. 
Unfurling  the  banner  of  Scotland,  he  marched  with  a  steady 
step  to  the  tent  of  Bothwell,  whither  he  did  not  doubt  that 
Wallace  had  retired.  He  found  him  assuaging  the  impassioned 
grief  of  Edwin,  and  striving  to  moderate  the  vehement  wrath 
of  the  faithful  Murray.  "Pour  not  out  the  energy  of  your 
soul  upon  these  worthless  men,"  he  said  ;  "  leave  them  to  the 
fates  they  seek,  —  the  fates  they  have  incurred  by  the  innocent 
blood  shed  this  day.  The  few  brave  hearts  who  yet  remain 
loyal  to  their  country  are  insufficient  to  stem  at  this  spot  the 
torrent  of  corruption.  Retire  beyond  the  Forth,  my  friend. 
Rally  all  true  Scots  around  Hunting-tower/  Let  the  royal  in- 
mate proclaim  himself,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  Grampians  lock 
the  gates  of  the  Highlands  upon  our  enemies.  From  those 

i  It  is  said  that  this  gallant  young  chief  was  the  ancestor  of  the  Kers,  of  Kersland.  His 
dying  in  defence  of  Wallace  is  no  fiction.  Indeed,  there  is  hardly  a  name  here  that  ia 
not  authorized.  He  was  therefore  a  progenitor  of  the  Kera,  of  Roxburgh.  —  (1809.) 


264  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

bulwarks  he  will  issue  in  strength,  and  Scotland  may  again  be 
free. " 

"Free,  but  never  more  honored/7  cried  Edwin;  "never 
more  beloved  by  me.  Ungrateful,  treacherous,  base  land," 
added  he,  starting  on  his  feet  and  raising  his  clasped  hands 
with  the  vehement  adjuration  of  an  indignant  spirit.  "Oh 
that  the  salt  sea  would  ingulf  thee  at  once,  that  thy  name  and 
thy  ingratitude  could  be  no  more  remembered  !  I  will  never 
wear  a  sword  for  her  again.71  —  "Edwin  !  "  ejaculated  Wallace, 
in  a  reproachful,  yet  tender,  tone.  —  "  Exhort  me  not  to  forgive 
my  country,"  returned  he.  "Tell  me  to  take  my  deadliest 
foe  to  my  breast,  to  pardon  the  assassin  who  strikes  his  stee] 
into  my  heart,  and  I  will  obey  you ;  but  to  pardon  Scotland 
for  the  injury  she  has  done  to  you,  for  the  disgrace  with  which 
her  self-debasement  stains  this  cheek,  I  never,  never  can.  I 
abhor  these  sons  of  Lucifer.  Think  not,  noblest  of  masters, 
dearest  of  friends,"  cried  he,  throwing  himself  at  Wallace's 
feet,  "  that  I  will  ever  shine  in  the  light  of  those  envious  stars 
which  have  displaced  the  sun.  No,  tibi  soli J  shall  henceforth 
be  the  impress  on  my  shield.  To  thee  alone  will  I  ever  turn, 
and  till  your  beams  restore  your  country  and  revive  me,  the 
springing  laurels  of  Edwin  Ruthven  shall  wither  where  they 
grew."  Wallace  folded  him  to  his  heart,  a  tear  stood  in  his 
eye,  while  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  If  thpu  art  mine,  thou  art 
Scotland's.  Me  she  rejects.  Mysterious  Heaven  wills  that  I 
should  quit  my  post ;  but  for  thee,  Edwin,  as  a  relic  of  the 
fond  love  I  yet  bear  this  wretched  country,  abide  by  her,  bear 
with  her,  cherish  her,  defend  her  for  my  sake,  and  if  Bruce 
lives,  he  will  be  to  thee  a  second  Wallace,  a  friend,  a 
brother."  Edwin  listened,  wept,  and  sobbed,  but  his  heart 
was  fixed.  Unable  to  speak,  he  broke  from  his  friend's  arms 
and  hurried  into  an  interior  apartment  to  subdue  his  emotions 
by  pouring  them  forth  to  God. 

Ruthven  joined  in  determined  opinion  with  Bothwell,  that 
if  ever  a  civil  war  could  be  sanctified  this  was  the  time,  and 
in  spite  of  all  that  Wallace  could  urge  against  the  madness  of 
contending  for  his  supremacy  over  a  nation  which  would  not 
yield  him  obedience,  still  they  remained  firm  in  their  resolu- 
tion. Bruce  they 'hardly  dared  hope  could  recover,  and  to  re- 
linquish the  guiding  hand  of  their  best  approved  leader  at 
tnis  crisis  was  a  sacrifice,  they  said,  no  earthly  power  should 
compel  them  to  make.  "  So  far  from  it,"  cried  Lord  Bothwell, 
dropping  on  his  knees  and  grasping  the  cross  hilt  of  his 

1  Since  this  period,  tibi  soli  is  one  of  the  mottoes  borne  by  the  house  of  Ruthven. 


BANKS    OF    THE    ESKE.  265 

sword  in  both  hands,  "  I  swear  by  the  blood  of  the  crucified 
Lord  of  this  ungrateful  world,  that  should  Bruce  die,  I  will 
obey  110  other  king  of  Scotland  than  "William  Wallace." 
Wallace  turned  ashy  pale  as  he  listened  to  this  vow.  At  that 
moment  Scrymgeour  entered  followed  by  the  Lanark  veter- 
ans, and,  all  kneeling  down,  repeated  the  oath  of  Both  well ; 
then  starting  up,  called  on  the  outraged  chief,  by  the  unburied 
corse  of  his  murdered  Ker,  to  lead  them  forth  and  avenge 
them  of  his  enemies. 

When  the  agitation  of  his  soul  would  allow  him  to  speak 
to  this  faithful  group,  Wallace  stretched  his  hands  over  them, 
and  with  such  tears  as  a  father  would  shed  who  looks  on  the 
children  he  is  to  behold  no  more,  he  said,  in  a  subdued  and 
faltering  voice,  u  God  will  avenge  our  murdered  friend ;  my 
sword  is  sheathed  forever.  May  that  holy  Being,  who  is  the 
true  and  best  King  of  the  virtuous,  always  be  present  with 
you !  I  feel  your  love,  and  I  appreciate  it.  But,  Bothwell, 
Euthven,  Lockhart,  Scrymgeour,  my  faithful  Lanark  followers, 
leave  me  awhile  to  compose  my  scattered  thoughts.  Let  me 
pass  this  night  alone,  and  to-morrow  you  shall  know  the  res- 
olution of  your  grateful  Wallace." 

The  shades  of  evening  were  closing  in,  and  the  men  of 
Lanark,  first  obtaining  his  permission  to  keep  guard  before  the 
wood  which  skirted  the  tent,  respectively  kissing  his  hand, 
withdrew.  Euthven  called  Edwin  from  the  recess  whither  he 
had  retired  to  unburden  his  grief,  but  as  soon  as  he  heard  that 
it  was  the  resolution  of  his  friends  to  preserve  the  authority 
of  Wallace,  or  to  perish  in  the  contest,  the  gloom  passed  from 
his  fair  brow,  a  smile  of-  triumph  parted  his  lips,  and  he  ex- 
claimed, "  All  will  be  well  again.  We  shall  force  this  deluded 
nation  to  recognize  her  safety  and  her  honor." 

While  the  determined  chiefs  held  discourse  so  congenial 
with  the  wishes  of  the  youthful  knight,  Wallace  sat  almost 
silent.  He  seemed  revolving  some  momentous  idea ;  he  fre- 
quently /turned  his  ayes  on  the  speakers  with  a  fixed  regard; 
which  appeared  rather  full  of  a  grave  sorrow  than  demonstra- 
tive of  any  sympathy  in  the  subjects  of  their  discussion.  On 
Edwin  he  at  times  looked  with  penetrating  tenderness,  and 
when  the  bell  from  the  neighboring  convent  sounded  the  hour 
of  rest,  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  him  with  a  smile  which 
he  wished  should  speak  of  comfort  as  well  as  of  affection.  But 
the  soul  spoke  more  eloquently  than  he  had  intended;  his 
smile  was  mournful,  and  the  attempt  to  render  it  otherwise, 
like  a  transient  light  over  a  dark  sepulchre,  only  the  inoie 


266  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

distinctly  showed  the  gloom  and  melancholy  within.  "  And  am 
I  too  to  leave  you  ?  "  said  Edwin.  "  Yes,  my  brother,"  replied 
Wallace  ;  "  I  have  much  to  do  with  my  own  thoughts  this  night. 
We  separate  now  to  meet  more  gladly  hereafter.  I  must  have 
solitude  to  arrange  my  plans.  To-morrow  you  shall  know 
them.  Meanwhile,  farewell !  "  As  he  spoke  he  pressed  the 
affectionate  youth  to  his  breast,  and  warmly  grasping  the  hands 
of  his  three  other  friends,  bade  them  an  earnest  adieu. 

Bothwell  lingered  a  moment  at  the  tent  door,  and  looking 
back  —  "  Let  your  first  plan  be  that  to-morrow  you  lead  us  to 
Lord  Soulis's  quarters  to  teach  the  traitor  what  it  is  to  be  a 
Scot  and  a  man."  —  "My  plans  shall  be  deserving  of  my 
brave  colleagues,"  replied  Wallace,  "and  whether  they  be 
executed  on  this  or  the  other  side  of  the  Forth,  you  shall  find, 
my  long-tried  Bothwell,  that  Scotland's  peace  and  the  honor 
of  her  best  sons  are  the  dearest  considerations  of  your  friend." 

When  the  door  closed,  and  Wallace  was  left  alone,  he  stood 
for  awhile  in  the  midst  of  the  tent  listening  to  the  departing 
steps  of  his  friends.  When  the  last  sound  died  on  his  ear, 
"  I  shall  hear  them  no  more,"  cried  he,  and,  throwing  himself 
into  a  seat,  he  remained  for  an  hour  in  a  trance  of  grievous 
thoughts.  Melancholy  remembrances  and  prospects  dire  for 
Scotland  pressed  upon  his  surcharged  heart.  "  It  is  to  God 
alone  I  must  confide  my  country,"  cried  he ;  "  his  mercy  will 
pity  its  madness  and  forgive  its  deep  transgressions.  My 
duty  is  to  remove  the  object  of  ruin  far  from  the  power  of  any 
longer  exciting  jealousy  or  awakening  zeal."  With  these 
words  he  took  a  pen  in  his  hand  to  write  to  Bruce. 

He  briefly  narrated  the  events  which  compelled  him,  if  he 
would  avoid  the  grief  of  having  occasioned  a  civil  war,  to  quit 
his  country  /forever.  The  general  hostility  of  the  nobles,  the 
unresisting  acquiescence  of  the  people  in  measures  which 
menaced  his  life  and  sacrificed  the  freedom  for  which  he  had 
so  long  fought,  convinced  him,  he  said,  that  his  warlike  com- 
mission was  now  closed.  He  was  summoned  by  Heaven  to  ex- 
change the  field  for  the  cloister,  and  to  the  monastery  at 
Chartres  he  was  now  hastening  to  dedicate  the  remainder  of 
his  days  to  the  peace  of  a  future  world.  He  then  exhorted 
Bruce  to  confide  in  the  Lords  Kuthven  and  Bothwell,  as  his 
soul  would  commune  with  his  spirit,  for  that  he  would  find 
them  true  unto  death.  He  counselled  him,  as  the  leading 
measure  to  circumvent  the  treason  of  Scotland's  enemies,  to  go 
immediately  to  Kilchurn  castle,  where  he  knew  resources 
would  be ;  for  Loch-awe,  who  retired  thither  on  the  last 


BANKS    OF    THE    ESKE.  267 

approach  of  De  Warenne  meaning  to  call  out  his  vassals  for  that 
emergency,  needed  it  not  then  ;  for  the  battle  .of  Dalkeith  was 
fought  and  gained  before  they  could  leave  their  heights,  and 
the  victor  did  not  want  them  afterwards.  To  use  those  brave 
and  simple-hearted  men  for  his  establishment  on  the  throne 
of  his  kingdom,  Wallace  advised  Bruce.  And  so,  amidst  the 
natural  fortresses  of  the  Highlands,  he  might  recover  his 
health,  collect  his  friends,  and  openly  proclaim  himself. 
"  Then,"  added  he,  "  when  Scotland  is  your  own,  let  its  bul- 
warks be  its  mountains  and  its  people's  arms.  Dismantle  and 
jraze  to  the  ground  the  castles  of  those  base  chiefs  who  have 
only  embattled  them  to  betray  and  enslave  their  country." 
Though  intent  on  these  political  suggestions  he  ceased  not  to 
remember  his  own  brave  engines  of  war,  and  he  earnestly  con- 
jured his  prince  that  he  would  wear  the  valiant  Kirkpatrick 
as  a  buckler  on  his  heart,  that  he  would  place  Scrymgeour, 
with  his  Lanark  veterans,  and  the  faithful  G-rimsby,  next  him 
as  his  body  guard,  and  that  he  would  love  and  cherish  the 
brave  and  tender  Edwin  for  his  sake.  "  When  my  prince  and 
friend  receives  this,"  added  he,  "  Wallace  shall  have  bidden  an 
eternal  farewell  to  Scotland,  but  his  heart  will  be  amidst  its 
hills.  My  king  and  the  friends  most  dear  to  me  will  still  be 
there.  The  earthly  part  of  my  beloved  wife  rests  within  its 
bosom ;  but  I  go  to  rejoin  her  soul,  to  meet  it  in  the  vigils 
of  days  consecrated  wholly  to  the  blessed  Being  in  whose 
presence  she  rejoices  forever.  This  is  no  sad  destiny,  my 
dear  Bruce.  Our  Almighty  Captain  recalls  me  from  dividing 
with  you  the  glory  of  maintaining  the  liberty  of  Scotland ;  but 
he  brings  me  closer  to  himself.  I  leave  the  plains  of  Gilgal  to 
tread  with  his  angel  the  courts  of  my  God.  Mourn  not,  then, 
my  absence ;  for  my  prayers  will  be  with  you  till  we  are  again 
united  in  the  only  place  where  you  can  fully  know  me  as  I  am  — 
thine  and  Scotland's  never-dying  friend.  Start  not  at  the  bold 
epithet.  My  body  may  sink  into  the  grave,  but  the  affections 
of  my  immortal  spirit  are  eternal  as  its  essence,  and  in  earth 
or  in  heaven  I  am  ever  yours. 

"  Should  the  endearing  Helen  —  my  heart's  sister  —  be  near 
your  couch  when  you  read  this,  tell  her  that  Wallace,  in  idea, 
presses  her  virgin  cheek  with  a  brother's  farewell,  and  from 
his  inmost  soul  he  blesses  her." 

Messages  of  respectful  adieus  he  sent  to  Isabella,  Lady 
Buthven,  and  the  sage  of  Ercildown,  and  then  kneeling  down 
in  that  posture  he  wrote  his  last  invocations  for  the  prosperity 
and  happiness  of  Bruce. 


268  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

This  letter  finished,  with  a  more  tranquil  mind  he  addressed 
Lord  Euthven,  detailing,  to  him  his  reasons  for  leaving  such 
faithful  friends  so  clandestinely  ;  and  after  mentioning  his 
purpose  of  proceeding  to  France,  he  ended  with  those  expres- 
sions of  gratitude  which  the  worthy  chief  so  well  deserved, 
and  exhorting  him  to  transfer  his  public  zeal  for  him  to  the 
magnanimous  and  royal  Bruce,  closed  the  letter  with  begging 
him,  for  the  sake  of  his  friend,  his  king,  and  his  country,  to  re- 
turn immediately  with  all  his  followers  to  Hunting-tower,  and 
there  to  rally  round  their  prince.  His  letter  to  Scrymgeoii! 
spoke  nearly  the  same  language.  But  when  he  began  to  write 
to  Bothwell,  to  bid  him  that  farewell  which  his  heart  fore- 
boded would  be  forever  in  this  world,  to  part  from  this  his 
steady  companion  in  arms,  his  dauntless  champion,  he  lost 
some  of  his  composure,  and  his  handwriting  testified  the 
emotion  of  his  mind.  How,  then,  was  he  shaken  when  he 
addressed  the  young  and  devoted  Edwin,  the  brother  of  his 
soul !  He  dropped  the  pen  from  his  hand.  At  that  moment  he 
felt  all  he  was  going  to  relinquish,  and  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Scot- 
land !  my  ungrateful  country,  what  is  it  you  do  ?  Is  it  thus 
that  you  repay  your  most  faithful  servants  ?  Is  it  not  enough 
that  the  wife  of  my  bosom,  the  companion  of  my  youth,  should 
be  torn  from  me  by  your  enemies,  but  yonr  hand  must  wrest 
from  my  bereaved  heart  its  every  other  solace  ?  You  snatch 
from  me  my  friends ;  you  would  deprive  me  of  my  life.  To 
preserve  you  from  that  crime  I  embitter  the  cup  of  death ;  I 
go  far  from  the  tombs  of  my  fathers,  from  the  grave  of  my 
Marion,  where  I  had  fondly  hoped  to  rest."  His  head  sank 
on  his  arm ;  his  heart  gave  way  under  the  pressure  of  accumu- 
lated regrets,  and  floods  of  tears  poured  from  his  eyes.  Deep 
and  frequent  were  his  sighs ;  but  none  answered  him. 
Friendship  was  far  distant ;  and  where  was  that  gentle  being 
who  would  have  soothed  his  sorrow  on  her  bosom  ?  She  it 
was  he  lamented.  "  Dreary,  dreary  solitude  !  "  cried  he,  look- 
ing around  him  with  an  aghast  perception  of  all  that  he  had 
lost ;  "  how  have  I  been  mocked  for  these  three  long  years  I 
What  is  renown  ?  what  the  loud  acclaim  of  admiring  throngs  ? 
what  the  bended  knees  of  worshipping  gratefulness,  but  breath 
and  vapor  !  It  seems  to  shelter  the  mountain's  top  ;  the  blast 
comes,  it  rolls  from  its  sides,  and  the  lonely  hill  is  left  to  all 
the  storm.  So  stand  I,  my  Marion,  when  bereft  of  thee.  In 
weal  or  woe,  thy  smiles,  thy  warm  embrace,  were  mine ;  my 
head  reclined  on  that  faithful  breast,  and  still  I  found  my 
home,  my  heaven.  But  now,  desolate  and  alone,  rui«  is 


BANKS    OF    THE    ESKE.  269 

around  me.  Destruction  waits  on  all  who  would  steal  one 
pang  from  the  racked  heart  of  William  Wallace  !  even  pity  is 
no  more  for  me.  Take  me,  then,  O  Power  of  Mercy  ! "  cried 
he,  stretching  forth  his  hands,  "  take  me  to  thyself  ! " 

At  these  words  a  peal  of  thunder  burst  on  his  ear  and 
seemed  to  roll  over  his  tent,  till  passing  off  towards  the  west, 
it  died  away  in  long  and  solemn  reverberation.  Wallace  rose 
from  his  knee,  on  which  he  had  sunk  at  this  awful  response 
to  his  heaven-directed  adjuration.  "Thou  callest  me,  my 
Father ! "  cried  he,  with  a  holy  confidence  dilating  his  soul ; 
"  I  go  from  the  world  to  thee  !  — I  come,  and  before  thy  altars 
shall  know  no  human  weakness." 

In  a  paroxysm  of  sacred  enthusiasm  he  rushed  from  the  tent, 
and  reckless  whither  he  went,  struck  into  the  depths  of  Koslyn 
woods.  With  the  steps  of  the  wind  he  pierced  their  remotest 
thickets.  He  reached  their  boundary  ;  it  was  traversed  by  a 
rapid  stream,  but  that  did  not  stop  his  course,  he  sprang  over 
it,  and  ascending  its  moonlit  bank,  was  startled  by  the  sound 
of  his  name.  Grimsby,  attended  by  a  youth,  stood  before  him. 
The  veteran  expressed  amazement  at  meeting  his  master  alone 
at  this  hour,  unhelmeted  and  unarmed,  and  in  so  dangerous  a 
direction.  "The  road/'  said  he,  "between  this  and  Stirling 
is  beset  with  your  enemies."  Instead  of  noticing  this  informa- 
tion, Wallace  inquired  what  news  he  brought  from  Hunting- 
tower.  "The  worst,"  said  he.  "By  this  time  the  royal  Bruce 
is  no  more ! "  Wallace  gasped  convulsively,  and  fell  against 
a  tree.  Grimsby  paused.  In  a  few  minutes  the  heart-struck 
chief  was  able  to  speak.  "  Listen  not  to  my  groans  for  un- 
happy Scotland,"  cried  he ;  "  show  me  all  that  is  in  this  last 
phial  of  wrath." 

Grimsby  informed  him  that  Bruce  being  so  far  recovered  as 
to  have  left  his  sick  chamber  for  the  family  apartment,  while 
he  was  sitting  with  the  ladies  a  letter  was  brought  to  Lady 
Helen.  She  opened  it,  read  a  few  lines,  and  fell  senseless  into 
the  arms  of  her  sister.  Bruce  snatched  up  the  packet,  but  not 
a  word  did  he  speak  till  he  had  perused  it  to  the  end.  It  was 
from  the  Countess  Strathearn,  written  in  the'  triumph  of  re- 
venge, cruelly  exulting  in  what  she  termed  the  demonstration 
of  Wallace's  guilt,  congratulating  herself  on  having  been  the 
primary  means  of  discovering  it,  and  boasting  that  his  once 
adoring  Scotland  now  held  him  in  such  detestation  as  to  have 
doomed  him  to  die.  It  was  this  denunciation  which  had 
struck  to  the  soul  of  Helen ;  and  while  the  anxious  Lady 
Euthven  removed  her  inanimate  form  into  another  room,  Bruce 


270  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

read  the  barbarous  triumphs  of  this  disappointed  woman. 
"No  power  on  earth  can  save  him  now,"  continued  she;  "your 
doating  heart  must  yield  him,  Helen,  to  another  rest  than 
your  bridal  chamber.  His  iron  breast  has  met  with  others  as 
adamantine  as  his  own.  A  hypocrite !  he  feels  not  pity,  he 
knows  no  beat  of  human  sympathies,  and  like  a  rock  he  falls, 
unpitied,  undeplored,  —  undeplored  by  all  but  you,  lost,  self- 
deluded  girl!  My  noble  lord,  the  princely  De  Warenne, 
informs  me  that  William  Wallace  would  be  burned  as  a  double 
traitor  in  England,  and  a  price  is  now  set  upon  his  head  in 
Scotland,  hence  there  is  safety  for  him  no  more.  Those  his 
base-born  heart  has  outraged  shall  be  avenged,  and  his  cries 
for  mercy,  who  will  answer  ?  No  voice  on  earth.  None  will 
dare  support  the  man  whom  friends  and  enemies  abandon  to 
destruction." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Bruce,  starting  from  his  seat,  "  I  will  support 
him,  thou  damned  traitress!  Bruce  will  declare  himself. 
Bruce  will  throw  himself  before  his  friend,  and  in  his  breast 
receive  every  arrow  meant  for  that  godlike  heart.  Yes,"  cried 
he,  glancing  on  the  terrified  looks  of  Isabella,  who  believed 
that  his  delirium  was  returned,  "  I  would  snatch  him  in  these 
arms  from  their  murderous  flames,  did  all  the  fiends  of  hell 
guard  their  infernal  fire !  "  Not  a  word  more  did  he  utter,  but 
darting  from  the  apartment  was  soon  seen  before  the  barbican- 
gate  armed  from  head  to  foot.  Grimsby  stood  there,  to  whom 
he  called  to  bring  him  a  horse,  "  For  that  the  Light  of  Scotland 
was  in  danger."  Grimsby,  who  understood  by  that  term  his 
beloved  master  was  in  peril,  instantly  obeyed ;  and  Bruce,  as 
instantly  mounting,  struck  his  rowels  into  the  horse  and  was 
out  of  sight  ere  Grimsby  could  reach  his  stirrup  to  follow. 

But  that  faithful  soldier  speeded  after  him  like  the  wind, 
and  came  in  view  of  Bruce  just  as  he  was  leaping  a  chasm  in 
the  mountain  path.  The  horse  struck  his  heel  against  a  loose 
stone,  and  it  giving  way  he  fell  headlong  into  the  deep  ravine. 
At  the  moment  of  his  disappearance,  Grimsby  rushed  towards 
the  spot  and  saw  the  animal  struggling  in  the  agonies  of  death 
at  the  bottom.  Bruce  lay  insensible  amongst  some  bushes 
which  grew  nearer  the  top.  With  difficulty  the  honest  Eng- 
lishman got  him  dragged  to  the  surface  of  the  hill,  and  finding 
all  attempts  to  recover  him  ineffectual,  he  laid  him  on  his  own 
beast  and  so  carried  him  slowly  back  to  the  castle.  The  as- 
siduities of  the  sage  of  Ercildown  restored  him  to  life,  but  not 
to  recollection.  "The  fever  returned  on  him  with  a  delirium 
so  hopeless  of  recovery,"  continued  Grimsby,  "  that  the  Lady 


BANKS    OF    THE    ESKE.  271 

Helen,  who  again  seems  like  an  inspired  angel  amongst  us,  has 
sent  me  with  this  youth  to  implore  you  to  come  to  Hunting- 
tower,  and  there  embattle  yourself  against  your  own  and  your 
prince's  enemies." 

"  Send  me,"  cried  Walter  Hay,  grasping  Wallace's  hand,  — • 
"  send  me  back  to  Lady  Helen,  and  let  me  tell  her  that  our 
benefactor,  the  best  guardian  of  our  country,  will  not  abandon 
us.  Should  you  depart,  Scotland's  genius  will  go  with  you, 
Again  she  must  sink,  again  she  will  be  in  ruins.  De  Valence 
will  regain  possession  of  my  dear  lady,  and  you  will  not  be 
near  to  save  her." 

"  Grimsby,  Walter,  my  friends  !  "  cried  Wallace,  in  an  agi- 
tated voice ,  "  I  do  not  abandon  Scotland,  she  drives  me  from 
her.  Would  she  have  allowed  me,  I  would  have  borne  her  in 
my  arms  until  my  latest  gasp ;  but  it  must  not  be  so.  I  resign 
her  into  the  Almighty  hands  to  which  I  commit  myself;  they 
will  also  preserve  the  Lady  Helen  from  violence.  I  cannot 
forego  my  trust  for  the  Bruce  also.  If  he  live  he  will  protect 
her  for  my  sake  ;  and  should  he  die,  Bothwell  and  Ruthven 
will  cherish  her  for  their  own."  —  "  But  you  will  return  with 
us  to  Hunting-tower,"  cried  Grimsby.  "  Disguised  in  these 
peasant's  garments,  which  we  have  brought  for  the  purpose, 
you  may  pass  through  the  legions  of  the  regent  with  perfect 
security."  —  "  Let  me  implore  you,  if  not  for  your  own  sake, 
for  ours.  Pity  our  desolation,  and  save  yourself  for  them 
who  can  know  no  safety  when  you  are  gone."  Walter  clung 
to  his  arm  while  uttering  this  supplication.  Wallace  looked 
tenderly  upon  him.  "  I  would  save  myself ;  and  I  will,  please 
God,"  said  he,  "  but  by  no  means  unworthy  of  myself.  I  go, 
but  not  under  any  disguise.  Openly  have  I  defended  Scot- 
land, and  openly  will  I  pass  through  her  lands.  The  chalice 
of  heaven  consecrated  me  the  champion  of  my  country,  and  no 
Scot  dare  lift  a  hostile  hand  against  this  anointed  head."  The 
soul  of  Wallace  swelled  high,  but  devoutly,  while  uttering  this. 

"  Whither  you  go,"  cried  Grimsby,  "  let  me  follow  you,  in 
joy  or  in  sorrow."  —  "  And  me,  too,  my  benefactor,"  rejoined 
Walter  ;  "  and  when  you  look  on  us,  think  not  that  Scotland 
is  altogether  ungrateful." 

"  My  faithful  friends,"  returned  he,  "  whither  I  go,  I  must 
go  alone.  And  as  a  proof  of  your  love,  grant  me  your  obe- 
dience this  once.  Eest  amongst  these  thickets  till  morning. 
At  sunrise  repair  to  our  camp,  there  you  will  know  my  desti- 
nation. But  till  Bruce  proclaims  himself  at  the  head  of  his 
country's  armies,  for  my  sake  never  reveal  to  mortal  man 


272  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

that  he  who  lies  debilitated  by  sickness  at  Hunting-tower  is 
other  than  Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville."  —  "  Kest  we  cannofc," 
replied  Grimsby,  "  but  still  we  will  obey  our  master.  You 
command  me  to  adhere  to  Bruce,  to  sorve  him  till  the  hour  of 
his  death.  I  will ;  but  should  he  die,  then  I  may  seek  you, 
and  be  again  your  faithful  servant  ?"  —"You  will  find  me 
before  the  cross  of  Christ,"  returned  Wallace,  "  with  saints 
my  fellow-soldiers,  and  God  my  only  king.  Till  then,  Grimsby, 
farewell !  Walter,  carry  my  fidelity  to  your  mistress.  She 
will  share  my  thoughts  with  the  Blessed  Virgin  of  heaven, 
for  in  all  my  prayers  shall  her  name  be  remembered.'7 

Grimsby  and  Walter,  struck  by  the  holy  solemnity  of  his 
manner,  fell  on  their  knees  before  him.  Wrallace  raised  his 
hands.  "  Bless,  oh,  Father  of  Light ! "  cried  he  ;  "  bless  this 
unhappy  land  when  Wallace  is  no  more,  and  let  his  memory 
be  lost  in  the  virtues  and  prosperity  of  Robert  Bruce !  " 

Grimsby  sank  on  the  earth  and  gave  way  to  a  burst  of 
manly  sorrow.  WTalter  hid  his  weeping  face  in  the  folds  of 
his  master's  mantle,  which  had  fallen  from  his  shoulders  to 
the  ground.  Lost  in  grief,  no  thought  seemed  to  exist  in  the 
young  man's  heart  but  the  reason  to  live  only  for  his  perse- 
cuted benefactor,  and  to  express  this  vow  with  all  the  energy 
of  determined  devotedness.  He  looked  up  to  seek  the  face  of 
Wallace;  but  AVallace  had  disappeared,  and  all  that  re- 
mained to  the  breaking  hearts  of  his  faithful  servants  was  the 
tartan  plaid  which  they  had  clasped  in  their  arms.1 


CHAPTER   LXXIX. 

LUMLOCH. 

WALLACE,  having  turned  abruptly  away  from  his  lamenting 
servants,  struck  into  the  deep  defiles  of  the  Pentland  Hills. 
They  pointed  to  different  tracks.  Aware  that  the  deter- 
mined affection  of  some  of  his  friends  might  urge  them  to 
dare  the  perils  attendant  on  his  fellowship,  he  hesitated  a 
moment  which  path  to  take.  Certainly  not  towards  Hunting- 
tower,  to  bring  immediate  destruction  on  its  royal  inhabitant ; 
nor  to  any  chieftain  of  the  Highlands,  to  give  rise  to  a  spirit 

1  The  parallel  scene  to  this  In  the  interesting  Lay  of  Blind  Harrie  is  one  of  the  finest 
in  the  poem.  Here  he  may  indeed  be  called  the  Homer  of  Scotland;  but  his  hero 
was  nobler  than  either  Greek  or  Trojan  —  a  truly  Christian  hero.  —  (1809.) 


LUMLOCH.  273 

of  civil  warfare.  Neither  would  he  pursue  the  eastern  track, 
for  in  that  direction,  as  pointing  to  France,  his  friends  would 
most  likely  seek  him.  He  therefore  turned  his  steps  towards 
the  ports  of  Ayr.  The  road  was  circuitous,  but  it  would  soon 
enough  take  him  from  the  land  of  his  fathers,  from  the 
country  he  must  never  see  again. 

As  morning  dispelled  the  shades  of  night,  it  discovered  still 
more  dreary  glooms.  A  heavy  mist  hung  over  the  hills  and 
rolled  before  him  along  the  valley.  Still  he  pursued  his  way, 
although,  as  day  advanced,  the  vapors  collected  into  thicker 
blackness,  and,  floating  down  the  heights,  at  last  burst  in  a 
deluge  of  rain.  All  around  was  darkened  by  the  descending 
water,  and  the  accumulating  floods,  dashing  from  the  project- 
ing craigs  above,  swelled  the  burn  in  his  path  to  a  roaring 
river.  Wallace  stood  in  the  torrent  with  its  wild  waves  break- 
ing against  his  sides.  The  rain  fell  on  his  uncovered  head, 
and  the  chilling  blast  sighed  in  his  streaming  hair.  Looking 
around  him  he  paused  a  moment  amid  this  tumult  of  nature. 
"  Must  there  be  strife  even  amongst  the  elements  to  show 
that  this  is  no  longer  a  land  for  me  ?  Spirits  of  these  hills," 
cried  he,  "  pour  not  thus  your  rage  on  a  banished  man,  — 
a  man  without  a  friend,  without  a  home ! "  He  started  and 
smiled  at  his  own  adjuration.  "  The  spirits  of  my  ancestors 
ride  not  in  these  blasts ;  the  delegated  powers  of  heaven 
launch  not  this  tempest  on  a  defenceless  head ;  ?t  is  chance ! 
but  affliction  shapes  all  things  to  its  own  likeness.  Thou,  oh, 
my  Father  !  would  not  suffer  any  demon  of  the  air  to  bend 
thy  broken  reed.  Therefore  rain  on,  ye  torrents,  ye  are  wel- 
come to  William  Wallace.  He  can  well  breast  the  mountain's 
storm  who  has  stemmed  the  ingratitude  of  his  country." 

Hills,  rivers,  and  vales  were  measured  by  his  solitary  steps, 
till  entering  on  the  heights  of  Clydesdale,  the  broad  river  of 
his  native  glen  spread  its  endeared  waters  before  him.  Not 
a  wave  passed  along  that  had  not  kissed  the  feet  of  some 
scene  consecrated  to  his  memory.  Over  the  western  hills 
lay  the  lands  of  his  forefathers.  There  he  had  first  drawn 
his  breath;  there  he  imbibed  from  the  lips  of  his  revered 
grandfather,  now  no  more,  those  lessons  of  virtue  by  which 
he  had  lived,  and  for  which  he  was  now  ready  to  die.  Far 
to  the  left  stretched  the  wide  domains  of  Lammington ;  there 
his  youthful  heart  first  knew  the  pulse  of  love;  there  all 
hope  smiled  upon  him,  for  Marion,  was  near,  and  hope  hailed 
him  from  every  sunlit  mountain's  brow.  Onward,  in  the 
depths  of  the  cliffs,  lay  Ellerslie,  the  home  of  his  heart,  where 

Vol.  II.  —18 


274  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

he  had  tasted  the  joys  of  paradise ;  but  all  there,  like  that 
once  blessed  place,  now  lay  in  one  wide  ruin. 

"  Shall  I  visit  thee  again  ?  "  said  he,  as  he  hurried  along 
the  beetling  craigs.  "  Ellerslie  !  Ellerslie  !  "  cried  he,  "'t  is  no 
hero,  no  triumphant  warrior,  that  approaches.  Receive,  shelter 
thy  deserted,  widowed  master !  I  come,  my  Marion,  to  mourn 
thee  in  thine  own  domains."  He  flew  forward  ;  he  ascended 
the  cliffs ;  he  rushed  down  the  hazel-crowned  pathway  ;  but  it 
was  no  longer  smooth  —  thistles  and  thickly  interwoven  under 
wood  obstructed  his  steps.  Breaking  through  them  all,  he 
turned  the  angle  of  the  rock,  the  last  screen  between  him  and 
the  view  of  his  once  beloved  home.  On  this  spot  he  used  to 
stand  on  moonlight  evenings  watching  the  graceful  form  of 
his  Marion  as  she  passed  to  and  fro  within  her  chamber. 
His  eye  now  turned  instinctively  to  the  point,  but  it  gazed  on 
vacancy.  His  home  had  disappeared ;  one  solitary  tower  alone 
remained,  standing  like  "  a  hermit,  the  last  of  his  race,"  to 
mourn  over  the  desolation  of  all  by  which  it  had  once  been 
surrounded.1  Not  a  human  being  now  moved  on  the  spot 
which  three  years  before  was  thronged  with  his  grateful 
vassals.  Not  a  voice  was  now  heard  where  then  sounded  the 
harp  of  Halbert,  where  breathed  the  soul-entrancing  song  of 
his  beloved  Marion.  "  Death !  "  cried  he,  striking  his  breast, 
"  how  many  ways  hast  thou  to  bereave  mortality !  All,  all 
gone !  My  Marion  sleeps  in  Bothwell,  the  faithful  Halbert 
at  her  feet.  And  my  peasantry  of  Lanark,  how  many  of  you 
have  found  untimely  graves  in  the  bosom  of  your  vainly 
rescued  country ! " 

A  few  steps  forward  and  he  stood  on  a  mound  of  moulder- 
.ing  fragments  heaped  over  the  pavement  of  what  had  been  the 
hall.  "  My  wife's  blood  marks  the  stones  beneath,"  cried  he. 
He  flung  himself  on  the  ruins,  and  a  groan  burst  from  his 
heart.  It  echoed  mournfully  from  the  opposite  rock.  He 
started  and  gazed  around.  "  Solitude  ! "  cried  he  with  a  faint 
smile;  "naught  is  here  but  Wallace  and  his  sorrow.  Marion  ! 
I  call,  and  even  thou  dost  not  answer  me,  thou  who  didst  ever 
fly  at  the  sound  of  my  voice.  Look  on  me,  love,"  exclaimed 
he,  stretching  his  arms  towards  the  sky ;  "  look  on  me,  and 
for  once  till  ever  cheer  thy  lonely,  heart-stricken  Wallace !  " 
Tears  choked  his  further  utterance,  and  once  more  laying  his 
head  upon  the  stones  he  wept  in  silence,  till  exhausted  nature 
found  repose  in  sleep. 

1  On  the  banks  of  the  Clyde,  near  Lanark,  such  a  tower  is  still  seen,  and  bears  the 
name  of  Wallace.  —  (1809.) 


LUMLOCH.  275 

The  sun  was  gilding  the  gray  summits  of  the  ruined  tower 
under  whose  shadow  he  lay  when  Wallace  slowly  opened  his 
eyes.  Looking  around  him  he  smote  his  breast,  and  with  a 
heavy  groan  sunk  back  upon  the  stones.  In  the  silence  which 
succeeded  this  burst  of  memory  he  thought  he  heard  a  rus- 
tling near  him  and  a  half-suppressed  sigh.  He  listened  breath- 
less. The  sigh  was  repeated.  He  gently  raised  himself  on 
his  hand,  and  with  an  expectation  he  dared  hardly  whisper  to 
himself  turned  towards  the  spot  whence  the  sound  proceeded. 
The  branches  of  a  rose-tree  that  had  been  planted  by  his 
Marion  shook  and  scattered  the  leaves  of  its  ungathered  flow- 
ers upon  the  brambles  which  grew  beneath.  Wallace  rose  in 
agitation.  The  skirts  of  a  human  figure  appeared  retreating 
behind  the  ruins.  He  advanced  towards  it  and  beheld  Edwin 
Kuthven.  The  moment  their  eyes  met  Edwin  precipitated 
himself  at  his  feet,  and,  clinging  to  him,  exclaimed,  "Pardon  me 
this  pursuit.  But  we  meet  to  part  no  more."  Wallace 
raised  him  and  strained  him  to  his  breast  in  silence.  Edwin, 
in  hardly  articulate  accents,  continued :  "  Some  kind  power 
checked  your  hand  when  writing  to  your  Edwin.  You  could 
not  command  him.  not  to  follow  you ;  you  left  the  letter  unfin- 
ished ;  and  thus  I  come  to  bless  you  for  not  condemning  me  to 
die  of  a  broken  heart."  —  "I  did  not  write  farewell  to  thee," 
cried  Wallace,  looking  mournfully  on  him  ;  "  but  I  meant  it, 
for  I  must  part  from  all  I  love  in  Scotland.  It  is  my  doom. 
This  country  needs  me  not,  and  I  have  need  of  heaven.  I  go 
into  its  outcourts  at  Chartres.  Follow  me  there,  dear  boy, 
when  thou  hast  accomplished  thy  noble  career  on  earth ;  and 
then  our  gray  hairs  shall  mingle  together  over  the  altar  of  the 
God  of  Peace  ;  but  now  receive  the  farewell  of  thy  friend. 
Return  to  Bruce,  and  be  to  him  the  dearest  representative  of 
William  Wallace."  —  "  Never !  "  cried  Edwin ;  "  thou  alone  art 
my  prince,  my  friend,  my  brother,  my  all  in  this  world  ! 
My  parents,  dear  as  they  are,  would  have  buried  my  youth  in 
a  cloister  ;  but  your  name  called  me  to  honor ;  and  to  you,  in 
life  or  in  death,  I  dedicate  my  being."  —  "  Then,"  returned 
Wallace,  "  that  honor  summons  you  to  the  side  of  the  dying 
Bruce.  He  is  now  in  the  midst  of  his  foes."  —  "And  where 
art  thou  ?  "  interrupted  Edwin ;  "  who  drove  thee  hence,  but 
enemies  ?  who  line  these  roads,  but  wretches  sent  to  betray 
their  benefactor  ?  No,  my  friend,  thy  fate  shall  be  my  fate, 
thy  woe  my  woe.  We  live  or  we  die  together ;  the  field,  the 
cloister,  or  the  tomb,  all  shall  be  welcomed  by  Edwin  Euthven, 
if  they  separate  him  not  from  thee/7  Seeing  that  Wallace 


27(5  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

was  going  to  speak,  and  fearful  that  it  was  to  repeat  his  com- 
mands to  be  left  alone,  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  with  vehemence, 
"  Father  of  men  and  angels  !  grant  me  thy  favor,  only  as  I  am 
true  to  the  vow  I  have  sworn,  never  more  to  leave  the  side  of 
Sir  William  Wallace." 

To  urge  the  dangers  to  which  such  a  resolution  would  ex- 
pose  this  too  faithful  friend,  Wallace  knew  would  be  in  vain  ; 
he  read  an  invincible  determination  in  the  eye  and  gesture  of 
Edwin,  and  therefore,  yielding  to  the  demands  of  friendship 
he  threw  himself  on  his  neck.  "  For  thy  sake,  Edwin,  I  will 
/et  endure  awhile  mankind  at  large.  Thy  bloom  of  honor 
shall  not  be  cropped  by  my  hand.  We  will  go  together  to 
France,  and  while  I  seek  a  probationary  quiet  in  some  of  its 
remote  cities,  thou  mayest  bear  the  standard  of  Scotland  in 
the  land  of  our  ally  against  the  proud  enemies  of  Bruce."  — 
"Make  of  me  what  you  will,"  returned  Edwin,  "only  do  not 
divide  me  from  yourself." 

Wallace  explained  to  his  friend  his  design  of  crossing  the 
hills  to  Ayrshire,  in  some  port  of  which  he  did  not  doubt  find- 
ing some  vessel  bound  for  France.  Edwin  overturned  this 
plan  by  telling  him  that  in  the  moment  the  abthanes  re- 
pledged  their  secret  faith  to  England,  they  sent  orders  into 
Ayrshire  to  watch  the  movements  of  Wallace's  relations,  and 
to  prevent  their  either  hearing  of,  or  marching  to,  the  assist- 
ance of  their  wronged  kinsman.  And  besides  this,  no  sooner 
was  it  discovered  by  the  insurgent  lords  at  Eoslyn  that  he  had 
disappeared  from  the  camp,  than  supposing  he  meant  to 
appeal  to  Philip,  they  despatched  expresses  all  along  the 
western  and  eastern  coasts,  from  the  friths  of  Forth  and  Clyde 
to  those  of  Solway  and  Berwick-upon-Tweed,  to  intercept  him. 
On  hearing  this,  and  that  all  avenues  from  the  southern  parts 
of  his  country  were  closed  upon  him,  Wallace  determined  to 
try  the  north.  Some  bay  in  the  western  Highlands  might 
open  its  yet  not  ungrateful  arms  to  set  its  benefactor  free. 
"  If  not  by  a  ship,"  continued  Edwin,  "  a  fisher's  boat  will 
launch  us  from  a  country  no  longer  worthy  of  you." 

Their  course  was  then  taken  along  the  Cartlane  craigs,  at  a 
distance  from  villages  and  mountain  cots,  which,  leaning  from 
their  verdant  heights,  seemed  to  invite  the  traveller  to  refresh- 
ment and  repose.  Though  the  sword  of  Wallace  had  won 
them  this  quiet,  though  his  wisdom,  like  the  hand  of  creation, 
had  spread  the  lately  barren  hills  with  beauteous  harvests,  yet 
had  an  ear  of  corn  been  asked  in  his  name,  it  would  have  been 
denied.  A  price  was  set  upon  his  head,  and  the  lives  of  all 


LUMLOCH.  277 

who  should  succor  him  would  be  forfeited.  He  who  had  given 
bread  and  homes  to  thousands  was  left  to  perish,  had  not 
where  to  shelter  his  head.  Edwin  looked  anxiously  on  him, 
as  at  times  they  sped  silently  along.  "  Ah,"  thought  he, 
''this  heroic  endurance  of  evil  is  the  true  cross  of  our  celestial 
Captain.  Let  who  will  carry  its  painted  insignia  to  the  Holy 
Land,  here  is  the  man  that  bears  the  real  substance,  that 
walks  undismayed  in  the  path  of  his  sacrificed  Lord." 

The  black  plumage  of  a  common  Highland  bonnet,  which 
Sdwin  had  purchased  at  one  of  the  cottages  to  which  he  had 
gone  alone  to  buy  a  few  oaten  cakes,  hung  over  the  face  of  his 
friend.  That  face  no  longer  blazed  with  the  fire  of  generous 
valor,  it  was  pale  and  sad ;  but  whenever  he  turned  his  eye  on 
Edwin,  the  shades  which  seemed  to  envelop  it  disappeared,  a 
bright  smile  spoke  the  peaceful  consciousness  within,  a  look 
of  grateful  affection  expressed  his  comfort  at  having  found,  in 
defiance  of  every  danger,  he  was  not  yet  wholly  forsaken. 
Edwin's  youthful,  happy  spirit,  rejoiced  in  every  glad  beam 
which  shone  on  the  face  of  him  he  loved.  It  awoke  felicity  in 
his  breast.  To  be  occasionally  near  Wallace,  to  share  his 
confidence  with  others,  had  always  filled  him  with  joy;  but 
now  to  be  the  only  one  on  whom  his  noble  heart  leaned  for 
consolation,  was  bliss  unutterable.  He  trod  in  air,  and  even 
chid  his  beating  heart  for  a  delight  which  seemed  to  exult 
when  his  friend  suffered.  "  But  not  so,"  ejaculated  he,  in- 
ternally j  "  to  be  with  thee  is  the  delight.  In  life  or  in  death, 
thy  presence  is  the  sunshine  of  my  soul." 

When,  they  arrived  within  sight  of  the  high  towers  of 
Bothwell  Castle,  Wallace  stopped.  "  We  must  not  go  thither," 
said  Edwin,  replying  to  the  sentiment  which  spoke  from  the 
eyes  of  his  friend ;  "  the  servants  of  my  cousin  Andrew  may 
not  be  as  faithful  as  their  lord."  —  "I  will  not  try  them," 
returned  Wallace,  with  a  resigned  smile ;  "  my  presence  in 
Bothwell  chapel  shall  not  pluck  danger  on  the  head  of  my 
dauntless  Murray.  She  wakes  in  heaven  for  me  whose  body 
sleeps  there ;  and  knowing  where  to  find  the  jewel,  my  friend, 
shall  I  linger  over  the  vacated  casket  ?" 

While  he  yet  spoke,  a  chieftain  on  horseback  suddenly 
emerged  from  the  trees  which  led  to  the  castle,  and  drew  to 
their  side.  Edwin  was  wrapped  in  his  plaid,  and  cautiously 
concealing  his  face  that  no  chance  of  his  recognition  might 
betray  his  companion,  he  walked  briskly  on,  without  once 
looking  at  the  stranger.  But  Wallace,  being  without  any 
shade  over  the  noble  contour  of  a  form  which  for  majesty  and 


278  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

grace  was  unequalled  in  Scotland,  could  not  be  mistaken.  He, 
too,  moved  swiftly  forward.  The  horseman  spurred  after  him. 
Perceiving  himself  pursued,  and  therefore  known,  and  aware 
that  he  must  be  overtaken,  he  suddenly  stopped.  Edwin  drew 
his  sword,  and  would  have  given  it  into  the  hand  of  his 
friend,  but  Wallace,  putting  it  back,  rapidly  answered, 
"  Leave  my  defence  to  this  unweaponed  arm.  I  would  not  use 
steel  against  my  countrymen,  but  none  shall  take  me  while  I 
have  a  sinew  to  resist." 

The  chieftain  now  checked  his  horse  in  front  of  Wallace, 
and  respectfully  raising  his  visor,  discovered  Sir  John  Mon- 
teith.  At  sight  of  him,  Edwin  dropped  the  point  of  his  yet 
uplifted  sword,  and  Wallace,  stepping  back,  "  Monteith," 
said  he,  "I  am  sorry  for  this  rencontre.  If  you  would  be 
safe  from  the  destiny  which  pursues  me,  you  must  retire 
immediately,  and  forget  that  we  have  met."  —  "  Never ! "  cried 
Monteith.  "I  know  the  ingratitude  of  an  envious  country 
drives  the  bravest  of  her  champions  from  our  borders,  but  I 
also  know  what  belongs  to  myself,  —  to  serve  you  at  all 
hazards ;  and  by  conjuring  you  to  become  my  guest,  in  my 
castle  on  the  frith  of  Clyde,  I  would  demonstrate  my  grate- 
ful sense  of  the  dangers  you  once  incurred  for  me,  and  I  there- 
fore thank  fortune  for  this  rencontre." 

In  vain  Wallace  expressed  his  determination  not  to  bring 
peril  on  any  of  his  countrymen  by  sojourning  under  any 
roof  till  he  were  far  from  Scotland.  In  vain  he  urged  to 
Monteith  the  outlawry  which  would  await  him  should  the  in- 
furiate abthanes  discover  that  he  had  given  shelter  to  the  man 
whom  they  had  chosen  to  suppose  a  traitor,  and  denounce  as 
one.  Monteith,  after  equally  unsuccessful  persuasions  on  his 
side,  at  last  said  that  he  knew  a  vessel  was  now  lying  at 
Newark,  near  his  castle,  in  which  Wallace  might  immediately 
embark,  and  he  implored  him  by  past  friendship  to  allow  him 
to  be  his  guide  to  its  anchorage.  To  enforce  this  supplication 
he  threw  himself  off  his  horse,  and  with  protestations  of  a 
fidelity  that  trampled  on  all  dangers,  entreated,  even  with 
sobs,  not  to  be  refused  the  last  comfort  he  should  ever  know 
in  his  now  degraded  country.  "  Once  I  saw  Scotland's  steady 
champion,  the  brave  Douglas,  rifled  from  her  shores.  Do  not, 
then,  doom  me  to  a  second  grief,  bitterer  than  the  first ;  do  not 
you  yourself  drive  me  from  the  side  of  her  last  hero.  Ah ! 
let  me  behold  you,  companion  of  my  school-days,  friend, 
leader,  benefactor !  till  the  sea  wrests  you  forever  from  my 
eyes/'  Exhausted  and  affected,  Wallace  gave  his  hand  to 


LUMLOCH.  279 

Monteith ;  the  tear  of  gratitude  stood  in  his  eye.  He  looked 
affectionately  from  Monteith  to  Edwin,  from  Edwin  to  Mon- 
teith. "  Wallace  shall  yet  live  in  the  memory  of  the  trusty  of 
this  land  ;  you,  my  friends,  prove  it.  I  go  richly  forth,  for  the 
hearts  of  good  men  are  my  companions." 

As  they  journeyed  along  the  devious  windings  of  the  Clyde, 
and  saw  at  a  distance  the  aspiring  turrets  of  Rutherglen, 
Edwin  pointed  to  them  and  said,  "  From  that  church,  a  few 
months  ago,  did  you  dictate  a  conqueror's  terms  to  England." 
—  "  And  now  that  very  England  makes  me  a  fugitive,"  returned 
Wallace.  —  "  Oh,  not  England,"  interrupted  Edwin;  "you  bow 
not  to  her.  It  is  blind,  mad  Scotland  who  thus  thrusts  her 
benefactor  from  her."  —  "Ah,  then,  my  Edwin,"  rejoined  he, 
"read  in  me  the  history  of  thousands.  So  various  is  the  fate 
of  a  people's  idol,  to-day  he  is  worshipped  as  a  god,  to-morrow 
cast  into  the  fire." 

Monteith  turned  pale  at  this  conversation,  and  quickening 
his  steps,  hurried  in  silence  past  the  opening  of  the  valley 
which  presented  the  view  of  Kutherglen. 

Night  overtook  the  travellers  near  the  little  village  of  Lum- 
loch,  about  two  hours'  journey  from  Glasgow.  Here,  a  storm 
coming  on,  Monteith  advised  his  friends  to  take  shelter  and 
rest.  "As  you  object  to  implicate  others,"  said  he,  "you  may 
sleep  secure  in  an  old  barn  which  at  present  has  no  ostensible 
owner.  I  remarked  it  while  passing  this  way  from  Newark. 
But  I  rather  wish  you  would  forget  this  too  chary  regard  for 
others,  and  lodge  with  me  in  the  neighboring  cottage."  Wai 
lace  was  insensible  to  the  pelting  of  the  elements,  his  unsub- 
dued spirit  neither  wanted  rest  for  mind  nor  body :  but  the 
broken  voice  and  lingering  step  of  the  young  Edwin,  who  had 
severely  sprained  his  foot  in  the  dark,  penetrated  his  heart ; 
and  notwithstanding  that  the  resolute  boy,  suddenly  rallying 
himself,  declared  he  was  neither  weary  nor  in  pain,  Wallace, 
seeing  he  was  both,  yielded  a  sad  consent  to  be  conducted  from 
the  storm.  "But  not,"  said  he,  "to  the  house.  We  will  go 
into  the  barn,  and  there,  on  the  dry  earth,  my  Edwin,  we  may 
gratefully  repose." 

Monteith  did  not  oppose  him  further,  and 'pushing  open  the 
door,  Wallace  and  Edwin  entered.  Their  conductor  soon  after 
followed  with  a  light  from  the  cottage,  and  pulling  down  some 
heaped  straw,  strewed  it  on  the  ground  for  a  bed.  "Here  I 
shall  sleep  like  a  prince,"  cried  Edwin,  throwing  himself  along 
the  scattered  truss.  "But  not,"  returned  Monteith,  "till  I 
have  disengaged  you  from  your  wet  garments,  and  preserved 


280  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

your  arms  and  brigandine  from  tlio  rust  of  this  night."  Ed  <vin, 
sunk  in  weariness,  said  little  in  opposition,  and  having  suffered 
Monteith  to  take  away  his  sword  and  to  unbrace  his  plated 
vest,  dropped  at  once  on  the  straw  in  a  profound  sleep. 

Wallace,  that  he  might  not  disturb  him  by  debate,  yielded 
to  the  request  of  Monteith,  and  having  resigned  his  armor 
also,  waved  him  a  good-night.  Monteith  nodded  the  same,  and 
closed  the  door  upon  his  victims. 

Well  known  to  the  generals  of  King  Edward  as  one  who 
estimated  his  honor  as  a  mere  counter  of  traffic,  Sir  John 
Monteith  was  considered  by  them  all  as  a  hireling  fit  for  any 
purpose.  Though  De  Warenne  had  been  persuaded  to  use  un- 
worthy means  to  intimidate  his  great  opponent,  he  would  have 
shrunk  from  being  a  coadjutor  of  treachery.  His  removal 
from  the  lord-wardenship  of  Scotland,  in  consequence  of  the 
wounds  he  had  received  at  Dalkeith,  opened  a  path  to  the  ele- 
vation of  Aymer  de  Valence.  And  when  he  was  named  viceroy 
in  the  stead  of  De  Warenne,  he  told  Edward  that  if  he  would 
authorize  him  to  offer  an  earldom,  with  adequate  estates,  to 
Sir  John  Monteith,  the  old  friend  of  Wallace,  he  was  sure  so 
rapacious  a  chieftain  would  traverse  sea  and  land  to  put  that 
formidable  Scot  into  the  hands  of  England.  To  incline  Ed- 
ward to  the  proffer  of  'so  large  a  bribe,  De  Valence  instanced 
Monteith's  having  volunteered,  while  he  commanded  with  Sir 
Eustace  Maxwell  on  the  borders,  to  betray  the  forces  under 
him  to  the  English  general.  The  treachery  was  accepted,  and 
for  its  execution  he  received  a  casket  of  uncounted  gold. 
Some  other  proofs  of  his  devotion  to  England  were  mentioned 
by  De  Valence.  "  You  mean  his  devotion  to  money  ?  "  replied 
the  king ;  "  and  if  that  will  make  him  ours  at  this  crisis  give 
him  overflowing  coffers,  but  no  earldom.  Though  I  must  have 
the  head  of  Wallace,  I  would  not  have  one  of  my  peers  show  a 
title  written  in  his  blood.  Ill  deeds  must  sometimes  be  done, 
but  we  do  not  emblazon  their  perpetrators.7' 1 

De  Valence  having  received  his  credentials  sent  Haliburton 
(a  Scottish  prisoner,  who  bought  his  liberty  too  dear  by  such 
an  embassage)  to  impart  to  Sir  John  Monteith  the  King  of 
England's  proposal.  Monteith  was  then  castellan  of  Newark, 
where  he  had  immured  himself  for  many  months,  under  a  pre- 
tence of  the  reopening  of  old  wounds  ;  but  the  fact  was,  his 
treasons  were  connected  with  so  many  accomplices  that  he 
feared  some  disgraceful  disclosure,  and  therefore  kept  out  of 

1  How  wonderful  that  a  prince  who  could  utter  such  a  sentiment,  could  at  the  sama 
time  sanction  what  he  condemned !  Alas,  how  does  the  heart  deceive  itself !  —  (1809.) 


LUMLOCH.  281 

the  way  of  exciting  public  attention.  Avarice  was  his  master 
passion ;  and  the  sudden  idea  that  there  might  be  treasure  in 
the  iron  box,  which,  unwitting  of  such  a  thought  at  the  time, 
he  had  consigned  to  Wallace,  first  bound  him  a  sordid  slave. 
His  murmurs  for  having  allowed  the  box  to  leave  his  posses- 
sion gave  the  alarm  which  caused  the  disasters  at  Ellerslie 
and  his  own  immediate  arrest.  He  was  then  sent  a  prisoner 
to  Cressingham  at  Stirling,  but  in  his  way  thither  he  made  his 
escape,  though  only  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  Soulis.  That 
inhuman  chief  threatened  to  return  him  to  his  dungeons  ;  and 
to  avoid  such  a  misfortune,  Monteith  engaged  in  the  conspir- 
acy to  bring  Lady  Helen  from  the  priory  to  the  arms  of  this 
monster*.  On  her  escape  Soulis  would  have  wreaked  his  ven- 
geance on  his  vile  emissary,  but  Monteith,  aware  of  his  design, 
fled,  and  fled  even  into  the  danger  he  would  have  avoided.  He 
fell  in  with  a  party  of  roaming  Southrons  who  conveyed  him 
to  Ayr.  Once  having  immolated  his  honor,  he  kept  no  terms 
with  conscience.  Arnulf  soon  understood  what  manner  of  man 
was  in  his  custody,  and  by  sharing  with  him  in  the  pleas- 
ures of  his  table,  soon  drew  from  him  every  information  re- 
specting the  strength  and  resources  of  his  country.  His 
after-history  was  a  series  of  secret  treacheries  to  Scotland, 
and  in  return  for  them  an  accumulation  of  wealth  from  Eng- 
land, the  contemplation  of  which  seemed  to  be  his  sole  en- 
joyment. This  new  offer  from  De  Valence  was  therefore 
greedily  embraced.  He  happened  to  be  at  Rutherglen  when 
Haliburton  brought  the  proposal,  and  in  the  cloisters  of  its 
church 1  was  its  fell  agreement  signed.  He  transmitted  an 
oath  to  De  Valence  that  he  would  die  or  win  his  hire ;  and 
immediately  despatching  spies  to  the  camp  at  E-oslyn,  as  soon 
as  he  was  informed  of  Wallace's  disappearance,  he  judged, 
from  his  knowledge  of  that  chief's  retentive  affections,  that 
whithersoever  he  intended  finally  to  go  he  would  first  visit 
Ellerslie  and  the  tomb  of  his  wife.  According  to  this  opinion 
he  planted  his  emissaries  in  favorable  situations  on  the  road, 
and  then  proceeded  himself  to  intercept  his  victim  at  the  most 
probable  places. 

Not  finding  him  at  Bothwell,  he  was  issuing  forth  to  take 
the  way  to  Ellerslie  when  the  object  of  his  search  presented 
himself  at  the  opening  of  the  wood.  The  evil  plan  too  well 
succeeded. 

Triumphant  in  his  deceit,  this  master  of  hypocrisy  left  the 

*  The  events  of  Wallace  having  dictated  terms  of  peace  with  England,  and  Monteith 
pledging  himself  to  that  country's  emissary  to  betray  Wallace,  having  taken  place  in 
this  church,  are  traditionary  facts.  —  (1809.) 


282  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

barn,  in  which  he  had  seen  Wallace  and  his  young  friend  lie 
down  on  that  ground  from  which  he  had  determined  they 
should  never  more  arise.  Aware  that  the  unconquerable  soul 
of  Wallace  would  never  allow  himself  to  be  taken  alive,  he 
had  stipulated  with  De  Valence  that  the  delivery  of  his  head 
should  entitle  him  to  a  full  reward.  From  Rutherglen  to 
Lumloch  no  place  had  presented  itself  in  which  he  thought 
he  could  so  judiciously  plant  an  ambuscade  to  surprise  the 
unsuspecting  Wallace.  And  in  this  village  he  had  stationed 
so  large  a  force  of  ruthless  savages  (brought  for  the  occasion 
by  Haliburton  from  the  Irish  island  of  Eathlin),  that  their 
employer  had  hardly  a  doubt  of  this  night  being  the  last  of 
his  too-trusting  friend's  existence.  These  Rathliners  neither 
knew  of  Wallace  nor  his  exploits ;  but  the  lower  order  of  Scots, 
however  they  might  fear  to  succor  his  distress,  loved  his  per- 
son, and  felt  so  bound  to  him  by  his  actions  that  Monteith 
durst  not  apply  to  any  one  of  them  to  second  his  villany. 

The  hour  of  midnight  passed,  and  yet  he  could  not  summon 
courage  to  lead  his  men  to  their  nefarious  attack.  Twice 
they  urged  him  before  he  arose  from  his  affected  sleep,  for 
sleep  he  could  not :  guilt  had  "  murdered  sleep,"  and  he  lay 
awake,  restless,  and  longing  for  the  dawn ;  and  yet  ere  that 
dawn  the  deed  must  be  accomplished.  A  cock  crew  from  a 
neighboring  farm.  "That  is  the  sign  of  morning,  and  we 
have  yet  done  nothing,"  exclaimed  a  surly  ruffian  who 
leaned  on  his  battle-axe  in  an  opposite  corner  of  the  apart- 
ment. "No,  it  is  the  signal  of  our  enemy's  captivity,"  cried 
Monteith.  "Follow  me,  but  gently.  If  ye  speak  a  word,  or 
a  single  target  rattle  before  ye  all  fall  upon  him,  we  are  lost. 
It  is  a  being  of  supernatural  might,  and  not  a  mere  man,  whom 
you  go  to  encounter.  He  that  first  disables  him  shall  have  a 
double  reward." 

"  Depend  upon  us,"  returned  the  sturdiest  ruffian,  and  steal- 
ing cautiously  out  of  the  cottage  the  party  advanced  with 
noiseless  steps  towards  the  barn.  Monteith  paused  at  the 
door,  making  a  sign  to  his  men. to  halt  while  he  listened. 
He  put  his  ear  to  a  crevice ;  not  a  murmur  was  within.  He 
gently  raised  the  latch,  and  setting  the  door  wide  open,  with 
his  finger  on  his  lip,  beckoned  his  followers.  Without  ven- 
turing to  draw  a  breath  they  approached  the  threshold.  The 
meridian  moon  shone  full  into  the  hovel  and  shed  a  broad 
light  upon  their  victims.  The  innocent  face  of  Edwin  rested 
on  the  bosom  of  his  friend,  and  the  arm  of  Wallace  lay  on  the 
spread  straw  with  which  he  had  covered  the  tender  body  of 


LUMLOCH.  283 

his  companion.  So  fair  a  picture  of  mortal  friendship  was 
never  before  beheld.  But  the  hearts  were  blind  which  looked 
on  it,  and  Monteith  gave  the  signal.  He  retreated  out  of  the 
door  while  his  men  threw  themselves  forward  to  bind  Wal- 
lace where  he  lay;  but  the  first  man,  in  his  eagerness,  striking 
his  head  against  a  joist  in  the  roof,  uttered  a  fierce  oath. 
The  noise  roused  Wallace,  whose  wakeful  senses  had  rather 
slumbered  than  slept,  and  opening  his  eyes  he  sprang  on  his 
feet.  A  moment  told  him  enemies  were  around.  Seeing  him 
rise,  they  rushed  on  him  with  imprecations.  His  eyes  blazed 
like  two  terrible  meteors,  and  with  a  sudden  motion  of  his 
arm  he  seemed  to  hold  the  men  at  a  distance,  while  his  god- 
like figure  stood  a  tower  in  collected  might.  Awe-struck,  they 
paused ;  but  it  was  only  for  an  instant.  The  sight  of  Edwin, 
now  starting  from  his  sleep,  his  aghast  countenance  while  he 
felt  for  his  weapons,  his  cry  when  he  recollected  they  were 
gone,  inspired  the  assassins  with  fresh  courage.  Battle-axes, 
swords,  and  rattling  chains  now  flashed  before  the  eyes  of 
Wallace.  The  pointed  steel  in  many  places  entered  his  body, 
while  with  part  of  a  broken  bench  which  chanced  to  lie  near 
him,  he  defended  himself  and  Edwin  from  this  merciless  host. 
Edwin,  seeing  naught  but  the  death  of  his  friend  before  his 
sight,  regardless  of  himself,  made  a  spring  from  his  side  and 
snatched  a  dagger  from  the  belt  of  one  of  the  murderers.  The 
ruffian  instantly  caught  the  intrepid  boy  by  the  throat,  and  in 
that  horrible  clutch  would  certainly  have  deprived  him  of  life, 
had  not  the  lion  grasp  of  Wallace  seized  the  man  in  his  arms, 
and  with  a  pressure  that  made  his  mouth  and  nostrils  burst 
with  blood,  compelled  him  to  forego  his  hold.  Edwin  released, 
Wallace  dropped  his  assailant,  who,  staggering  a  few  paces, 
fell  senseless  to  the  ground,  and  instantly  expired. 

The  conflict  now  became  doubly  desperate.  Edwin's  dagger 
twice  defended  the  breast  of  his  friend.  Two  of  the  assassins 
he  stabbed  to  the  heart.  "  Murder  that  urchin  ! "  cried  Mon- 
teith, who,  seeing  from  without  the  carnage  of  his  men,  feared 
that  Wallace  might  yet  make  his  escape.  "Hah!"  cried 
Wallace,  at  the  sound  of  Monteith's  voice  giving  such  an 
order,  "then  we  are  betrayed,  but  not  by  Heaven!  Strike, 
one  of  you,  that  angel  youth,"  cried  he,  "  and  you  will  incur 
damnation  ! "  He  spoke  to  the  winds.  They  poured  towards 
Edwin.  Wallace,  with  a  giant's  strength,  dispersed  them  as 
they  advanced;  the  beam  of  wood  fell  on  the  heads,  the 
breasts  of  his  assailants.  Himself,  bleeding  at  every  pore, 
felt  not  a  smart  while  yet  he  defended  Edwin.  But  a  shout 


284  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

was  heard  from  the  door ;  a  faint  cry  was  heard  at  his  side. 
He  looked  around.  Edwin  lay  extended  on  the  ground,  with 
an  arrow  quivering  in  his  breast ;  his  closing  eyes  still  looked 
upwards  to  his  friend.  The  beam  fell  from  the  hands  of 
Wallace.  He  threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside  him.  The 
dying  boy  pressed  his  hand  to  his  heart,  and  dropped  his 
head  upon  his  bosom.  Wallace  moved  not,  spoke  not.  His 
hand  was  bathed  in  the  blood  of  his  friend,  but  not  a  pulse 
beat  beneath  it ;  no  breath  warmed  the  paralyzed  chill  of  his 
face,  as  it  hung  over  the  motionless  lips  of  Edwin. 

The  men  were  more  terrified  at  this  unresisting  stillness 
than  at  the  invincible  prowess  of  his  arm,  and  stood  gazing  on 
him  in  mute  wonder.  But  Monteith,  in  whom  the  fell  appetite 
of  avarice  had  destroyed  every  perception  of  humanity,  sent 
in  other  ruffians  with  new  orders  to  bind  Wallace.  They 
approached  him  with  terror;  two  of  the  strongest,  stealing 
behind  him,  and  taking  advantage  of  his  face  being  bent  upon 
that  of  his  murdered  Edwin,  each  in  the  same  moment  seized 
his  hands.  As  they  griped  them  fast,  and  others  advanced 
eagerly  to  fasten  the  bands,  he  looked  calmly  up,  but  it  was 
a  dreadful  calm ;  it  spoke  of  despair,  of  the  full  completion  of 
all  woe.  "  Bring  chains,"  cried  one  of  the  men,  "  he  will  burst 
these  thongs." 

"  You  may  bind  me  with  a  hair,"  said  he  ;  "I  contend  no  more." 
The  bonds  were  fastened  on  his  wrists,  and  then  turning  towards 
the  lifeless  body  of  Edwin,  he  raised  it  gently  in  his  arms. 
The  rosy  red  of  youth  yet  tinged  his  cold  cheek ;  his  parted 
lips  still  beamed  with  the  same,  but  the  breath  that  had  so 
sweetly  informed  them  was  flown.  "  Oh,  my  best  brother  that 
ever  I  had ! "  cried  Wallace,  in  a  sudden  transport,  and  kissing 
his  pale  forehead ;  "  my  sincerest  friend  in  my  greatest  need. 
In  thee  was  truth,  manhood,  and  nobleness ;  in  thee  was  all 
man's  fidelity,  with  woman's  tenderness.  My  friend,  my 
brother,  oh,  would  to  God  I  had  died  for  thee!"1 

1  These  words  of  lamentation  are  recorded  as  having  been  pronounced  by  Wallace. 
Lumloch,  the  spot  where  this  horrible  treason  was  acted,  has  since  been  called  Rob 
Royston,  from  having,  in  after  times,  been  the  residence  of  Rob  Roy,  the  famous  free- 
booter. The  hovel  is  yet  standing,  and  also  a  beam  of  wood  preserved  as  that  with 
which  Wallace  defended  himself  and  his  faithful  friend.  At  least  it  was  so  when  this 
work  was  first  published,  twenty  years  ago.  —  (1820. ) 


HUNTING-  TO  WER.  285 

CHAPTER   LXXX. 

HUNTING-TOWER. 

LORD  KUTHVEN  was  yet  musing  in  fearful  anxiety  on  Wal- 
lace's solemn  adieu,  and  the  confirmation  which  the  recitals 
of  Grimsby  and  Hay  had  brought  of  his  determined  exile, 
when  he  was  struck  with  new  consternation  by  the  flight  of 
his  son.  A  billet  which  Edwin  had  left  with  Scrymgeour, 
who  guessed  not  its  contents,  told  his  father  that  he  was  gone 
to  seek  their  friend,  and  to  unite  himself  forever  to  his  for- 
tunes. 

Bothwell,  not  less  eager  to  preserve  Wallace  to  the  world, 
with  an  intent  to  persuade  him  to  at  least  abandon  his  monas- 
tic project,  set  off  direct  for  France,  hoping  to  arrive  before 
his  friend,  and  engage  the  French  monarch  to  assist  in  pre- 
venting so  grievous  a  sacrifice.  Euthven,  meanwhile,  fearful 
that  the  unarmed  Wallace  and  the  self-regardless  Edwin 
might  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  venal  wretches,  now  widely 
dispersed  to  seize  the  chief  and  his  adherents,  sent  out  the 
Lanark  veterans  in  divers  disguises,  to  pursue  the  roads  it 
was  probable  he  might  take,  and  finding  him,  guard  him  safely 
to  the  coast.  Till  Ruthven.  should  receive  accounts  of  their 
success,  he  forbore  to  forward  the  letter  which  Wallace  had 
left  for  Bruce,  or  to  increase  the  solicitude  of  the  already 
anxious  inhabitants  of  Hunting-tower  with  any  intimation  of 
what  had  happened.  But  on  the  fourth  day  Scrymgeour  and 
his  party  returned  with  the  horrible  narrative  of  Lumloch. 

After  the  murder  of  his  youthful  friend,  Wallace  had  been 
loaded  with  irons  and  conveyed,  so  unresistingly  that  he 
seemed  in  a  stupor,  on  board  a  vessel  to  be  carried  without 
loss  of  time  to  the  Tower  of  London.  Sir  John  Monteith, 
though  he  never  ventured  into  his  sight,  attended  as  the  ac- 
cuser, who,  to  put  a  vizard  on  cruelty,  was  to  swear  away  his 
victim's  life.  The  horror  and  grief  of  Ruthven  at  these  tid- 
ings were  unutterable,  and  Scrymgeour,  to  turn  the  tide  of  the 
bereaved  father's  thoughts  to  the  inspiring  recollection  of  the 
early  glory  of  his  son,  proceeded  to  narrate  that  he  found 
the  beauteous  remains  in  the  hovel,  but  bedecked  with  flow- 
ers by  the  village  girls.  They  were  weeping  over  it,  and 
lamenting  the  pitiless  heart  which  could  slay  such  youth  and 
loveliness.  To  bury  him  in  so  obscure  a  spot,  Scrymgeour 
would  not  allow,  and  he  had  sent  Stephen  Ireland  with  the 


286  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

sacred  corse  to  Dumbarton,  with  orders  to  see  him  entombed  in 
the  chapel  of  that  fortress.  "  It  is  done,"  continued  the  worthy 
knight,  "and  those  towers  he  so  bravely  scaled  will  stand 
forever  the  monument  of  Edwin  Ruthven."  l  "  Scrymgeour," 
said  the  stricken  father,  "  the  shafts  fall  thick  upon  us,  but 
we  must  fulfil  our  duty."  Cautious  of  inflicting  too  heavy  a 
blow  on  the  fortitude  of  his  wife  and  of  Helen,  he  commanded 
Grimsby  and  Hay  to  withhold  from  everybody  at  Hunting- 
tower  the  tidings  of  its  young  lord's  fate ;  but  he  believed  it 
his  duty  not  to  delay  the  letter  of  Wallace  to  Bruce,  and  the 
dreadful  information  to  him  of  Monteith's  treachery.  Ruth- 
ven ended  his  short  epistle,  to  his  wife  by  saying  he  should 
soon  follow  his  messenger,  but  that  at  present  he  could  not 
bring  himself  entirely  to  abandon  the  Lowlands  to  even  a 
temporary  empire  of  the  seditious  chiefs. 

On  Grimsby's  arrival  at  Hunting-tower  he  was  conducted 
immediately  to  Bruce.  Some  cheering  symptoms  having  ap- 
peared that  morning,  he  had  just  exchanged  his  bed  for  a 
couch  when  Grimsby  entered  the  room.  The  countenance  of 
the  honest  Southron  was  the  harbinger  of  his  news.  Lady 
Helen  started  from  her  seat,  and  Bruce,  stretching  out  his  arm, 
eagerly  caught  the  packets  the  soldier  presented.  Isabella  in- 
quired if  all  were  well  with  Sir  William  Wallace.  But  ere  he 
could  make  an  answer,  Lady  Ruthven  ran  breathless  into  the 
room  holding  out  the  opened  letter  brought  by  Hay  to  her. 
Bruce  had  just  read  the  first  line  of  his,  which  announced  the 
captivity  of  Wallace,  and  with  a  groan  that  pierced  through 
the  souls  of  every  one  present,  he  made  an  attempt  to 
spring  from  the  couch  ;  but  in  the  act  he  reeled  and  fell  back 
in  a  fearful  but  mute  mental  agony.  The  apprehensive  heart 
of  Helen  guessed  some  direful  explanation ;  she  looked  with 
speechless  inquiry  upon  her  aunt  and  Grimsby.  Isabella  and 
Ercildown  hastened  to  Bruce,  and  Lady  Ruthven,  being  too 
much  appalled  in  her  own  feelings  to  think  for  a  moment  on 
the  aghast  Helen,  hurriedly  read  to  her  from  Lord  Ruthven's 
letter  the  brief  but  decisive  account  of  Wallace's  dangerous 
situation,  —  his  seizure  and  conveyance  to  the  Tower  of  Eng- 
land. Helen  listened  without  a  word ;  her  heart  seemed 
locked  within  her,  her  brain  was  on  fire,  and  gazing  fixedly  on 
the  floor  while  she  listened,  all  else  that  was  transacted  around 
her  passed  unnoticed. 

1  Since  this  little  tale  of  Edwin's  fate  has  been  recalled  to  memory,  those  towers  have 
often  been  revisited  as  his  noble  monument,  and  many  a  warm-hearted  schoolboy  has 
shed  a  tear  over  his  young  mate  in  years.  —  (1820.) 


HUNTING-TOWER.  267 

The  pangs  of  a  convulsion  fit  did  not  long  shackle  the  de- 
termined Bruce.  The  energy  of  his  spirit  struggling  to  gain 
the  side  of  Wallace  in  this  his  extremest  need  (for  he  well 
knew  Edward's  implacable  soul),  roused  him  from  his  worse 
than  swoon.  With  his  extended  arms  dashing  away  the 
restoratives  with  which  both  Isabella  and  Ercildown  hung  over 
him,  he  would  have  leaped  on  the  floor  had  not  the  latter  held 
him  down.  "  Withhold  me  not !  "  cried  he ;  "  this  is  not  tho 
time  for  sickness  and  indulgence.  My  friend  is  in  the  fangs 
of  the  tyrant,  and  shall  I  lie  here  ?  No,  not  for  all  the  empires 
in  the  globe  will  I  be  detained  another  hour.'7 

Isabella,  affrighted  at  the  furies  which  raged  in  his  eyes,  but 
yet  more  terrified  at  the  perils  attendant  on  his  desperate 
resolution,  threw  herself  at  his  feet  and  implored  him  to  stay 
for  her  sake.  "  No,"  cried  Bruce,  "  not  for  thy  life,  Isabella, 
which  is  dearer  to  me  than  my  own,  not  to  save  this  ungrate- 
ful country  from  the  doom  it  merits,  would  I  linger  one  moment 
from  the  side  of  him  who  has  fought,  bled,  and  suffered  for  me 
and  mine,  who  is  now  treated  with  ignominy,  and  sentenced  to 
die  for  my  delinquency.  Had  I  consented  to  proclaim  myself 
on  my  landing,  secure  with  Bruce  the  king  envy  would  have 
feared  to  strike  ;  but  I  must  first  win  a  fame  like  his.  And* 
while  I  lay  here,  they  tore  him  from  the  vain  and  impotent 
Bruce.  But,  Almighty  pardoner  of  my  sins  !  "  cried  he  with 
vehemence,  "  grant  me  strength  to  wrest  him  from  their 
gripe,  and  I  will  go  barefoot  to  Palestine  to  utter  all  my 
gratitude ! " 

Isabella  sunk  weeping  into  the  arms  of  her  aunt.  And  the 
venerable  Ercildown,  wishing  to  curb  an  impetuosity  which 
could  only  involve  its  generous  agent  in  a  ruin  deeper  than 
that  it  sought  to  revenge,  with  more  zeal  than  judgment  urged 
to  the  prince  the  danger  into  which  such  boundless  resentment 
would  precipitate  his  own  person.  At  this  intimation  the  im- 
passioned Bruce,  stung  to  the  soul  that  such  an  argument  could 
be  expected  to  have  weight  with  him,  solemnly  bent  his  knee3 
and  clasping  his  sword,  vowed  before  Heaven  "  either  to  re- 
lease Wallace  or  "  —  to  share  his  fate  he  would  have  added ; 
but  Isabella,  watchful  of  his  words,  suddenly  interrupted  him 
by  throwing  herself  wildly  on  his  neck  and  exclaiming,  "  Oh, 
say  not  so  !  Rather  swear  to  pluck  the  tyrant  from  his  throne, 
that  the  sceptre  of  my  Bruce  may  bless  England,  as  it  will  yet 
do  this  unhappy  land!" —  "  She  says  right,"  ejaculated  Ercil- 
down, in  a  prophetic  transport,  "  and  the  sceptre  of  Bruce  in 
the  hands  of  his  offspring  shall  bless  the  united  countries  to 


288  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  latest  generations.  The  walls  of  separation  shall  then  be 
thrown  down,  and  England  and  Scotland  be  one  people."  l 

Bruce  looked  steadfastly  on  the  sage.  "Then  if  thy  voice 
utter  holy  verity,  it  will  not  again  deny  my  call  to  wield  the 
power  that  Heaven  bestows.  I  follow  my  fate.  To-morrow's 
dawn  sees  me  in  the  path  to  snatch  my  best  treasure,  my  coun- 
sellor, my  guide,  from  the  judgment  of  his  enemies,  or  woe  to 
England;  woe  to  all  Scotland  born  who  have  breathed  one 
hostile  word  against  his  sacred  life !  Helen,  dost  thou  hear 
me  ?  "  cried  he.  "  Wilt  thou  not  assist  me  to  persuade  thy  too 
timid  sister  that  her  Bruce's  honor,  his  happiness,  lives  in  the 
preservation  of  his  friend  ?  Speak  to  her,  counsel  her,  sweet 
Helen ;  and,  please  the  Almighty  arm  of  Heaven,  I  will  re- 
ward thy  tenderness  with  the  return  of  Wallace!" 

Helen  gazed  intently  on  him  while  he  spoke.  She  smiled 
when  he  ended,  but  she  did  not  answer,  and  there  was  a  wild 
vacancy  in  the  smile  that  seemed  to  say  she  knew  not  what  had 
been  spoken,  and  that  her  thoughts  were  far  away.  Without 
further  regarding  him  or  any  present,  she  arose  and  left  the 
room.  At  this  moment  of  fearful  abstraction  her  whole  soul 
was  bent  with  an  intensity  that  touched  on  madness  on  the 
execution  of  a  project  which  had  rushed  into  her  mind  in  the 
moment  she  heard  of  Wallace's  deathful  captivity  and  desti- 
nation. 

The  approach  of  night  favored  her  design.  Hurrying  to  her 
chamber,  she  dismissed  her  maids  with  the  prompt  excuse  that 
she  was  ill  and  desired  not  to  be  disturbed  till  morning ;  then 
bolting  the  door,  she  quickly  habited  herself  in  the  page's 
clothes  which  she  had  so  carefully  preserved  as  the  dear 
memorial  of  her  happy  days  in  France,  and  dropping  from 
her  window  into  the  pleasance  beneath,  ran  swiftly  through 
Its  woody  precincts  towards  Dundee. 

Before  she  arrived  at  the  suburbs  of  Perth  her  tender  feet 
became  so  blistered  she  found  the  necessity  of  stopping  at  the 
first  cottage.  But  her  perturbed  spirits  rendered  it  impossible 
for  her  to  take  rest,  and  she  answere.d  the  hospitable  offer  of 
its  humble  owner  with  a  request  that  he  would  go  into  the 
town  and  immediately  purchase  a  horse  to  carry  her  that  night 
to  Dundee.  She  put  her  purse  into  the  man's  hand,  who, 

1  Spottiswood  insists  very  much  on  this  prediction  of  Ercildown's,  which  was  verified 
it;  James  the  First  of  England,  in  the  ninth  degree  from  Bruce. 

By  a  most  extraordinary  coincidence  the  author  of  this  work  was  revising  it,  and  in 
this  very  page,  and  at  this  very  passage,  just  as  the  guns  were  firing  which  proclaimed 
the  coronation  of  King  William  IV.,  on  the  8th  of  September,  1831.  Though  several 
miles  distant  from  the  royal  scene,  she  heard  them,  and  fervently  united  her  response  — 
"  Long  live  the  anointed  descendant  of  the  Bruce  and  Plantagenetl  "  — (1831.) 


HUNTING-TOWER.  289 

without  further  discus ssion,  obeyed.  When  the  animal  was 
brought,  and  the  honest  Scot  returned  her  the  pufse  with  its 
remaining  contents,  she  divided  them  with  him,  and,  turning 
from  his  thanks,  mounted  the  horse  and  rode  away. 

About  an  hour  before  dawn  see  arrived  within  view  of  the 
ships  lying  in  the  harbor  at  Dundee.  At  this  sight  she  threw 
herself  off  the  panting  animal,  and  leaving  it  to  rest  and 
liberty,  hastened  to  the  beach.  A  gentle  breeze  blew  freshly 
from  the  north-west,  and  several  vessels  were  heaving  their 
anchors  to  get  under  weigh.  "Are  any,"  demanded  she, 
"  bound  for  the  Tower  of  London  ?  "  —  "  None,"  were  the  re- 
plies. Despair  was  now  in  her  heart  and  gesture ;  but  sud- 
denly recollecting  that  in  dressing  herself  for  flight  she  had 
not  taken  off  the  jewels  she  usually  wore,  she  exclaimed  with 
renovated  hope,  "  Will  not  gold  tempt  some  one  to  carry  me 
thither  ?  "  A  rough  Norwegian  sailor  jumped  from  the  side 
of  the  nearest  vessel  and  readily  answered  in  the  affirmative. 
"  My  life,"  rejoined  she,  "or  a  necklace  of  pearls  shall  be 
yours  in  the  moment  you  land  me  at  the  Tower  of  London." 
The  man,  seeing  the  youth  and  agitation  of  the  seeming  boy, 
doubted  his  power  to  perform  so  magnificent  a  promise,  and 
was  half  inclined  to  retract  his  assent ;  but  Helen,  pointing  to 
a  jewel  on  her  finger  as  a  proof  that  she  did  not  speak  of 
things  beyond  her  reach,  he  no  longer  hesitated,  and  pledging 
his  word  that,  wind  and  tide  in  his  favor,  he  would  land  her  at 
the  Tower  stairs,  she,  as  if  all  happiness  must  meet  her  at  that 
point,  sprang  into  his  vessel.  The  sails  were  unfurled,  the 
voices  of  the  men  chanted  forth  their  cheering  responses  on 
clearing  the  harbor,  and  Helen,  throwing  herself  along  the 
floor  of  her  little  cabin,  in  that  prostration  of  body  and  soul 
silently  breathed  her  thanks  to  God  for  being  indeed  launched 
on  the  ocean  whose  waves,  she  trusted,  would  soon  convey  her 
to  Wallace,  to  soothe,  to  serve,  to  die,  or  to  compass  the  re- 
lease of  him  who  had  sacrificed  more  than  his  life  for  her 
father's  preservation  —  for  him  who  had  saved  herself  from 
worse  than  death. 


290  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

CHAPTER   LXXXI. 

THE    THAMES. 

ON  the  evening  of  the  fourteenth  day  from  the  one  in  which 
Helen  had  embarked,  the  little  ship  of  Dundee  entered  011  the 
bright  bosom  of  the  Nore.  While  she  sat  on  the  deck  watch- 
ing the  progress  of  the  vessel  with  an  eager  spirit  which  would 
gladly  have  taken  wings  to  have  flown  to  the  object  of  her 
voyage,  she  first  saw  the  majestic  waters  of  the  Thames. 
But  it  was  a  tyrannous  flood  to  her,  and  she  marked  not  the 
diverging  shores  crowned  with  palaces  ;  her  eyes  looked  over 
every  stately  dome  to  seek  the  black  summits  of  the  Tower. 
At  a  certain  point  the  captain  of  the  vessel  spoke  through  his 
trumpet  to  summon  a  pilot  from  the  land.  In  a  few  minutes 
he  was  obeyed.  The  Englishman  took  the  helm.  Helen  was 
reclined  on  a  coil  of  ropes  near  him.  He  entered  into  conver- 
sation with  the  Norwegian,  and  she  listened  in  speechless  at- 
tention to  a  recital  which  bound  up  her  every  sense  in  that  of 
hearing.  The  captain  had  made  some  unprincipled  jest  on  the 
present  troubles  of  Scotland,  now  his  adopted  country  from 
his  commercial  interests,  and  he  added,  with  a  laugh,  "  that  he 
thought  any  ruler  the  right  one  who  gave  him  a  free  course  for 
traffic,"  In  answer  to  this  remark,  and  with  an  observation 
not  very  flattering  to  the  Norwegian's  estimation  of  right  and 
wrong,  the  Englishman  mentioned  the  capture  of  the  once  re- 
nowned champion  of  Scotland.  Even  the  enemy  who  recounted 
the  particulars  showed  a  ruth  in  the  recital  which  shamed  the 
man  who  had  benefited  by  the  patriotism  he  affected  to  despise^ 
and  for  which  Sir  William  Wallace  was  now  likely  to  shed  his 
blood. 

"  I  was  present,"  continued  the  pilot,  "  when  the  brave  Scot 
was  put  on  the  raft  which  carried  him  through  the  traitor's 
gate  into  the  Tower.  His  hands  and  feet  were  bound  with 
iron ;  but  his  head,  owing  to  faintness  from  the  wounds  he 
had  received  at  Lumloch,  was  so  bent  down  on  his  breast,  as 
he  reclined  on  the  float,  that  I  could  not  then  see  his  face. 
There  was  a  great  pause ;  for  none  of  us,  when  he  did  appear  in 
sight,  could  shout  over  the  downfall  of  so  merciful  a  conqueror. 
Many  were  spectators  of  this  scene  whose  lives  he  had  spared 
on  the  fields  of  Scotland,  and  my  brother  was  amongst  them. 
However,  that  I  might  have  a  distinct  view  of  the  man  who 


THE    THAMES.  291 

has  so  long  held  our  warlike  monarch  in  dread,  I  went  to 
Westminster  Hall  on  the  day  appointed  for  his  trial.  The 
great  judges  of  the  land,  and  almost  all  the  lords  besides,  were 
there  ;  and  a  very  grand  spectacle  they  made.  But  when  the 
hall  door  was  opened  and  the  dauntless  prisoner  appeared,  then 
it  was  that  I  saw  true  majesty ;  King  Edward  on  his  throne 
never  looked  with  such  a  royal  air.  His  very  chains  seemed 
given  to  be  graced  by  him,  as  he  moved  through  the  parting 
crowd  with  the  step  of  one  who  had  been  used  to  have  all  his 
accusers  at  his  feet.  Though  pale  with  loss  of  blood,  and  his 
countenance  bore  traces  of  the  suffering  occasioned  by  the  state 
of  his  yet  unhealed  wounds,  his  head  was  now  erect,  and  he 
looked  with  undisturbed  dignity  on  all  around.  The  Earl  of 
Gloucester,  whose  life  and  liberty  he  had  granted  at  Berwick, 
sat  on  the  right  of  the  lord  chancellor.  Bishop  Beck,  the  Lords 
de  Valence  and  Soulis,  with  one  Monteith  (who,  it  seems,  was 
the  man  that  betrayed  him  into  our  hands),  charged  him  with 
high  treason  against  the  life  of  King  Edward  and  the  peace  of 
his  majesty's  realms  of  England  and  Scotland.  Grievous  were 
the  accusations  brought  against  him,  and  bitter  the  revilings 
with  which  he  was  denounced  as  a  traitor  too  mischievous  to 
deserve  any  show  of  mercy.  The  Earl  of  Gloucester  at  last 
rose  indignantly,  and,  in  energetic  and  respectful  terms,  called 
on  Sir  William  Wallace,  by  the  reverence  in  whi^h  he  held  the 
tribunal  of  future  ages,  to  answer  for  himself. 

" l  On  this  adjuration,  brave  earl,'  replied  he,  '  I  will  speak.' 
Oh,  men  of  Scotland,  what  a  voice  was  that  !  In  it  was  all 
honesty  and  nobleness ;  and  a  murmur  arose  from  some  who 
feared  its  power,  which  Gloucester  was  obliged  to  check  by 
exclaiming  aloud  with  a  stern  countenance,  '  Silence,  while  Sir 
William  Wallace  answers  !  He  who  disobeys,  sergeant-at-arms, 
take  into  custody.7  A  pause  succeeded,  and  the  chieftain,  with 
the  godlike  majesty  of  truth,  denied  the  possibility  of  being  a 
traitor  where  he  never  had  owed  allegiance.  But  with  a  match- 
less fearlessness  he  avowed  the  facts  alleged  against  him,  which 
told  the  havoc  he  had  made  of  the  English  on  the  Scottish 
plains,  and  the  devastations  he  had  afterwards  wrought  in  the 
lands  of  England.  '  It  was  a  son/  cried  he,  '  defending  the 
orphans  of  his  father  from  the  steel  and  rapine  of  a  treacher- 
ous friend.  It  was  the  sword  of  restitution,  gathering,  on  that 
false  friend's  fields,  the  harvests  he  had  ravaged  from  theirs/ 
He  spoke  more,  and  nobly  — too  nobly  for  them  who  heard  him. 
They  rose  to  a  man  to  silence  what  they  could  not  confute ; 
and  the  sentence  of  death  was  pronounced  on  him,  —  the  cruel 


292  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

death  of  a  traitor  ! »  The  Earl  of  Gloucester  turned  pale  on 
his  seat ;  but  the  countenance  of  Wallace  was  unmoved.  As 
he  was  led  forth,  I  followed,  and  saw  the  young  Le  de  Spencer, 
with  several  other  reprobate  gallants  of  our  court,  ready  to 
receive  him.  With  shameful  mockery  they  threw  laurels  on 
his  head,  and  with  torrents  of  derision  told  him  it  was  meet 
they  should  so  salute  the  champion  of  Scotland ! 2  Wallace 
glanced  on  them  a  look  which  spoke  pity  rather  than  contempt,, 
and,  with  a  serene  countenance,  he  followed  the  warden  towards 
the  Tower.  The  hirelings  of  his  accusers  loaded  him  with 
invectives  as  he  passed  along ;  but  the  populace  who  beheld 
his  noble  mien,  with  those  individuals  who  had  heard  of,  while 
many  felt,  his  generous  virtues,  deplored  and  wept  his  sentence. 
To-morrow  at  sunrise  he  dies." 

Helen's  face  being  overshadowed  by  the  low  brim  of  her 
hat,  the  agony  of  her  mind  could  not  have  been  read  in  her 
countenance  had  the  good  Southron  been  sufficiently  uninter- 
ested in  his  story  to  regard  the  sympathy  of  others,  but  as 
soon  as  he  had  uttered  the  last  dreadful  words,  "  To-morrow 
at  sunrise  he  dies,"  she  started  from  her  seat,  her  horror- 
struck  senses  apprehended  nothing  further,  arid,  turning  to 
the  Norwegian,  "  Captain,"  cried  she,  "  I  must  reach  the 
Tower  this  night." — " Impossible,"  was  the  reply  ;  "the  tide 
will  not  take  us  up  till  to-morrow  at  noon."  —  "  Then  the 
waves  shall,"  cried  she,  and  frantically  rushing  towards  the 
ship's  side,  she  would  have  thrown  herself  into  the  water  had 
not  the  pilot  caught  her  arm.  —  "  Boy  !  "  said  he,  "  are  you 
mad?  your  action,  your  looks"  —  "No,"  interrupted  she, 
wringing  her  hands  ;  "but  in  the  Tower  I  must  be  this  night, 
or  —  Oh,  God  of  mercy,  end  my  misery  !  "  The  unutterable 
anguish  of  her  voice,  countenance,  aiad  gesture  excited  a  sus- 
picion in  the  Englishman  that  this  youth  was  connected  with 
the  Scottish  chief,  and  not  choosing  to  hint  his  surmise  to 
the  unfeeling  Norwegian,  in  a  different  tone  he  exhorted 
Helen  to  composure,  and  offered  her  his  own  boat,  which  was 
then  towed  at  the  side  of  the  vessel,  to  take  her  to  the  Tower. 
Helen  grasped  the  pilot's  rough  hand,  and  in  a  paroxysm  of 

1  The  words  of  such  a  sentence  are  too  horrible  to  be  registered  here.  I  read  them 
(when  it  was  in  the  possession  of  the  late  Sir  Frederick  Eden)  in  the  original  death- 
warrant  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  signed  by  Queen  Elizabeth;  and  their  sanguinary  im- 
port would  be  too  dreadful  for  humanity  to  credit  their  execution,  did  we  not  know  that 
it  has  been  done.  May  every  human  heart  pray  to  Heaven,  and  urge  on  man,  that  so 
demoniac  an  act  shall  be  erased  from  every  judicial  code  that  bears  the  name  of  Christian ! 
—  (1815.) 

*  In  the  tradition  of  this  circumstance  it  is  said  that,  in  scorn,  they  crowned  him  with 
a  wreath  of  Idurel;  but,  for  obvious  reasons,  I  have  a  little  changed  the  narrative.— 
(1809.) 


THE    THAMES.  293 

gratitude  pressed  it  to  her  lips ;  then,  forgetful  of  her  engage- 
ments with  the  insensible  man  who  stood  unmoved  by  his  side, 
sprang  into  the  boat.  The  Norwegian  followed  her,  and  in  a 
threatening  tone  demanded  his  hire.  She  now  recollected  it, 
and  putting  her  hand  into  her  vest,  gave  him  the  string  of 
pearls  which  had  been  her  necklace.  He  was  satisfied,  and 
the  boat  pushed  off. 

The  cross,  the  cherished  memorial  of  her  hallowed  meeting 
with  Wallace  in  the  chapel  of  Snawdown,  and  which  always  hung 
suspended  on  her  bosom,  was  now  in  her  hand,  and  pressed 
close  to  her  heart.  The  rowers  plied  their  oars,  and  her  eyes, 
with  a  gaze  as  if  they  would  pierce  the  horizon,  looked 
intently  onward,  while  the  men  labored  through  the  tide. 
Even  to  see  the  walls  which  contained  Wallace  seemed  to 
promise  her  a  degree  of  comfort  she  dared  hardly  hope  her- 
self fated  to  enjoy.  At  last  the  awful  battlements  of  Eng- 
land's state  prison  rose  before  her.  She  could  not  mistake 
them.  "  That  is  the  Tower,"  said  one  of  the  rowers.  A  shriek 
escaped  her,  and  instantly  covering  her  face  with  her  hands, 
she  tried  to  shut  from  her  sight  those  very  walls  she  had 
so  long  sought  amongst  the  clouds.  They  imprisoned  Wal- 
lace. He  groaned  within  their  confines,  and  their  presence 
paralyzed  her  heart. 

"  Shall  I  die  before  I  reach  thee,  Wallace  ?  "  was  the  ques- 
tion her  almost  flitting  soul  uttered,  as  she,  trembling,  yet  with 
swift  steps,  ascended  the  stone  stairs  which  led  from  the 
water's  edge  to  the  entrance  of  the  Tower.  She  flew  through 
the  different  courts  to  the  one  in  which  stood  the  prison  of 
Wallace.  One  of  the  boatmen,  being  bargeman  to  the  governor 
of  the  Tower,  as  a  privileged  person,  conducted  her  unmolested 
through  every  ward  till  she  reached  the  place  of  her  destina- 
tion. There  she  dismissed  him,  with  a  ring  from  her  finger 
as  his  reward,  and  passing  a  body  of  soldiers  who  kept  guard 
before  a  large  porch  that  led  to  the  dungeons,  she  entered,  and 
found  herself  in  an  immense  paved  room.  A  single  sentinel 
stood  at  the  end  near  to  an  iron  grating,  or  small  portcullis ; 
there,  then,  was  Wallace.  Forgetting  her  disguise  and  situa- 
tion in  the  frantic  eagerness  of  her  pursuit,  she  hastily 
advanced  to  the  man.  "  Let  me  pass  to  Sir  William  Wallace," 
cried  she,  "and  treasures  shall  be  your  reward."  —  "Whose 
treasures,  my  pretty  page  ?  "  demanded  the  soldier.  "  I  dare 
not,  were  it  at  the  suit  of  the  Countess  of  Gloucester  herself." — 
"  Oh,"  cried  Helen,  "  for  the  sake  of  a  greater  than  any  coun- 
tess in  the  land  take  this  jewelled  bracelet  and  let  'me  pass ! " 


294  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

The  man,  misapprehending  the  words  of  this  adjuration,  at 
sight  of  the  diamonds,  supposing  the  page  must  come  from  the 
good  queen,  no  longer  demurred.  Putting  the  bracelet  into  his 
bosom,  he  whispered  Helen,  that  as  he  granted  this  permission 
at  the  risk  of  his  life,  she  must  conceal  herself  in  the  interior 
chamber  of  the  prisoner's,  dungeon  should  any  person  from  the 
warden  visit  him  during  their  interview.  She  readily  promised 
this;  and  he  informed  her  that  when  through  this  door  she 
must  cross  two  other  apartments,  the  bolts  to  the  entrance  of 
which  she  must  undraw,  and  then  at  the  extremity  of  a  long 
passage,  a  door  fastened  by  a  latch  would  admit  her  to  Sir 
William  Wallace.  With  these  words  the  soldier  removed  the 
massy  bars,  and  Helen  entered. 


CHAPTER   LXXXIL 

THE    TOWER    OF    LONDON. 

HELEN'S  fleet  steps  carried  her  in  a  few  minutes  through  the 
intervening  dungeons  to  the  door  which  would  restore  to  her 
eyes  the  being  with  whose  life  her  existence  seemed  blended. 
The  bolts  had  yielded  to  her  ha.nds.  The  iron  latch  now  gave 
way,  and  the  ponderous  oak  grating  dismally  on  its  hinges,  she 
looked  forward  and  beheld  the  object  of  all  her  solicitude  lean- 
ing along  a  couch ;  a  stone  table  was  before  him,  at  which  he 
seemed  writing.  He  raised  his  head  at  the  sound.  The  peace 
of  virtue  was  in  his  eyes,  and  a  smile  on  his  lips,  as  if  he  had 
expected  some  angel  visitant. 

The  first  glance  at  his  pale  but  heavenly  countenance  struck 
to  the  heart  of  Helen ;  veneration,  anguish,  shame  —  all 
rushed  on  her  at  once.  She  was  in  his  presence;  but  how 
might  he  turn  from  consolations  he  had  not  sought !  The  in- 
temperate passion  of  her  stepmother  now  glared  before  her ; 
his  contempt  of  the  countess's  unsolicited  advances  appeared 
ready  to  be  extended  to  her  rash  daughter-in-law,  and  with  an 
irrepressible  cry  which  seemed  to  breathe  out  her  life,  Helen 
would  have  fled,  but  her  failing  limbs  bent  under  her,  and  she 
fell  senseless  into  the  dungeon.  Wallace  started  from  his  re- 
clining position.  He  thought  his  senses  must  deceive  him,  — 
and  yet  the  shriek  was  Lady  Helen's.  He  had  heard  the  same 
cry  on  the  Pentland  hills,  in  the  chamber  of  Chateau  Galliard. 
He  arose  agitated;  he  approached  the  prostrate  youth,  and  bend- 


THE    TOWER    OF  LONDON.  295 

ing  to  the  inanimate  form,  took  off  the  Norman  hat;  he  parted 
the  heavy  locks  which  fell  over  her  brow,  and  recognized  the 
features  of  her  who  alone  had  ever  shared  his  meditations  with 
his  Marion.  He  sprinkled  water  on  her  face  and  hands ;  he 
touched  her  cheek ;  it  was  ashy  cold,  and  the  chill  struck  to  his 
heart.  "  Helen ! "  exclaimed  he,  "  Helen,  awake  !  Speak  to  thy 
friend ! " 

Still  she  was  motionless.  "Dead!  "  cried  he  with  increased 
emotion.  His  eye  and  his  heart  in  a  moment  discerned  and 
understood  the  rapid  emaciation  of  those  lovely  features. 
Now  fearing  the  worst,  "  Gone  so  soon !  "  repeated  he.  "  Gone 
to  tell  my  Marion  that  her  Wallace  comes.  Blessed  angel ! " 
cried  he,  clasping  her  to  his  breast  with  an  energy  of  which  he 
was  not  aware,  "  take  me,  take  me  with  thee ! "  The  pressure, 
the  voice,  roused  the  dormant  life  of  Helen.  With  a  torturing 
sigh  she  unsealed  her  eyes  from  the  deathlike  load  that  op- 
pressed them  and  found  herself  in  the  arms  of  Wallace. 

All  her  wandering  senses,  which  from  the  first  promulgation 
of  his  danger  had  been  kept  in  a  bewildered  state,  now  rallied, 
and,  in  recovered  sanity,  smote  her  to  the  soul.  Though  still 
overwhelmed  with  grief  at  the  fate  which  threatened  to  tear 
him  from  her  and  life,  she  now  wondered  how  she  could  ever 
have  so  trampled  on  the  retreating  modesty  of  her  nature  as 
to  have  brought  herself  thus  into  his  presence,  and  in  a  voice 
of  horror,  of  despair,  believing  that  she  had  forever  destroyed 
herself  in  his  opinion,  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Wallace !  how 
came  I  here  ?  I  am  lost  —  and  innocently ;  but  God,  the 
pure  God,  can  read  the  soul !" 

She  lay  in  hopeless  misery  on  his  breast,  with  her  eyes 
again  closed,  almost  unconscious  of  the  support  on  which  she 
leaned.  "  Lady  Helen,"  returned  he,  "  was  it  other  than 
Wallace  you  sought  in  these  dungeons  ?  I  dared  to  think 
that  the  Parent  we  both  adore  had  sent  you  hither  to  be  His 
harbinger  of  consolation.  "  Eecalled  to  self-possession  by  the 
kindness  of  these  words,  Helen  turned  her  head  on  his  bosom, 
and,  in  a  burst  of  grateful  tears,  hardly  articulated,  "And  will 
you  not  abhor  me  for  this  act  of  madness  ?  But  I  was  not  my- 
self. And  yet,  where  should  I  live  or  die  but  at  the  feet  of 
my  benefactor  ?  "  The  steadfast  soul  of  Wallace  was  subdued 
by  this  language  and  the  manner  of  its  utterance.  It  was  the ' 
disinterested  dictates  of  a  pure,  though  agitated,  spirit  which 
he  now  was  convinced  did  most  exclusively  love  him,  but  with 
the  passion  of  an  angel ;  and  the  tears  of  a  sympathy  which 
spoke  their  kindred  natures  stole  from  his  eyes  as  he  bent  his 


296  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

cheek  on  her  head.  She  felt  them,  and,' rejoicing  ir.  such  as 
assurance  that  she  yet  possessed  his  esteem,  a  blessed  cairn 
diffused  itself  over  her  mind,  and,  raising  herself,  with  a  look 
of  virtuous  confidence  she  exclaimed,  "  Then  you  do  under- 
stand me,  Wallace  ?  You  pardon  me  this  apparent  forgetful- 
ness  of  my  sex  ?  and  you  recognize  a  true  sister  in  Helen  Mar  ? 
I  may  administer  to  that  noble  heart  till"  —  she  paused, 
turned  deadly  pale,  and  then,  clasping  his  hand  in  both  hers, 
in  bitter  agony  added,  "  till  we  meet  in  heaven ! " 

"  And  blissful,  dearest  saint,  will  be  our  union  there/'  i\  - 
plied  he,  "  where  soul  meets  soul  unencumbered  of  these 
earthly  fetters,  and  mingles  with  each  other,  even  as  thy 
tender  tear-drops  now  glide  into  mine.  But  there,  rny  Helen, 
we  shall  never  weep.  No  heart  will  be  left  unsatisfied;  no 
spirit  will  mourn  in  unrequited  love ;  for  that  happy  region 
is  the  abode  of  love,  —  of  love  without  the  defilements  or  the 
disquietudes  of  mortality ;  for  there  it  is  an  everlasting,  pure 
enjoyment.  It  is  a  full,  diffusive  tenderness,  which,  penetrat- 
ing all  hearts,  unites  the  whole  in  one  spirit  of  boundless  love 
in  the  bosom  of  our  God,  who,  the  source  of  all  love,  as  John, 
the  beloved  disciple,  saith,  l  so  loved  a  lost  world  that  he  sent 
his  only  Son  to  redeem  it  from  its  sins  and  to  bring  it  to 
eternal  blessedness/  9i 

"  Ah  ! "  cried  Helen,  throwing  herself  on  her  knees  in  holy 
enthusiasm,  "  join,  then,  your  prayers  with  mine,  most  revered 
of  friends,  that  I  may  be  admitted  into  such  blessedness. 
Petition  our  God  to  forgive  me,  and  do  you  forgive  me,  that  I 
have  sometimes  envied  the  love  you  bear  your  Marion.  But 
I  now  love  her  so  entirely  that  to  be  hers  and  your  minister- 
ing spirit  in  Paradise  would  amply  satisfy  my  soul." 

"  Oh,  Helen  !  "  cried  Wallace,  grasping  her  uplifted  hands  in 
his  and  clasping  them  to  his  heart,  "  thy  soul  and  Marion's  are 
indeed  one,  and  as  one  I  love  ye." 

This  unlooked-for  declaration  almost  overpowered  Helen  in 
its  flood  of  happiness,  and  with  a  smile  which  seemed  to 
picture  the  very  heavens  opening  before  her,  she  turned  her 
eyes  from  him  to  a  crucifix  which  stood  on  the  table,  and 
bowing  her  head  on  its  pedestal,  was  lost  in  the  devotion 
of  rapturous  gratitude. 

At  this  juncture,  when,  perhaps,  the  purest  bliss  that  ever 
descended  on  woman's  heart  now  glowed  in  that  of  Helen, 
the  Earl  of  Gloucester  entered.  His  were  not  visits  of  con- 
solation, for  he  knew  that  his  friend,  who  had  built  his 
heroism  on  the  rock  of  Christianity,  did  not  require  the  com- 


THE    TOWER    OF  LONDON.  297 

fortings  of  any  mortal  hand.  At  sight  of  him,  Wallace,  point- 
ing to  the  kneeling  Helen,  beckoned  him  into  the  inner 
cell,  where  his  straw  pallet  lay,  and  there,  in  a  low  voice, 
declared  who  she  was,  and  requested  the  earl  to  use  his 
authority  to  allow  her  to  remain  with  him  to  the  last. 

"  After  that,'7  said  he,  "  I  rely  on  you,  generous  Gloucester, 
to  convey  safely  back  to  her  country  a  being  who  seems  to 
have  nothing  of  earth  about  her  but  the  terrestrial  body  which 
enshrines  her  angelic  soul." 

The  sound  of  a  voice  speaking  with  Wallace  aroused  Helen 
from  her  happy  trance.  Alarmed  that  it  might  be  the  fatal 
emissaries  of  the  tyrant  come  prematurely  to  summon  him  to 
his  last  hour,  she  started  on  her  feet.  "Where  are  you, 
Wallace  ? "  cried  she,  looking  distractedly  around  her.  "  I 
must  be  with  you  even  in  death."  , 

Hearing  her  fearful  cry,  he  hastened  into  the  dungeon,  and 
relieved  her  immediate  terror  by  naming  the  Earl  of  Glouces- 
ter, who  followed  him.  The  conviction  that  Wallace  was 
under  mortal  sentence,  which  the  Heaven-sent  impression  of 
his  eternal  bliss  had  just  almost  obliterated,  now  glared  upon 
her  with  redoubled  horrors.  This  world  again  rose  before  her 
in  the  person  of  Gloucester.  It  reminded  her  that  she  and 
Wallace  w^ere  not  yet  passed  into  the  hereafter,  whose  antici- 
pated reunion  had  wrapt  her  in  such  sweet  elysium.  He  had  yet 
the  bitter  cup  of  death  to  drink  to  the  dregs,  and  all  of  human 
weakness  again  writhed  within  her  bosom.  "  And  is  there  no 
hope  ?  "  faltered  she,  looking  earnestly  on  the  disturbed  face 
of  Gloucester,  who  had  bowed  with  a  pitying  respect  to  her 
as  he  approached  her.  And  then,  while  he  seemed  hesitating 
for  an  answer,  she  more  firmly,  but  imploringly,  resumed : 
"  Oh,  let  me  seek  your  king  !  Once  he  was  a  crusade  prince. 
The  cross  was  then  on  his  breast,  and  the  love  of  Him  who 
came  to  redeem  lost  man,  nay,  even  his  direst  enemies,  from 
death  unto  life,  must  have  been  then  in  your  king's  heart.  Oh, 
if  once  there,  it  cannot  be  wholly  extinguished  now  !  Let  me, 
gracious  earl,  but  recall  to  him  that  he  was  then  beloved  by  a 
queen  who  to  this  day  is  the  glory  of  her  sex.  On  that  spot 
of  holy  contest  she  preserved  his  life  from  an  assassin's 
poison  by  daring  the  sacrifice  of  her  own.  But  she  lived  to 
bless  him  and  to  be  blessed  herself.  While  Sir  William 
Wallace,  also  a  Christian  knight,  anointed  by  virtue  and  his 
cause,  hath  only  done  for  his  own  country  and  its  trampled 
land  what  King  Edward  then  did  for  Christendom  in  Pales- 
tine. And  he  was  roused  to  the  defence  by  a  deed  worse  than 


298  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

ever  infidel  inflicted.  The  wife  of  his  bosom,  who  had  all  of 
angel  about  her  but  that  of  her  mortal  body,  was  stabbed  by 
a  murderous  Southron  governor  in  Scotland  because  she 
would  not  betray  her  husband  to  his  desolating  brand.  I 
would  relate  this  on  my  knees  to  your  royal  Edward,  and  call 
on  the  spirit  of  his  sainted  queen  to  enforce  my  suit  by  the 
memory  of  her  love  and  her  devotedness." 

Helen,  who  had  risen,  in  her  energy  of  speech  and  supplica- 
tion suddenly  paused,  clasped  her  hands,  and  stood  with 
upward  eyes,  looking  as  if  she  beheld  the  beatified  object  of 
her  invocation. 

"  Dearest  sister  of  my  soul ! "  cried  Wallace,  who  had  for- 
borne to  interrupt  her,  taking  her  clasped  hands  in  his,  "  thy 
knees  shall  never  bend  to  any  less  than  to  the  blessed  Lord  of 
all  mankind  for  me*.  Did  He  will  my  longer  pilgrimage  on 
this  earth,  of  which  my  spirit  is  already  weary,  it  would  not 
be  in  the  power  of  any  human  tyrant  to  hold  me  in  these  bonds. 
And  for  Edward,  believe  that  not  all  thy  tender  eloquence 
could  make  one  impression  where  a  long,  obdurate  ambition 
hath  set  so  deep  a  seal.  I  am  content  to  go,  my  sister,  and 
angels  whisper  me "  (and  his  voice  became  subdued,  though 
still  calm,  while  he  added  in  a  lowered  tone,  like  that  angel 
whisper)  "  that  thy  bridal  bed  will  be  in  William  Wallace's 
grave."  She  spoke  not,  but  at  this  assurance  turned  her  tear- 
ful eyes  upon  him  with  a  beam  of  delight,  —  with  such  delight 
the  vestal  consigns  herself  to  the  cloister ;  with  such  de- 
light the  widowed  mourner  lays  her  head  to  rest  on  the  tomb 
of  him  she  loved.  But  with  such  delight  none  are  acquainted 
who  know  not  what  it  is  to  be  wedded  to  the  soul  of  a  beloved 
being,  when  the  body  which  was  once  its  vestment  lies  moul- 
dering in  the  earth. 

Gloucester  contemplated  this  chaste  union  of  two  spotless 
hearts  with  an  admiration  almost  amounting  to  devotion. 
"Noble  lady,"  said  he,  uthe  message  that  I  came  to  impart  to 
Sir  William  Wallace  bears  with  it  a  show  of  hope,  and  I  trust 
that  your  gentle  spirit  will  yet  be  as  persuasive  as  consolatory. 
A  deputation  has  just  arrived  from  our  border-counties,  headed 
by  the  good  Barons  De  Hilton  and  De  Blenkinsopp,1  praying 
the  royal  mercy  for  their  gallant  foe,  who  had  been  most 

1  These  two  worthy  barons  have  been  noted  before  as  kinsmen.  There  are  many  wild 
legends  extant  about  the  castle  of  Hilton,  and  the  apparition  of  the  last  male  heir,  a  boy, 
who  still  haunts  its  old  heathy  hills.  The  domains  of  his  brother  baron,  too,  have 
fallen  to  the  female  line,  the  daughters  of  whom  were  of  old  proverbially  called  "the 
fair-handed,"  and  the  sous  "  the  straight-handed."  My  own  revered  mother,  who  wae 
one  of  the  last  of  the  name,  bore  the  double  attribute  in  her  own  upright  mind  and 
onre  beautiful  person.  —  (1840.) 


THE    TOWER    OF   LONDON.  299 

generous  to  them,  they  set  forth,  in  their  extremity.  And  the 
king  was  listening  to  them,  with  what  temper  I  know  not, 
when  a  private  embassy  as  opportunely  made  its  appearance 
from  France  on  the  same  errand ;  in  short,  to  negotiate  with 
Edward  for  the  safety  of  our  friend,  as  a  prince  of  that  realm. 
I  left  the  ambassadors/'  continued  the  earl,  turning  to  Wal- 
lace, "in  debate  with  his  majesty,  and  he  has  at  length  granted 
a  suspension,  nay,  has  even  promised  a  repeal  of  the  horrible 
injustice  that  was  to  be  completed  to-morrow,  if  you  can  be 
brought  to  accord  with  certain  proposals  now  to  be  laid  before 
you.  Accept  them,  and  Edward  will  comply  with  all  King 
Philip's  demands  in  your  behalf." 

"  Then  you  will  accept  them  ?  "  cried  Helen,  in  a  tumult  of 
suspense.  The  communication  of  Gloucester  had  made  no 
change  in  the  equable  pulse  of  Wallace,  and  he  replied,  with  a 
look  of  tender  pity  upon  her  animated  countenance,  "  The  pro- 
posals of  Edward  are  too  likely  to  be  snares  for  that  honor 
which  I  would  bear  with  me  uncontaminated  to  the  grave. 
Therefore,  dearest  consoler  of  my  last  hour,  do  not  give  way  to 
hopes  which  a  greater  King  than  Edward  may  command  me  to 
disappoint."  Helen  bowed  her  head  in  silence.  The  color 
again  faded  from  her  cheek  and  despair  once  more  seized  on 
her  heart. 

Gloucester  resumed,  and  after  narrating  some  particulars  con- 
cerning the  conference  between  the  king  and  the  ambassadors, 
he  suggested  the  impracticability  of  secretly  retaining  Lady 
Helen  for  any  length  of  time  in  the  state  dungeon.  "  I  dare 
not,  "  continued  he,  "  be  privy  to  her  presence  here  and  yet  con- 
ceal it  from  the  king.  I  know  not  what  messengers  he  may  send 
to  impart  his  conditions  to  you,  and  should  she  be  discovered, 
Edward,  doubly  incensed,  would  tear  her  from  you,  and,  as  an 
accessory,  so  involve  me  in  his  displeasure  that  I  should  be  dis- 
abled from  serving  either  of  you  further.  Were  I  so  to  honor 
his  feelings  as  a  man  as  to  mention  it  to  him,  I  do  not  believe 
that  he  would  oppose  her  wishes ;  but  how  to  reveal  such  a 
circumstance  with  any  regard  to  her  fair  fame  I  know  not,  for 
all  are  not  sufficiently  virtuous  to  believe  her  spotless  inno- 
cence." Helen  hastily  interrupted  Gloucester,  and  with  firm- 
ness said,  "  When  I  entered  these  walls  the  world  and  I  parted 
forever.  The  good  or  the  evil  opinion  of  the  impure  in  heart 
can  never  affect  me  — they  shall  never  see  me  more.  The  inno- 
cent will  judge  me  by  themselves  and  by  the  end  of  my  race. 
I  came  to  minister  with  a  sister's  duty  to  my  own  and  my 
father's  preserver,  and  while  he  abides  here  I  will  never 


600  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

consent  to  leave  his  feet.  When  he  goes  hence,  if  it  be  to  bless 
mankind  again,  I  shall  find  the  longest  life  too  short  to  pour 
forth  all  my  gratitude,  and  for  that  purpose  I  will  dedicate 
myself  in  some  nunnery  of  my  native  land.  But  should  he  be 
taken  from  a  world'  so  unworthy  of  him,  soon,  very  soon,  I 
shall  cease  to  feel  its  aspersions  in  the  grave." 

"No  aspersions  which  I  can  avert,  dearest  Helen,"  cried 
Wallace,  "  shall  ever  tarnish  the  fame  of  one  whose  purity 
can  only  be  transcended  by  her  who  is  now  made  perfect  m 
heaven.  Consent,  noblest  of  women,  to  wear  for  the  few  days 
I  may  yet  linger  here,  a  name  which  thy  sister  angel  has  sancti- 
fied to  me.  Give  me  a  legal  right  to  call  you  mine,  and  Edward 
himself  will  not  then  dare  to  divide  what  God  has  joined  to- 
gether." 

Helen  paused  —  even  her  heart  seemed  to  cease  its  pulsation 
in  the  awful  moment.  Did  she  hear  aright  ?  and  was  she  in- 
deed going  to  invade  the  rights  of  the  wife  she  had  so  often 
vowed  to  regard  as  the  sole  object  of  Wallace's  dearest  wishes  ? 
Oh,  no ;  it  was  not  the  lover  that  shone  in  his  luminous  eyes  ; 
it  was  not  the  mistress  that  glowed  in  her  bosom.  Words  might 
be  breathed,  but  no  change  would  be  wrought  in  the  souls  of 
them  who  were  already  separated  from  the  earth.  With  these 
thoughts  Helen  turned  towards  Wallace ;  she  attempted  to 
answer,  but  the  words  died  on  the  seraphic  smile  which  beamed 
upon  her  lips,  and  she  dropped  her  head  upon  his  breast. 

Gloucester,  who  saw  no  other  means  of  ensuring  to  his  friend 
the  comfort  of  her  society,  was  rejoiced  at  this  mutual  resolu- 
tion. He  had  longed  to  propose  it ;  but  considering  the  pe- 
culiarities of  their  situation,  knew  not  how  to  do  so  without 
seeming  to  mock  their  sensibility  and  fate.  It  was  now  near 
midnight,  and  having  read  the  consent  of  Helen  in  the  tender 
emotion  which  denied  her  speech,  without  further  delay  he 
quitted  the  apartment  to  summon  the  confessor  of  the  warden 
to  unite  their  hands. 

On  his  reentrance  he  found  Helen  sitting  dissolved  in  tears, 
with  her  hand  clasped  in  his  friend's.  The  sacred  rite  was  soon 
performed  which  endowed  her  with  all  the  claims  upon  Wal- 
lace which  her  devoted  heart  had  so  long  contemplated  with 
resigned  hopelessness,  —  to  be  his  helpmate  on  earth,  his  part- 
ner in  the  tomb,  his  dear  companion  in  heaven.  With  the 
last  benediction  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees  before  him, 
and  put  his  hand  to  her  lips  in  eloquent  silence.  Gloucester, 
with  a  look  of  kind  farewell,  withdrew  with  the  priest. 

"  Thou  noble  daughter  of  the  noblest  Scot,"  said  Wallace, 


THE    TOWER    OF  LONDON.  301 

raising  her  from  the  ground,  "  this  bosom  is  thy  place,  and  not 
my  feet.  Long  it  will  not  be  given  me  to  hold  thee  here  ;  but 
even  in  the  hours  or  years  of  our  separation  my  spirit  will  hover 
near  thee  to  bear  thine  to  our  everlasting  home." 

The  heart  of  Helen  alternately  beat  violently,  and  stopped, 
as  if  the  vital  currents  were  suddenly  impeded.  Hope  and 
fear  agitated  her  by  turns,  but,  clinging  to  the  nattering  ideas 
which  the  arrival  of  the  ambassadors  had  excited,  she  timidly 
breathed  a  hope,  that,  by  the  present  interference  of  King 
Philip,  Edward  might  not  be  found  inexorable. 

"  Disturb  not  the  holy  composure  of  your  soul  by  such  an 
expectation,"  returned  Wallace ;  "  I  know  my  adversary  too 
well  to  anticipate  his  relinquishing  the  object  of  his  vengeance 
but  at  a  price  more  infamous"  than  the  most  ignoble  death. 
Therefore,  best-beloved  of  all  on  earth,  look  for  no  deliverance 
for  thy  Wallace  but  what  passes  through  the  grave ;  and  to 
me,  dearest  Helen,  its  gates  are  on  golden  hinges  turning,  for 
all  is  light  and  bliss  which  shines  on  me  from  within  their 
courts." 

Helen's  thoughts,  in  the  idea  of  his  being  torn  from  her, 
could  not  wrest  themselves  from  the  direful  images  of  his 
execution ;  she  shudderd,  and  in  faltering  accents  replied, 
"Ah,  could  we  glide  from  sleep  into  so  blessed  a  death,  I 
would  hail  it  even  for  thee  !  But  the  threatened  horrors, 
should  they  fall  on  thy  sacred  head,  will  in  that  hour,  I  trust, 
also  divorce  my  soul  from  this  grievous  world." 

"  Not  so,  my  Helen,"  returned  he ;  "  keep  not  thy  dear  eyes 
forever  fixed  on  the  gloomy  appendages  of  death.  The 
scaffold  and  the  grave  have  naught  to  do  with  the  immortal 
soul ;  it  cannot  be  wounded  by  the  one,  nor  confined  by  the 
other.  And  is  not  the  soul  thy  full  and  perfect  Wallace  ? 
It  is  that  which  now  speaks  to  thee;  which  will  cherish  thy 
beloved  idea  forever.  Lament  not,  then,  how  soon  this  body, 
its  mere  apparel,  is  laid  down  in  the  dust.  But  rejoice  still  in 
my  existence,  which,  through  Him  who  <  led  captivity  captive/ 
will  never  know  a  pause.  Comfort,  then,  thy  heart,  my  soul's 
dear  sister,  and  sojourn  a  little  while  on  this  earth  to  bear 
witness  for  thy  Wallace  to  the  friends  he  loves." 

Helen,  who  felt  the  import  of  his  words  in  her  heart,  gently 
bowed  her  head,  and  he  proceeded : 

"  As  the  first  who  stemmed  with  me  the  torrent  which, 
with  God's  help,  we  so  often  laid  into  a  calm,  I  mention  to 
you  my  faithful  men  of  Lanark.  Many  of  them  bled  and 
died  in  the  contest,  and  to  their  orphans,  with  the  children  of 


302  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

those  who  yet  survive,  I  consign  all  of  the  world's  wealth  that 
yet  belongs  to  William  Wallace :  Ellerslie  and  its  estates  are 
theirs.1  To  Bruce,  my  sovereign  and  my  friend,  the  loved 
companion  of  the  hour  in  which  I  freed  you,  my  Helen,  from 
the  arms  of  violence  —  to  him  I  bequeath  this  heart,  knit  to 
him  by  bonds  more  dear  than  even  loyalty.  Bear  it  to  him, 
and  when  he  is  summond  to  his  heavenly  throne,  then  let  his 
heart  and  mine  till  up  one  urn.  To  Lord  Euthven,  to  Both- 
well,  to  Lockhart,  to  Scrymgeour,  and  to  Kirkpatrick,  I  give 
my  prayers  and  blessings." 

Here  Wallace  paused.  Helen  had  listened  to  him  with  a 
holy  attention  which  hardly  allowed  a  sigh  to  breathe  from 
her  steadfast  heart;  she  spoke,  but  the  voice  was  scarcely 
audible :  "  And  what  for  him  who  loves  you  dearer  than 
life  —  for  Edwin  ?  He  cannot  be  forgotten."  Wallace  started 
at  this  ;  then  she  was  ignorant  of  the  death  of  that  too  faith- 
ful friend.  In  a  hurrying  accent  he  replied,  "  Never  forgotten ! 
Oh,  Helen  !  I  asked  for  him  life,  and  Heaven  gave  him  long 
life,  even  forever  and  ever. "  Helen's  eyes  met  his  with  a 
look  of  awful  inquiry :  "  That  would  mean  he  is  gone  before 
you  ?  "  The  countenance  of  Wallace  answered  her.  "  Happy 
Edwin ! "  cried  she,  and  the  tears  rained  over  her  cheeks 
as  she  bent  her  head  on  her  arms.  Wallace  continued  :  "  He 
laid  down  his  life  to  preserve  mine,  in  the  hovel  of  Lumloch. 
The  false  Monteith  could  get  no  Scot  to  lay  hands  on  their 
true  defender ;  and  even  the  foreign  ruffians  he  brought  to  the 
task  might  have  spared  the  noble  boy,  but  an  arrow  from  the 
traitor  himself  pierced  his  heart.  Contention  was  then  110 
more,  and  I  resigned  myself  to  follow  him." 

"What  a  desert  does  the  world  become  !  "  exclaimed  Helen  ; 
then  turning  on  Wallace  with  a  saint-like  smile,  she  added,  "  I 
would  hardly  now  withhold  you.  You  will  bear  him  Helen's 
love,  and  tell  him  how  soon  I  shall  be  with  you.  If  our  Father 
will  not  allow  my  heart  to  break,  in  his  mercy  he  may  take  my 
soul  in  the  prayers  which  I  shall  hourly  breathe  to  him."  — 
"  Thou  has  been  lent  to  me  as  my  sweet  consolation  here,  my 
Helen,"  replied  he,  "  and  the  Almighty  dispenser  of  that  com- 
fort will  not  long  banish  you  from  the  object  of  your  innocent 
wishes." 

While  they  thus  poured  into  each  other's  bosoms  the  inef« 
fable  balm  of  friendship's  purest  tenderness,  the  eyes  of  Wal- 
lace insensibly  closed.  "  Your  gentle  influence,"  gently 
murmured  he,  "brings  that  sleep  to  my  eyelids  which  has  not 

1  This  bequest  of  Wallace  is  a  fact. 


THE    STATE    DUNGEON.  303 

visited  them  since  I  first  entered  these  walls.  Like  my  Marion, 
Helen,  thy  presence  brings  healing  on  its  wings."  —  "  Sleep, 
then,"  replied  she,  "  and  Marion's  angel  spirit  will  keep  watch 
with  mine." 


CHAPTER  LXXXIIL 

THE    STATE   DUNGEON. 

i 

THOUGH  all  the  furies  of  the  elements  seemed  let  loose  to 
rage  around  the  walls  of  the  dungeon,  still  Wallace  'slept  in 
the  loud  uproar.  Calm  was  within,  and  the  warfare  of  the 
world  could  not  disturb  the  balmy  rest  into  which  the  angel  of 
peace  had  steeped  his  senses.  From  this  profound  repose  he 
was  awakened  by  the  entrance  of  Gloucester.  Helen  had  just 
sunk  into  a  slight  slumber,  but  the  first  words  of  the  earl 
aroused  her,  and  rising,  she  followed  her  beloved  Wallace  to 
his  side. 

Gloucester  put  a  scroll  into  the  hand  of  Wallace.  "  Sign 
that,"  said  he,  "  and  you  are  free.  I  know  not  its  contents, 
but  the  king  commissioned  me,  as  a  mark  of  his  grace,  to  be 
the  messenger  of  your  release." 

Wallace  read  the  conditions,  and  the  color  deepened  on  his 
cheek  as  his  eye  met  each  article.  "  He  was  to  reveal  the 
asylum  of  Bruce,  to  forswear  Scotland  forever,  and  to  take  an 
oath  of  allegiance  to  Edward,  the  seal  of  which  should  be  the 
English  earldom  of  Cleveland."  Wallace  closed  the  parchment. 
"  King  Edward  knows  well  what  will  be  my  reply  ;  I  need  not 
speak  it." —  "  You  will  accept  his  terms  ?  "  asked  the  earl. 

"  Not  to  ensure  me  a  life  of  ages,  with  all  earthly  bliss  my 
portion.  I  have  spoken  to  these  offers  before.  Read  them, 
my  noble  friend,  and  then  give  him,  as  mine,  the  answer  that 
would  be  yours."  Gloucester  obeyed  ;  and  while  his  eyes  were 
bent  on  the  parchment,  those  of  Helen  were  fixed  on  her  almost 
worshipped  husband.  She  looked  through  his  beaming  counte- 
nance into  his  very  soul,  and  there  saw  the  sublime  purpose 
that  consigned  his  unbending  head  to  the  scaffold.  When 
Gloucester  had  finished,  covered  with  the  burning  blush  of 
shame,  he  crushed  the  disgraceful  scroll  in  his  hand,  and  ex- 
claimed with  honorable  vehemence  against  the  deep  duplicity 
and  deeper  cruelty  of  his  father-in-law  so  to  mock  by  base 
subterfuges  the  embassy  of  France  and  its  noble  object. 

"  This  is  the  morning  in  which  I  was  to  have  met  my  fate," 


304  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

replied  Wallace.  "  Tell  this  tyrant  of  the  earth  that  I  am  even 
now  ready  to  receive  the  last  stroke  of  his  injustice.  In  the 
peaceful  grave,  my  Helen,"  added  he,  turning  to  her  who  sat 
pale  and  aghast,  "  I  shall  be  beyond  his  power."  Gloucester 
walked  the  room  in  great  disturbance  of  mind,  while  Wallace 
continued,  in  a  lowered  tone,  to  recall  some  perception  of  his 
own  consolations  to  the  abstracted  and  soul-struck  Helen.  The 
earl  stopped  suddenly  before  them.  "  That  the  king  did  not 
expect  your  acquiescence  without  some  hesitation,  I  cannot 
doubt ;  for  when  I  informed  him  the  Lady  Helen  Mar,  now  your 
wife,  was  the  sharer  of  your  prison,  he  started,  and  told  me  that 
should  you  still  oppose  yourself  to  his  conditions,  I  must  bring 
her  to  him,  who  might,  perhaps,  be  the  means  of  persuading 
you  to  receive  his  mercy." 

"  Never  ! "  replied  Wallace.  "  I  reject  what  he  calls  mercy. 
He  has  no  rights  of  judgment  over  me,  and  his  pretended  mercy 
is  an  assumption  which,  as  a  true  Scot,  I  despise.  He  may 
rifle  me  .of  my  life,  but  he  shall  never  beguile  me  into  any 
acknowledgment  of  an  authority  that  is  false.  No  wife  nor 
aught  of  mine  shall  ever  stand  before  him  as  a  suppliant  for 
William  Wallace.  I  will  die  as  I  have  lived,  the  equal  of 
Edward  in  all  things  but  a  crown,  and  his  superior,  in  being  true 
to  the  glory  of  prince  or  peasant  —  unblemished  honor !  " 

Finding  the  Scottish  chief  not  to  be  shaken  in  this  determi- 
nation, Gloucester,  humbled  to  the  soul  by  the  base  tyranny  of 
his  royal  father-in-law,  soon  after  withdrew  to  acquaint  that 
haughty  monarch  with  the  ill-success  of  his  embassy.  But  ere 
noon  had  turned  he  reappeared  with  a  countenance  declarative 
of  some  distressing  errand.  He  found  Helen  awakened  to  the 
full  perception  of  all  her  pending  evils  —  that  she  was  on  the 
eve  of  losing  forever  the  object  dearest  to  her  in  the  world, 
and  though  she  wept  not,  though  she  listened  to  the  lord  of  all 
her  wishes  with  smiles  of  holy  approval,  her  heart  bled  within, 
and  with  a  welcome  which  enforced  his  consolatory  arguments, 
she  hailed  her  own  inwardly  foreboding  mortal  pains. 

"  I  come, "  said  Gloucester,  "  not  to  urge  you  to  send  Lady 
Helen  as  a  suitor  to  King  Edward,  but  to  spare  her  the  misery 
of  being  separated  from  you  while  life  is  yours."  He  then 
said  that  the  French  ambassadors  were  kept  in  ignorance  of 
the  conditions  which  were  offered  to  the  object  of  their  mission, 
and  on  being  informed  that  he  had  refused  them,  they  showed 
themselved  so  little  satisfied  with  the  sincerity  of  what  had 
been  done,  that  Edward  thought  it  expedient  to  conciliate 
Philip  by  taking  some  pains  to  dislodge  th^ir  suspicions.  To 


THE    STATE    DUNGEON.  305 

this  effect  he  proposed  to  the  French  lords  sending  his  final 
proposition  to  Sir  William  Wallace  by  that  chieftain's  wife, 
who  he  found  was  then  his  companion  in  the  tower.  "  On  my 
intimating/'  continued  the  earl,  "that  I  feared  she  would  be 
unable  to  appear  before  him,  his  answer  was :  l  Let  her  see  to 
that ;  such  a  refusal  shall  be  answered  by  an  immediate  separa- 
tion from  her  husband.7 '; 

"  Let  me,  in  this  demand, "  cried  she,  turning  with  collected 
firmness  to  Wallace,  "  satisfy  the  will  of  Edward.  It  is  only 
to  purchase  my  continuance  with  you.  Trust  me,  noblest  of 
men,  I  should  be  unworthy  of  the  name  you  have  given  me 
could  I  sully  it  in  my  person  by  one  debasing  word  or  action 
to  the  author  of  all  our  ills."  —  "  Ah,  my  Helen ! "  replied 
he,  "  what  is  it  you  ask  ?  Am  I  to  live  to  see  a  repetition  of 
the  horrors  of  Ellerslie  ?  "  — "  No,  on  my  life,"  answered 
Gloucester ;  "  in  this  instance  I  would  pledge  my  soul  for  King 
Edward's  manhood.  His  ambition  might  lead  him  to  trample 
on  all  men,  but  still  for  woman  he  feels  as  becomes  a  man  and 
a  knight." 

Helen  renewed  her  supplications,  and  Wallace,  aware  that 
should  he  withhold  her  attendance,  his  implacable  adversary, 
however  he  might  spare  her  personal  injury  would  not  forbear 
wounding  her  to  the  soul  by  tearing  her  from  him,  gave  an 
unwilling  consent  to  what  might  seem  a  submission  on  his 
part  to  an  authority  he  had  shed  his  blood  to  oppose..  "  But 
not  in  these  garments,  "  said  he.  "  She  must  be  habited  as 
becomes  her  sex  and  her  own  delicacy." 

Anticipating  this  propriety,  Gloucester  had  imparted  the 
circumstance  to  his  countess,  and  she  had  sent  a  casket, 
which  the  earl  himself  now  brought  in  from  the  passage. 
Helen  retired  to  the  inner  cell,  and  hastily  arraying  herself  in 
the  first  suit  that  presented  itself,  reappeared  in  female  ap- 
parel, and  wrapped  in  a  long  veil.  As  Gloucester  took  her 
hand  to  lead  her  forth,  Wallace  clasped  the  other  in  his. 
"  Kemernber,  my  Helen,"  cried  he,  "  that  on  no  terms  but  un- 
trammelled freedom  of  soul  will  your  Wallace  accept  of  life. 
This  will  not  be  granted  by  the  man  to  whom  you  go ;  there- 
fore, speak  and  act  in  his  presence  as  if  I  were  already  be- 
yond the  skies." 

Had  this  faithful  friend,  now  his  almost  adoring  wife,  left 
his  side  with  more  sanguine  hopes,  how  grievously  would  they 
have  been  blasted ! 

After  an  absence  of  two  hours  she  returned  to  the  dungeon 
of  Wallace,  and  as  her  trembling  form  was  clasped  in  his 
VOL.  II.  — 20 


306  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

arms,  she  exclaimed,  in  a  passion  of  tears,  "  Here  will  I  live ! 
Here  will  I  die  !  They  may  sever  my  soul  from  my  body,  but 
never  again  part  me  from  this  dear  bosom ! " 

"  Never,  never,  my  Helen  ! "  said  he,  reading  her  conference 
with  the  king  in  the  wild  terror  of  its  effects.  Her  senses 
seemed  fearfully  disordered.  While  she  clung  to  him,  and 
muttered  sentences  of  an  incoherency  that  shook  him  to  the 
soul,  he  cast  a  look  of  such  expressive  inquiry  upon  Gloucester, 
that  the  earl  could  only  answer  by  hastily  putting  his  hand 
on  his  face  to  hide  his  emotion.  At  last,  the  tears  she  shed 
appeared  to  relieve  the  excess  of  her  agonies,  and  she  gradu. 
ally  sunk  into  an  awful  calm.  Then  rising  from  her  husband's 
arms,  she  seated  herself  on  his  stony  couch,  and  said  in  a  firm 
voice,  "  Earl,  I  can  now  bear  to  hear  you  repeat  the  last  de^ 
cision  of  the  King  of  England." 

Though  not  absolutely  present  at  the  interview  between  his 
sovereign  and  Lady  Helen,  from  the  anteroom  Gloucester  had 
heard  all  that  passed,  and  he  now  briefly  confessed  to  Wallace 
that  he  had  too  truly  appreciated  the  pretended  conciliation  of 
the  king.  Edward's  proposals  to  Helen  were  as  artfully 
couched  as  deceptive  in  their  design.  Their  issue  was  to 
make  Wallace  his  slave,  or  to  hold  him  his  victim.  In  his 
conference  with  her,  he  addressed  the  vanity  of  an  ambitious 
woman ;  then  all  the  affections  of  a  devoted  heart ;  he  en- 
forced his  arguments  with  persuasions  to  allure  and  threats 
to  compel  obedience.  In  the  last,  he  called  up  every  image 
to  appal  the  soul  of  Helen ;  but,  steadfast  in  the  principles  of 
her  lord,  while  ready  to  sink  under  the  menaced  horrors  of  his 
fate,  she  summoned  all  her  strength  to  give  utterance  to  her 
last  reply. 

"  Mortal  distinctions,  King  of  England,"  cried  she,  "  cannot 
bribe  the  wife  of  Sir  William  Wallace  to  betray  his  virtues. 
His  life  is  dear  to  me,  but  his  immaculate  faith  to  his  God 
and  his  lawful  prince  are  dearer.  I  can  see  him  die,  and 
live  —  for  I  shall  join  him  triumphant  in  heaven;  but  to 
behold  him  dishonor  himself,  to  counsel  him  so  to  do,  is  be- 
yond my  power  —  I  should  expire  with  grief  in  the  shameful 
moment." 

The  indignation  of  the  king  at  this  answer  was  too  oppres- 
sive of  the  tender  nature  of  Lady  Helen  for  Gloucester  to 
venture  repeating  it  to  her  husband,  and,  while  she  turned 
deadly  pale  at  the  recollection,  Wallace,  exulting  in  her  con- 
duct, pressed  her  hand  silently,  but  fervently,  to  his  lips. 

The  earl  resumed,  but,  observing  the  reawakened  agonies  of 


THE    STATE    DUNGEON.  307 

her  mind  in  her  too  expressive  countenance,  he  strove  to 
soften  the  blow  he  must  inflict  in  the  remainder  of  his  nar- 
rative. 

"Dearest  lady,"  said  he,  rather  addressing  her  than  Wal- 
lace; "  to  convince  your  suffering  spirit  that  no  earthly  means 
have  been  left  unessayed  to  change  the  unjust  purpose  of  the 
king,  know  that  when  he  quitted  you  I  left  in  his  presence 
the  queen  and  my  wife,  both  weeping  tears  of  disappoint- 
ment. On  the  moment  when  I  found  that  arguments  could 
no  longer  avail,  I  implored  him,  by  every  consideration  of  God 
and  man,  to  redeem  his  honor,  sacrificed  by  the  unjust  decree 
pronounced  on  Sir  William  Wallace.  My  entreaties  were  re- 
pulsed with  anger,  for  the  sudden  entrance  of  Lord  Athol, 
with  fresh  fuel  to  his  flame,  so  confirmed  his  direful  resolu- 
tion, that,  desperate  for  my  friend,  I  threw  myself  on  my 
knees.  The  queen,  and  then  my  wife,  both  prostrate  at  his 
feet,  enforced  my  suit,  but  all  in  vain ;  his  heart  seemed  hard- 
ened by  our  earnestness,  and  his  answer,  while  it  put  us  to 
silence,  granted  Wallace  a  triumph  even  in  his  dungeon. 
1  Cease ! 7  cried  the  king.  '  Wallace  and  I  have  now  come  to  that 
issue  where  one  must  fall.  I  shall  use  my  advantage,  though 
I  should  walk  over  the  necks  of  half  my  kindred  to  accom- 
plish his  fate.  I  can  find  no  security  on  my  throne,  no 
peace  in  my  bed,  until  I  know  that  he,  my  direst  enemy,  is 
no  more.7 " 

"Sorry  am  I,  generous  Gloucester,"  interrupted  Wallace, 
"that  for  my  life  you  have  stooped  your  knee  to  one  so 
unworthy  of  your  nobleness.  Let,  then,  his  tyranny  take  its 
course.  But  its  shaft  will  not  reach  the  soul  his  unkingly 
spirit  hopes  to  wound.  The  bitterness  of  death  was  past 
when  I  quitted  Scotland.  And  for  this  body,  he  may  dis= 
honor  it,  mangle  its  limbs,  but  William  Wallace  may  then 
be  far  beyond  his  reach."  Gloucester  gazed  on  him,  doubting 
the  expression  of  his  countenance.  It  was  calm,  but  pale 
even  to  a  marble  hue.  "  Surely,"  said  he,  "  my  unconquered 
friend  will  not  now  be  forced  to  self-violence  ? "  — "  God 
forbid  ! "  returned  Wallace ;  "  suspect  me  not  of  such  base 
vassalage  to  this  poor  tabernacle  of  clay.  Did  I  believe  it 
my  Father's  will  that  I  should  die  at  every  pore,  I  would 
submit,  for  so  his  immaculate  Son  laid  down  his  life  for  a 
rebellious  world.  And  is  a  servant  greater  than  his  master, 
that  I  should  say,  exempt  me  from  this  trial  ?  No,  I  await 
his  summons ;  but  he  strengthens  my  soul  by  an  assurance 
I  feel  here,"  added  Wallace,  laying  his  hand  on  his  breast, 


308  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

"that  the  cord  of  Edward  shall  never  make  my  free-born 
Scottish  neck  feel  its  degrading  touch."  His  pale  "cheek  was 
now  luminous  with  a  bright  smile,  as  he  pressed  his  swelling 
heart. 

With  reawakened  horror  Helen  listened  to  the  words  of 
Wallace,  which  referred  to  the  last  outrage  to  be  committed 
on  his  sacred  remains.  She  recalled  the  corresponding  threats 
of  the  king,  and  again  losing  self-possession,  starting  wildly 
up,  exclaimed,  "  And  is  there  no  humanity  in  that  ruthless 
man  ?  Oh ! "  cried  she,  tearing  her  eyes  from  the  beloved 
form  on  which  it  had  been  such  bliss  to  gaze,  "let  the  sacri- 
fice of  my  life  be  offered  to  this  cruel  king  to  save  from 
indignity  "  —  She  could  add  no  more,  but  dropped  half  life- 
less on  the  arm  of  Wallace. 

Gloucester  understood  the  object  of  such  anguished  solici- 
tude, and  while  Wallace  again  seated  her,  he  revived  her  by 
a  protestation  that  the  clause  she  so  fearfully  deprecated  had 
been  repealed  by  Edward.  But  the  good  earl  blushed  as  he 
spoke,  for  in  this  instance  he  said  what  was  not  the  truth. 
Far  different  had  been  the  issue  of  all  his  attempts  at  mitiga- 
tion. The  arrival  of  Athol  from  Scotland  with  advices  from 
the  Countess  of  Strathearn  that  Lady  Helen  Mar  had  fled 
southward  to  raise  an  insurrection  in  favor  of  V/allace,  and 
that  Lord  Bothwell  had  gone  to  France  to  move  Philip  to 
embrace  the  same  cause,  gave  Edward  so  apt  an  excuse  for 
giving  full  way  to  his  hatred  against  the  Scottish  chief,  that 
he  pronounced  an  order  for  the  immediate  and  unrestricted 
execution  of  his  sentence.  Artifice,  to  mislead  the  French 
ambassadors  with  an  idea  that  he  was  desirous  to  accord  with 
their  royal  master's  wish,  had  been  the  sole  foundation  of  his 
proposals  to  Wallace.  And  his  interview  with  Lady  Helen, 
though  so  intemperately  conducted,  was  dictated  by  the  same 
subtle  policy. 

When  Gloucester  found  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  any 
further  respite  from  the  murderous  decree,  he  attempted  to 
prevail  for  the  remission  of  the  last  clause,  which  ordered 
that  his  friend's  noble  body  should  be  dismembered,  and  his 
limbs  sent,  as  terrors  to  rebellion,  to  the  four  capital  fortresses 
of  Scotland.  Edward  spurned  at  this  petition  with  even  more 
acrimony  than  he  had  done  the  prayer  for  his  victim's  life,  and 
Gloucester,  then  starting  from  his  knee,  in  a  burst  of  honest 
indignation  exclaimed,  "O  king,  remember  what  is  done  by 
thee  this  day !  Kefusing  to  give  righteous  judgment  in  favor 
of  one  who  prefers  virtue  to  a  crown  and  life !  As  insincere, 


THE    STATE    DUNGEON.  309 

as  secret,  have  been  your  last  conditions  with  him,  but  they 
will  be  revealed  when  the  great  Judge  that  searcheth  all  men's 
hearts  shall  cause  thee  to  answer  for  this  matter  at  the  dread- 
ful day  of  universal  doom.  Thou  hast  now  given  sentence  on 
a  patriot  and  a  prince,  and  then  shall  judgment  be  given  on 
thee ! "  ' 

"  Dangerous,  indeed,  is  his  rebellious  spirit,"  cried  Edward, 
in  almost  speechless  wrath,  "  since  it  affects  even  the  duty  of 
my  own  house.  Gloucester,  leave  my  presence,  and  on  pain 
of  your  own  death  dare  not  to  approach  me  till  I  send  for 
you  to  see  this  rebel's  head  on  London  Bridge." 

To  disappoint  the  revengeful  monarch  of  at  least  this 
object  of  his  malice,  Gloucester  was  now  resolved,  and  impart- 
ing his  wishes  to  the  warden  of  the  Tower,  who  was  his  trusty 
friend,  he  laid  a  plan  accordingly. 

Helen  had  believed  his  declaration  to  her,  and  bowed  her 
head,  in  sign  that  she  was  satisfied  with  his  zeal.  The  earl, 
addressing  Wallace,  continued,  "  Could  I  have  purchased  thy 
life,  thou  preserver  of  mine !  with  the  forfeiture  of  all  I  pos- 
sess, I  should  have  rejoiced  in  the  exchange.  But,  as  that 
may  not  be,  is  there  aught  in  the  world  which  I  can  do  to 
administer  to  thy  wishes  ?  " 

"  Generous  Gloucester,"  exclaimed  Wallace,  "  how  un- 
wearied has  been  your  friendship !  But  I  shall  not  tax  it 
much  farther.  I  was  writing  my  last  wishes  when  this  angel 
entered  my  apartment ;  she  will  now  be  the  voice  of  William 
Wallace  to  his  friends.  But  still  I  must  make  one  request  to 
you  —  one  which  I  trust  will  not  be  out  of  your  power.  Let 
this  heart,  ever  faithful  to  Scotland,  be  at  leas?  buried  in  its 
native  country.  When  I  cease  to  breathe,  give  it  to  Helen, 
and  she  will  mingle  it  with  the  sacred  dust  of  those  I  love. 
For  herself,  dear  Gloucester,  ah !  guard  the  vestal  purity  and 
life  of  my  best  beloved ;  for  there  are  those  who,  when  I  am 
gone,  may  threaten  both." 

Gloucester,  who  knew  that  in  this  apprehension  Wallace 
meant  the  Lords  Soulis  and  de  Valence,  pledged  himself  for 
the  performance  of  his  first  request,  and  for  the  second,  he 
assured  him  he  would  protect  Helen  as  a  sister.  But  she, 
regardless  of  all  other  evils  than  that  of  being  severed  from 
her  dearest  and  best  friend,  exclaimed  in  bitter  sorrow, 
'•  Wherever  I  am,  still,  and  forever,  shall  all  of  Wallace  that 
remains  on  earth  be  with  me.  He  gave  himself  to  me,  and  no 
mortal  power  shall  divide  us." 

1  This  speech  is  almost  verbatim  from  one  of  our  old  historians.  —  (1809.) 


310  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Gloucester  could  not  reply  before  the  voice  of  the  warden, 
calling  to  him  that  the  hour  of  shutting  the  gates  was  arrived, 
compelled  him  to  bid  his  friend  farewell.  He  grasped  the  hand 
of  Wallace  with  a  strong  emotion,  for  he  knew  that  the  next 
time  he  should  meet  him  would  be  on  the  scaffold,  During 
the  moments  of  this  parting,  Helen,  with  her  hands  clasped  on 
her  knees,  and  her  eyes  bent  downwards,  inwardly  and  ear- 
nestly invoked  the  Almighty  to  endow  her  with  fortitude  to 
bear  the  horrors  she  was  to  witness,  that  she  might  not,  by  her 
agonies,  add  to  the  tortures  of  Wallace. 

The  cheering  voice  that  was  ever  music  to  her  ears  recalled 
her  from  this  devout  abstraction.  He  laid  his  hand  on  hers, 
and  gazing  on  her  with  tender  pity,  held  such  sweet  discourse 
with  her  on  the  approaching  end  of  all  his  troubles,  of  his 
everlasting  happiness,  where  "all  tears  are  dried  away,"  that  she 
listened,  and  wept,  and  even  smiled.  "  Yes,"  added  he, "  a  little 
while  and  my  virgin  bride  shall  give  me  her  dear  embrace  in 
heaven ;  angels  will  participate  in  our  joy,  and  my  Marion's 
grateful  spirit  join  the  blest  communion.  She  died  to  pre- 
serve my  life.  You  suffered  a  living  death  to  maintain  my 
honor.  Can  I  then  divide  ye,  noblest  of  created  beings,  in  my 
soul  ?  Take,  then,  my  heart's  kiss,  dear  Helen,  thy  Wallace's 
last  earthly  kiss."  She  bent  towards  him  and  fixed  her  lips 
to  his.  It  was  the  first  time  they  had  met ;  his  parting  words 
still  hung  on  them,  and  an  icy  cold  ran  through  all  her  veins. 
She  felt  his  heart  beat  heavily  against  hers  as  he  said,  "  I  have 
not  many  hours  to  be  with  thee,  and  yet  a  strange  lethargy 
overpowers  my^  senses  ;  but  I  shall  speak  to  thee  again."  He 
looked  on  her  as  he  spoke  with  such  a  glance  of  holy  love,  that 
not  doubting  he  was  now  bidding  her  indeed  his  last  farewell, 
that  he  was  to  pass  from  this  sleep  out  of  the  power  of  man, 
she  pressed  his  hand  without  a  word,  and,  as  he  dropped  his 
head  back  upon  his  straw  pillow,  with  an  awed  spirit  she  saw 
him  sink  to  profound  repose. 


TOWER    HILL.  311 

CHAPTER  LXXXIY. 

TOWER    HILL. 

LONG  and  silently  had  she  watched  his  rest.  So  gentle 
was  his  breath  that  he  scarcely  seemed  to  breathe  ;  and  often 
during  her  sad  -vigils  did  she  stoop  her  cheek  to  feel  the  res- 
piration which  might  still  bear  witness  that  his  outraged 
spirit  was  yet  fettered  to  earth.  She  tremblingly  placed  her 
hand  on  his  heart,  and  still  its  warm  beats  spake  comfort  to 
hers.  The  soul  of  Wallace,  as  well  as  his  beloved  body,  was 
yet  clasped  in  her  arms.  "  The  arms  of  a  sister  enfold  thee," 
murmured  she  to  herself;  "they  would  gladly  bear  thee  up  to 
lay  thee  on  the  bosom  of  thy  martyred  wife,  and  there,  how 
wouldst  thou  smile  upon  and  bless  me  !  And  shall  we  not  meet 
so  before  the  throne  of  Him  whose  name  is  Truth  ?  " 

The  first  rays  of  the  dawn  shone  upon  his  peaceful  face 
just  as  the  door  opened  and  a  priest  appeared.  He  held  in  his 
hands  the  sacred  Host  and  the  golden  dove,  for  performing  the 
rites  of  the  dying.  At  this  sight,  the  harbinger  of  a  fearful 
doom,  the  fortitude  of  Helen  forsook  her,  and,  throwing  her 
arms  frantically  over  the  sleeping  Wallace,  she  exclaimed, 
"  He  is  dead  !  his  sacrament  is  now  with  the  Lord  of  Mercy ! " 
Her  voice  awakened  Wallace.  He  started  from  his  position, 
and  Helen,  seeing  with  a  wild  sort  of  disappointment  that  he 
whose  gliding  to  death  in  his  sleep  she  had  even  so  lately  dep- 
recated, now  indeed  lived  to  mount  the  scaffold,  in  unutterable 
horror  fell  back  with  a  heavy  groan. 

Wallace  accosted  the  priest  with  a  reverential  welcome,  and 
then  turning  to  Helen,  tenderly  whispered  her  :  "  My  Helen, 
in  this  moment  of  my  last  on  earth,  oh,  engrave  on  thy  heart, 
that,  in  the  sacred  words  of  the  patriarch  of  Israel,  /  remember' 
thee  in  the  kindness  of  thy  youth ;  in  the  love  of  thy  desolate 
espousals  to  me,  when  thou  earnest  after  me  into  the  wilderness, 
into  a  land  that  thou  didst  not  know,  and  comforted  me.  And 
shalt  thou  not,  my  soul's  bride,  be  sacred  unto  our  Lord,  —  the 
Lord  of  the  widow  and  the  orphan  ?  To  him  I  commit 
thee,  in  steadfast  faith  that  he  will  never  forsake  thee.  Then, 
oh,  dearest  part  of  myself  !  let  not  the  completion  of  my  fate 
shake  your  dependence  on  the  only  True  and  Just.  Rejoice 
that  Wallace  has  been  deemed  worthy  to  die  for  his  having 
done  his  duty.  And  what  is  death,  ray  Helen,  that  we  should 
shun  it,  even  to  rebelling  against  the  Lord  of  life  ?  Is  it  not 


312  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

the  door  which  opens  to  us  immortality  ?  and  in  that  blest 
moment  who  will  regret  that  he  passed  through  it  in  the 
bloom  of  his  years  ?  Come,  then,  sister  of  my  soul,  and  share 
with  thy  Wallace  the  Last  Supper  of  his  Lord,  —  the  pledge  of 
the  happy  eternity  to  which,  by  his  grace,  I  now  ascend." 

Helen,  conscience-struck,  and  reawakened  to  holy  confidence 
by  the  heavenly  composure  of  his  manner,  obeyed  the  impulse 
of  his  hand,  and  they  both  knelt  before  the  minister  of  peace. 
While  the  sacred  rite  proceeded,  it  seemed  the  indissoluble 
union  of  Helen's  spirit  with  that  of  Wallace.  "  My  life  will 
expire  with  his ! "  was  her  secret  response  to  the  venerable 
man's  exhortation  to  the  anticipated  passing  soul,  and  when 
he  sealed  Wallace  with  the  holy  cross  under  the  last  unction, 
as  one  who  believed  herself  standing  on  the  brink  of  eternity 
she  longed  to  share  also  that  mark  of  death.  At  that  moment 
the  dismal  toll  of  a  bell  sounded  from  the  top  of  the  tower. 
The  heart  of  Helen  paused.  The  warden  and  his  train  en- 
tered. "  I  will  follow  him,"  cried  she,  starting  from  her  knees, 
"  into  the  grave  itself  !  " 

What  was  said,  what  was  done,  she  knew  not  till  she  found 
herself  on  the  scaffold  upheld  by  the  arm  of  Gloucester.  Wal- 
lace stood  before  her  with  his  hands  bound  across  and  his 
noble  head  uncovered.  His  eyes  were  turned  upwards  with  a 
martyr's  confidence  in  the  Power  he  served.  A  silence  as  of 
some  desert  waste  reigned  throughout  the  thousands  who 
stood  below.  The  executioner  approached  to  throw  the  rope 
over  the  neck  of  his  victim.  At  this  sight,  Helen,  with  a  cry 
that  was  reechoed  by  the  compassionate  spectators,  rushed  to 
his  bosom.  Wallace,  with  a  mighty  strength,  burst  the  bands 
asunder  which  confined  his  arms,  and  clasping  her  to  him  with 
a  force  that  seemed  to  make  her  touch  his  very  heart,  his 
breast  heaved  as  if  his  soul  were  breaking  from  its  outraged 
tenement,  and,  while  his  head  sunk  on  her  neck,  he  exclaimed 
in  a  low  and  interrupted  voice,  "  My  prayer  is  heard  !  — - 
Helen,  life's  cord  is  cut  by  God's  own  hand !  —  May  he  pre- 
serve my  country,  and,  —  oh,  trust  from  my  youth  !  "  He 
stopped  —  he  fell  —  and  with  the  shock  the  hastily  erected 
scaffold  shook  to  its  foundation.  The  pause  was  dreadful. 

The  executioner  approached  the  prostrate  chief.  Helen  was 
still  locked  close  in  his  arms.  The  man  stooped  to  raise  his 
victim,  but  the  attempt  was  beyond  his  strength.  In  vain  he 
called  on  him,  on  Helen,  to  separate,  and  cease  from  delaying 
the  execution  of  the  law.  No  voice  replied,  no  motion 
Answered  his  loud  remonstrance.  Gloucester,  with  an  agita- 


THE  WARDEN'S  APARTMENTS.       313 

tion  which  hardly  allowed  him  to  speak  or  move,  remembered 
the  words  of  Wallace,  "  that  the  rope  of  Edward  would  never 
sully  his  animate  body,"  and,  bending  to  his  friend,  he  spoke ; 
but  all  was  silent  there.  He  raised  the  chieftain's  head,  and 
looking  on  his  face  found  indeed  the  indisputable  stamp  of 
death.  "  There,"  cried  he,  in  a  burst  of  grief,  and  letting  it 
fall  again  upon  the  insensible  bosom  of  Helen,  —  "  there  broke 
the  noblest  heart  that  ever  beat  in  the  breast  of  man ! " 

The  priests,  the  executioners,  crowded  around  him  at  this 
declaration.  But,  while  giving  a  command  in  a  low  tone  to 
the  warden,  he  took  the  motionless  Helen  in  his  arms,  and 
leaving  the  astonished  group  round  the  noble  dead,  carried  her 
from  the  scaffold  back  into  the  Tower.1 


CHAPTER  LXXXV. 
THE  WARDEN'S  APARTMENTS. 

ON  the  evening  of  the  fatal  day  in  which  the  sun  of 
William  Wallace  had  set  forever  on  his  country,  the  Earl 
of  Gloucester  was  imparting  to  the  warden  of  'the  Tower  his 
last  directions  respecting  the  sacred  remains,  when  the  door 
of  the  chamber  suddenly  opened  and  a  file  of  soldiers  entered. 
A  man  in  armor,  with  his  visor  closed,  was  in  the  midst  of 
them.  The  captain  of  the  band  told  the  warden  that  the  per- 
son before  him  had  behaved  in  a  most  seditious  manner.  He 
first  demanded  admittance  into  the  Tower,  then,  on  the 
sentinel  making  answer  that,  in  consequence  of  the  recent 
execution  of  the  Scottish  chief,  orders  had  been  given  "to 
allow  no  strangers  to  approach  the  gates  till  the  following 
morning,"  he,  the  prisoner,  burst  into  a  passionate  emotion, 
uttering  such  threats  against  the  King  of  England  that  the 
captain  thought  it  his  duty  to  have  him  seized  and  brought 
before  the  warden. 

On  the  entrance  of  the  soldiers  Gloucester  had  retired  into 
the  shadow  of  the  room.  He  turned  round  on  hearing  these 
particulars.  When  tne  captain  ceased  speaking  the  stranger 
fearlessly  threw  up  his  visor  and  exclaimed,  "  Take  me  not  to 
your  warden  alone,  but  to  your  king.  Let  me  pierce  his  con- 
science with  his  infamy.  Would  it  were  to  stab  him  ere  I  die  ! " 

1  The  last  words  of  Wallace  were  from  the  71st  Psalm  —  •«  My  trust  from  my  youth, 
O  Lord  God  thou  art  my  hope  unto  the  end." 


314  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

In  this  frantic  adjuration  Gloucester  discovered  the  gallant 
Bruce.  And  hastening  towards  him  to  prevent  his  apparently 
determined  exposure  of  himself,  with  a  few  words  he  dis- 
missed the  officer  and  his  guard,  and  then  turning  to  the 
warden,  "  Sir  Edward,"  said  he,  '*  this  stranger  is  not  less  my 
friend  than  he  that  was  Sir  William  Wallace."  —  "  Then  far 
be  it  from  me,  earl,  to  denounce  him  to  our  enraged  monarch. 
I  have  seen  enough  of  noble  blood  shed  already.  And  though 
we,  the  subjects  of  King  Edward,  may  not  call  your  late  friend 
a  martyr,  yet  we  must  think  his  country  honored  in  so  steady 
a  patriot,  and  may  surely  wish  we  had  many  the  like  in  our 
own."  '  With  these  words  the  worthy  old  knight  bowed  and 
withdrew. 

Bruce,  who  had  hardly  heard  the  observation  of  the  warden, 
on  his  departure  turned  upon  the  earl,  and,  with  a  bursting 
heart,  exclaimed,  "  Tell  me,  is  it  true  ?  Am  I  so  lost  a  wretch 
as  to  be  deprived  of  my  best,  my  dearest  friend  ?  And  is  it, 
as  I  am  told,  that  every  infernal  rigor  of  the  sentence  has 
been  executed  on  that  brave  and  breathless  body  ?  Answer 
me  to  the  fact,,  that  I  may  speedily  take  my  course." 
Alarmed  at  the  direful  expression  of  his  countenance,  with  a 
quivering  lip,  but  in  silence,  Gloucester  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
arm.  Bruce,  too,  well  understood  what  he  durst  not  speak, 
and,  shaking  it  off  frantically,  "  I  have  no  friend ! "  cried  lie. 
"  Wallace !  my  dauntless,  my  only  Wallace,  thou  art  rifled 
from  me !  And  shall  I  have  fellowship  with  these  ?  No  ;  all 
mankind  are  my  enemies,  and  soon  will  I  leave  their  detested 
sojourn!"  Gloucester  attempted  to  interrupt  him,  but  he 
broke  out  afresh,  and  with  redoubled  violence.  "  And  you, 
earl,"  cried  he,  "lived  in  this  realm  and  suffered  such  a 
sacrilege  on  God's  most  perfect  work !  Ungrateful,  worthless 
man !  fill  up  the  measure  of  your  baseness ;  deliver  me  to 
Edward,  and  let  me  brave  him  to  his  face.  Oh,  let  me  die, 
covered  with  the  blood  of  thy  enemies,  my  murdered  Wallace, 
my  more  than  brother  !  that  shall  be  the  royal  robe  thy  Bruce 
will  bring  to  thee  !  " 

Gloucester  stood  in  dignified  forbearance  under  the  invec- 
tives and  stormy  grief  of  the  Scottish  prince,  but  when  ex- 
hausted nature  seemed  to  take  rest  in  momentary  silence,  he 
approached  him.  Bruce  cast  on  him  a  lurid  glance  of  suspi- 
cion. " Leave  me,"  cried  he ;  "I  hate  the  whole  world,  and 
you  the  worst  in  it,  for  you  might  have  saved  him,  and  you  did 

iThe  sentiment  witn  regard  to  the  Scottish  hero  is  given  in  Speed's  History.— 
(1809.) 


THE    WARDEN'S    APARTMENTS.  315 

not ;  you  might  have  preserved  his  sacred  limbs  from  being 
made  the  gazing-stock  of  traitors,  and  you  did  not.  Away 
from  me,  apt  son  of  a  tyrant,  lest  I  tear  you  in  piecemeal ! "  — 
"  By  the  heroic  spirit  of  him  whom  this  outrage  on  me  dis- 
honors, hear  my  answer,  Bruce.  And,  if  not  on  this  spot,  let 
me  then  exculpate  myself  by  the  side  of  his  body,  yet  unin- 
vaded  by  a  sacrilegious  touch."  —  "  How  ?  "  interrupted  Bruce. 
Gloucester  continued,  "  All  that  was  mortal  in  our  friend,  now 
lies  in  a  distant  chamber  of  this  quadrangle.  When  I  could 
not  prevail  on  Edward,  either  by  entreaty  or  reproaches,  to 
remit  the  last  gloomy  vengeance  of  tyrants,  I  determined  to 
wrest  its  object  from  his  hands.  A  notorious  murderer  died 
yesterday  under  the  torture.  After  the  inanimate  corse  of  our 
friend  was  brought  into  this  house,  to  be  conveyed  to  the  scene 
of  its  last  horrors,  by  the  assistance  of  the  warden  the  male- 
factor's body  was  conveyed  here  also,  and  placed  oh  the 
traitor's  sledge,  in  the  stead  of  his  who  was  no  traitor ;  and  on 
that  murderer  most  justly  fell  the  rigor  of  so  dreadful  a 
sentence." 

The  whole  aspect  of  Bruce  changed  during  this  explanation, 
which  was  followed  by  a  brief  account  from  Gloucester  of 
their  friend's  heroic  sufferings  and  death.  "  Can  you  pardon 
my  reproaches  to  you  ?  "  cried  the  prince,  stretching  out  his 
hand.  "Forgive,  generous  Gloucester,  the  distraction  of  a 
severely  wounded  spirit."  This  pardon  was  immediately  ac- 
corded, and  Bruce  impetuously  added,  "  Lead  me  to  these  dear 
remains,  that  with  redoubled  certainty  I  may  strike  his  mur- 
derer's heart.  I  came  to  succor  him ;  I  now  stay  to  die,  —  but 
not  unrevenged." —  "I  will  lead  you,"  returned  the  earl, 
"  where  you  shall  learn  a  different  lesson.  His  soul  will  speak 
to  you  by  the  lips  of  his  bride,  now  watching  by  those  sacred 
relics.  Feeble  is  now  her  lamp  of  life,  but  a  saint's  vigilance 
keeps  it  burning,  till  it  may  expire  in  the  grave  with  him  she 
so  chastely  loved."  A  few  words  gave  Bruce  to  understand 
that  he  meant  Lady  Helen  Mar,  and  with  a  deepened  grief, 
when  he  heard  in  what  an  awful  hour  their  hands  were 
plighted,  he  followed  his  conductor  through  the  quadrangle. 

When  Gloucester  gently  opened  the  door,  which  contained 
the  remains  of  the  bravest  and  the  best,  Bruce  stood  for  a 
moment  on  the  threshold.  At  the  further  end  of  the  apart- 
ment, lit  by  a  solitary  taper,  lay  the  body  of  Wallace  on  a 
bier,  covered  with  a  soldier's  cloak.  Kneeling  by  its  side, 
with  her  head  on  its  bosom,  was  Helen.  Her  hair  hung  dis- 
ordered over  her  shoulders,  and  shrouded  with  its  dark  locks 


316  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

the  marble  features  of  her  beloved.  Bruce  scarcely  breathed. 
He  attempted  to  advance,  but  he  staggered  and  fell  against 
the  wall.  She  looked  up  at  the  noise,  but  her  momentary 
alarm  ceased  when  she  saw  Gloucester.  He  spoke  in  a  tender 
voice.  "Be  not  agitated,  lady,  but  here  is  the  Earl  of  Carrick." 

"  Nothing  can  agitate  me  more,"  replied  she,  turning  mourn- 
fully towards  the  prince,  who,  raised  from  his  momentary 
dizziness,  beheld  her  regarding  him  with  the  look  of  one 
already  an  inhabitant  of  the  grave.  —  "  Helen,"  faintly  artic- 
ulated Bruce,  "  I  come  to  share  your  sorrows,  and  to  avenge 
them."  —  ''Avenge  them!"  repeated  she,  after  a  pause,  "is 
there  aught  in  vengeance  that  can  awaken  life  in  these  cold 
veins  again  ?  Let  the  murderers  live  in  the  world  they  have 
made  a  desert,  by  the  destruction  of  its  brightest  glory,  —  and 
then,  our  home  will  be  his  tomb !  "  Again  she  bent  her  head 
upon  Wallace's  cold  breast,  and  seemed  to  forget  that  she  had 
been  spoken  to,  that  Bruce  was  present. 

"  May  I  not  look  on  him  ? "  cried  he,  grasping  her  hand. 
"  Oh,  Helen,  show  me  that  heroic  face  from  whose  beams  my 
heart  first  caught  the  fire  of  virtue ! "  She  moved,  and  the 
clay-hued  features  of  all  that  was  ever  perfect  in  manly 
beauty  met  his  sight.  But  the  bright  eyes  were  shut,  the 
radiance  of  his  smile  was  dimmed  in  death;  yet  still  that 
smile  was  there.  Bruce  precipitated  his  lips  to  his,  and 
sinking  on  his  knees  remained  in  a  silence  only  broken  by  his 
sighs. 

It  was  an  awful  and  a  heart-breaking  pause  ;  for  the  voice 
which  in  all  scenes  of  weal  or  woe  had  ever  mingled  sweetly 
with  theirs  was  silent.  Helen,  who  had  not  wept  since  the 
tremendous  hour  of  the  morning,  now  burst  into  an  agony  of 
tears,  and  the  vehemence  of  her  feelings  tearing  so  delicate  a 
frame  (now  rendered  weak  unto  death  by  a  consuming  sick- 
ness which  her  late  exertions  and  present  griefs  had  made 
seize  on  her  very  vitals),  seemed  to  threaten  the  immediate 
extinction  of  her  being.  Bruce,  aroused  by  her  smothered 
cries  as  she  lay,  almost  expiring,  upheld  by  Gloucester,  hur- 
ried to  her  side.  By  degrees  she  recovered  to  life  and  observ- 
ance, but  finding  herself  removed  from  the  bier,  she  sprung 
wildly  towards  it.  Bruce  caught  her  arm  to  support  her 
tottering  steps.  She  looked  steadfastly  at  him,  and  then  at 
the  motionless  body.  "  He  is  there,"  cried  she,  "  and  yet  he 
speaks  not!  He  soothes  not  my  grief  —  I  weep,  and  he  does 
not  comfort  me !  And  there  he  lies !  Oh,  Bruce,  can  this 
be  possible  ?  Do  I  really  see  him  dead  ?  And  what  is 


THE    WARDEN'S   APARTMENTS.  317 

death?"  added  she,  grasping  the  cold  hand  of  Wallace  to 
her  heart.  "  Didst  thou  not  tell  me  when  this  hand  pressed 
mine  and  blessed  me,  that  it  was  only  a  translation  from  grief 
to  joy?  And  is  it  not  so,  Bruce  ?  Behold  how  we  mourn, 
and  he  is  happy  !  I  will  obey  thee,  my  immortal  Wallace  ! " 
cried  she,  casting  her  arms  about  him.  "  I  will  obey  thee  and 
weep  no  more  ! " 

She  was  silent  and  calm.  And  Bruce,  kneeling  on  the 
opposite  side  of  his  friend,  listened,  without  interrupting  him, 
to  jhe  arguments  which  Gloucester  adduced  to  persuade  him 
to  abstain  from  discovering  himself  to  Edward,  or  even  utter- 
ing resentment  against  him  till  he  could  do  both  as  became 
the  man  for  whom  Wallace  had  sacrificed  so  much,  even  till 
he  was  king  of  Scotland.  "To  that  end,"  said  Gloucester, 
"  did  this  gallant  chieftain  live.  For  in  restoring  you  to  the 
people  of  Scotland  he  believed  he  was  setting  a  seal  to  their 
liberties  and  their  peace.  To  that  end  did  he  die,  arid  in 
the  direful  moment  uttered  prayers  for  your  establishment. 
Think,  then,  of  this,  and  let  him  not  look  down  from  his 
heavenly  dwelling  and  see  that  Bruce  despises  the  country  for 
which  he  bled ;  that  the  now  only  hope  of  Scotland  has  sacri- 
ficed himself,  in  a  moment  of  inconsiderate  revenge,  to  the 
cruel  hand  which  broke  his  dauntless  heart.77 

Bruce  did  not  oppose  this  counsel;  and  as  the  fumes  of 
passion  passed  away,  leaving  a  manly  sorrow  to  steady  his 
determination  of  revenge,  he  listened  with  approbation,  and 
finally  resolved,  whatever  violence  he  might  do  to  his  nature, 
not  to  allow  Edward  the  last  triumph  of  finding  him  in  his 
power. 

The  ear!7s  next  essay  was  with  Helen.  He  feared  that  a 
rumor  of  the  stranger's  indignation  at  the  late  execution,  and 
that  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  had  taken  him  in  charge,  might, 
when  associated  with  the  fact  of  the  widow  of  Sir  William 
Wallace  still  remaining  under  his  protection,  awaken  some 
dangerous  suspicion  and  direct  investigations  too  likely  to 
discover  the  imposition  he  had  put  on  the  executioners  of  the 
last  clause  in  his  royal  father's  most  iniquitous  sentence.  He 
therefore  explained  his  new  alarm  to  Helen,  and  conjured 
her,  if  she  would  yet  preserve  the  hallowed  remains  before 
her  from  any  chance  of  violence  (which  her  lingering  near 
them  might  induce  by  attracting  notice  to  her  movements), 
she  must  consent  immediately  to  leave  the  kingdom.  The 
valiant  and  ever-faithful  heart  of  Wallace  should  be  her 
companion,  and  an  English  captain  who  had  partaken  of  his 


318  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

clemency  at  Berwick  be  her  trusty  conductor  to  her  native 
land.  To  meet  every  objection,  he  added,  "Bruce  shall  be 
protected  by  me  with  strict  fidelity  till  some  safe  opportunity 
may  offer  for  his  bearing  to  Scotland  the  sacred  corpse, 
that  must  ever  be  considered  the  most  precious  relic  in  his 
country." 

"  As  Heaven  wills  the  trials  of  my  heart,"  returned  she,  "  so 
let  it  be  !  "  and  bending  her  aching  head  on  the  dear  pillow  of 
her  rest,  —  the  bosom,  which,  though  cold  and  deserted  by  its 
heavenly  inhabitant,  was  still  the  bosom  of  her  Wallace ;  the 
ravaged  temple  rendered  sacred  by  the  footsteps  of  a  god. 
For  had  not  virtue  and  the  soul  of  Wallace  dwelt  there  ?  and 
where  virtue  is,  there  abides  the  Spirit  of  the  Holy  One. 
With  these  thoughts  she  passed  the  remainder  of  the  night  in 
vigils,  and  they  were  not  less  devoutly  shared  by  the  chast- 
ened heart  of  the  prince  of  Scotland. 


CHAPTER   LXXXVI. 

HIGHGATE. 

THE  tidings  of  the  dreadful  vengeance  which  Edward  had 
taken  against  the  Scottish  nation,  by  pouring  all  his  wrath 
upon  the  head  of  Wallace,  struck  like  the  lightning  of  heaven 
through  the  souls  of  men.  [fTone  of  either  country  but  those 
in  the  confidence  of  Gloucester  knew  that  Heaven  had  snatched 
him  from  the  dishonor  of  so  vile  a  death.  The  English 
turned,  blushing,  from  each  other,  and  ventured  not  to 
breathe  the  name  of  a  man  whose  virtues  seemed  to  have  found 
a  sanctuary  for  his  fame  in  every  honest  heart.  But  when  the 
news  reached  Scotland  the  indignation  was  general.  All  envy- 
ings,  all  strifes,  were  forgotten  in  unqualified  resentment  of  the 
deed.  There  was  not  a  man  even  amongst  the  late  refractory 
chiefs,  excepting  the  Cummins  and  their  coadjutors,  Soulis 
and  Monteith,  who  really  had  believed  that  Edward  seriously 
meant  to  sentence  the  Scottish  patriot  to  a  severer  fate  than 
what  he  had  pronounced  against  his  rebellious  vassal,  the 
exiled  Baliol.  The  execution  of  Wallace,  whose  offence  could 
only  be  that  of  having  served  his  country  too  faithfully,  was 
therefore  so  unexpected,  that  on  the  first  promulgation  of  it,  so 
great  an  abhorrence  of  the  perp3trator  was  excited  in  every 
breast,  that  the  whole  country  rose  as  one  man,  threatening  to 


HIGHGATE.  319 

march  instantly  to  London,  and  sacrifice  the  tyrant  on  his 
throne. 

At  this  crisis,  when  the  mountains  of  the  north  seemed 
heaving  from  their  base  to  overwhelm  the  blood-stained  fields 
of  England,  every  heart  which  secretly  rejoiced  in  the  late 
sanguinary  event  quailed  within  its  possessor  as  it  tremblingly 
anticipated  the  consequences  of  the  fall  of  Wallace.  At  this 
instant,  when  the  furies  armed  every  clan  in  Scotland,  breath- 
ing forth  revenge  like  a  consuming  fire  before,  them,  John 
Cummin,  the  regent,  stood  aghast.  He  foresaw  his  own  down- 
fall in  this  reawakened  enthusiasm  respecting  the  man  whom 
his  treachery  had  been  the  first  means  of  betraying  to  his 
enemies.  Baffled  in  the  aim  of  his  ambition  by  the  very  means 
he  had  taken  to  effect  it,  Cummin  saw  no  alternative  but  to 
throw  himself  at  once  upon  the  bounty  of  England ;  and,  to 
this  purpose,  he  bethought  him  of  the  only  chance  of  preserv- 
ing the  power  of  Edward,  and  consequently  his  own,  in  Scot- 
land. Knowing  by  past  events  that  this  tempest  of  the  soul, 
excited  by  remorse  in  some  and  gratitude  in  others,  could  only 
be  maintained  to  any  conclusive  injury  to  England  by  a  royal 
hand,  and  that  that  hand  was  expected  to  be  Bruce's,  he  deter- 
mined at  once  that  the  prince  to  whom  he  had  sworn  fealty, 
and  to  whom  he  owed  his  present  elevation,  should  follow  the 
fate  of  his  friend.  By  the  spies  which  he  constantly  kept 
round  Hunting-tower,  he  was  apprised  that  Bruce  had  set  off 
towards  London  in  a  vessel  from  Dundee.  On  these  grounds 
he  sent  a  despatch  to  King  Edward  informing  him  that  destiny 
had  established  him  supreme  lord  of  Scotland,  for  now  its  sec- 
ond and  its  last  hope  had  put  himself  into  his  hands.  With 
this  intelligence  he  gave  a  particular  account  of  all  Bruce's 
proceedings  from  the  time  of  his  meeting  Wallace  in  France 
to  his  present  following  that  chief  to  London.  He  then  craved 
his  majesty's  pardon  for  having  been  betrayed  into  a  union 
with  such  conspirators,  and  repeated  his  hope  that  the  restitu- 
tion he  now  made  in  thus  showing  the  royal  hand  where  to 
find  its  last  opponent  would  give  full  conviction  of  his  peni- 
tence and  duty.  He  closed  his  letter  by  urging  the  king  to 
take  instant  and  effectual  measures  to  disable  Bruce  from 
disturbing  the  quiet  of  Scotland,  or  ever  again  disputing  his 
regal  claims. 

Gloucester  happened  to  be  in  the  presence  when  this  epistle 
was  delivered  in  and  read  by  his  majesty.  On  the  suit  of  his 
daughter,  Edward  had  been  reconciled  to  his  son-in-law ;  but 
when  he  showed  to  him  the  contents  of  Cummin's  letter,  with 


THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

a  suspicions  smile  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  In  case  you  should 
know  this  new  rebel'st  lurking-place,  presume  not  to  leave  this 
room  till  he  is  brought  before  me.  See  to  your  obedience, 
Ralph,  or  your  head  shall  follow  Wallace's." 

The  king  instantly  withdrew,  and  the  earl,  aware  that  search 
would  be  made  through  all  his  houses,  sought  in  his  own  mind 
for  some  expedient  to  apprise  Bruce  of  his  danger.  To  write 
in  the  presence  chamber  was  impossible;  to  deliver  a  message 
in  a  whisper  would  be  hazardous,  for  most  of  the  surrounding 
courtiers,  seeing  the  frown  with  which  the  king  had  left  the  apart- 
ment, marked  the  commands  he  gave  the  marshal,  "  Be  sure 
that  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  quits  not  this  room  till  I  return." 

In  the  confusion  of  his  thoughts,  the  earl  turned  his  eye  on 
Lord  Montgomery,  who  had  only  arrived  that  very  morning 
from  an  embassy  to  Spain.  He  had  heard  with  unutterable 
horror  the  fate  of  Wallace,  and  extending  his  interest  in  him 
to  those  whom  he  loved,  had  arranged  with  Gloucester  to  ac- 
company him  that  very  evening  to  pledge  his  friendship  to 
Bruce.  To  Montgomery,  then,  as  to  the  only  man  acquainted 
with  his  secret,  he  turned,  and  taking  his  spurs  off  his  feet 
and  pulling  out  a  purse  of  gold,  he  said  aloud  and  with  as  easy 
an  air  as  he  could  assume,  "  Here,  my  Lord  Montgomery,  as 
you  are  going  directly  to  Highgate  I  will  thank  you  to  call  at 
my  lodge,  put  these  spurs  and  this  purse  into  the  hands  of  the 
groom  we  spoke  of ;  tell  him  they  do  not  fit  me,  and  he  will 
know  what  use  to  make  of  them."  He  then  turned  negligently 
on  his  heel,  and  Montgomery  quitted  the  apartment. 

The  apprehension  of  this  young  lord  was  not  less  quick 
:han  the  invention  of  his  friend.  He  guessed  that  the  Scot- 
tish prince  was  betrayed,  and  to  render  his  escape  the  less 
likely  to  be  traced  —  the  ground  being  wet  and  liable  to  retain 
impression  —  before  he  went  to  the  lodge  he  dismounted  in  the 
adjoining  wood,  and  with  his  own  hands  reversed  the  iron  on 
the  feet  of  the  animal  he  had  provided  for  Bruce.  He  then 
proceeded  to  the  house  and  found  the  object  of  his  mission 
disguised  as  a  Carmelite  and  in  the  chapel  paying  his  vesper 
adorations  to  the  Almighty  Being  on  whom  his  whole  depend- 
ence hung.  Uninfluenced  by  the  robes  he  wore,  his  was  the 
devotion  of  the  soul,  and  not  unaptly  at  such  an  hour  came 
one  t6  deliver  him  from  a  danger  which,  unknown  to  himself, 
was  then  within  a  few  minutes  of  seizing  its  prey. 

Montgomery  entered,  and  being  instantly  recognized  by 
Bruce,  the  ingenuous  prince,  never  doubting  a  noble  heart, 
stretched  out  his  hand  to  him.  "I  take  it,"  returned  the 


SCO  TLAND.  —  D  UMFRIES.  321 

earl,  "  only  to  give  it  a  parting  grasp.  Behold  these  spurs 
and  purse  sent  to  you  by  Gloucester.  You  know  their  use. 
Without  further  observation  follow  me."  Montgomery  was 
thus  abrupt,  because  as  he  left  the  palace  he  had  heard  the 
marshal  give  orders  for  different  military  detachments  to 
search  every  residence  of  Gloucester  for  the  Earl  of  Carrick, 
and  he  did  not  doubt  that  the  party  despatched  to  Highgate 
were  now  mounting  the -hill. 

Bruce,  throwing  off  his  cassock  and  cowl,  again  appeared  in 
his  martial  garb,  and  after  bending  his  knee  for  a  moment  on 
the  chancel-stone  which  covered  the  remains  of  Wallace,  he 
followed  his  friend  from  the  chapel,  and  thence  through  a 
solitary  path  in  the  park  to  the  centre  of  the  wood.  Mont- 
gomery pointed  to  the  horse.  Bruce  grasped  the  hand  of  his 
faithful  conductor.  "  I  go,  Montgomery,"  said  he,  "  to  my 
kingdom.  But  its  crown  shall  never  clasp  my  brows  till  the 
remains  of  Wallace  return  to  their  country.  And  whether 
peace  or  the  sword  restore  them  to  Scotland,  still  shall  a 
king's,  a  brother's,  friendship  unite  my  heart  to  Gloucester 
and  to  you."  While  speaking  he  vaulted  into  his  saddle,  and, 
receiving  the  cordial  blessings  of  Montgomery,  touched  his 
good  steed  with  his  pointed  rowels  and  was  out  of  sight  in  an 
instant.1 


CHAPTEE  -  LXXXVII. 

SCOTLAND. DUMFRIES. 

ABOUT  the  hour  of  twilight,  on  the  tenth  day  after  Bruce 
had  cast  his  last  look  on  the  capital  of  England,  —  that  scene 
of  his  long  captivity  under  the  spell  of  delusion;  that  theatre 
of  his  family's  disgrace,  of  his  own  eternal  regrets,  —  he 
crossed  the  little  stream  which  marked  the  oft-contended 
barrier-land  of  the  two  kingdoms.  He  there  checked  the 
headlong  speed  of  his  horse,  and  having  alighted  to  give  it 
breath,  walked  by  its  side,  musing  on  the  different  feelings 
with  which  he  now  entered  Scotland,  from  the  buoyant  emo- 
tions with  which  he  had  sprung  on  its  shore  at  the  beginning 
of  the  year.  These  thoughts,  as  full  of  sorrow  as  of  hope, 
had  not  occupied  him  long  when  he  espied  a  man  in  the  Eed 

1  In  the  relation  of  this  incident,  Buchanan  names  Montgomery  as  the  friend  who 
apprised  Bruce  01  nis  danger.    Holinahed  attributes  it  to  Gloucester.    I  have  paid  due 
deference  to  both  authorities.  —  (1809.) 
VOL.  II.— 21 


322  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Cummin's  colors  speeding  towards  the  south.  He  guessed 
him  to  be  some  new  messenger  of  the  regent  to  Edward,  and 
throwing  himself  before  the  horse  caught  it  by  the  bridle, 
then  cooly  demanded  its  rider  to  deliver  to  him  the  despatches 
which  he  carried  to  the  King  of  England.  The  man  refused, 
and  striking  his  spurs  into  his  beast,  tried  to  trample  down 
his  assailant.  But  Bruce  was  not  to  be  put  from  his  aim. 
The  manner  of  the  Scot  convinced  him  that  his  suspicions 
were  right,  and  putting  forth  his  nervous  arm,  with  one  action 
he  pulled  the  messenger  from  his  saddle  and  laid  him  pros- 
trate on  the  ground.  Again  he  demanded  the  papers.  "  I  am 
your  prince,"  cried  he,  "and  by  the  allegiance  you  owe  to 
Robert  Bruce,  I  command  you  to  deliver  them  into  my  hands. 
Life  shall  be  your  reward,  immediate  death  the  punishment  of 
your  obstinacy." 

In  such  an  extremity  the  man  did  not  hesitate,  and  taking 
from  his  bosom  a  sealed  packet,  immediately  resigned  it. 
Bruce  ordered  him  to  stand  before  him  till  he  had  read  the 
contents.  Trembling  with  terror  of  this  formidable  freebooter 
(for  he  placed  no  belief  in  the  declaration  that  he  was  the 
prince  of  Scotland),  the  man  obeyed,  and  Bruce,  breaking  the 
seals,  found,  as  he  expected,  a  long  epistle  from  the  regent, 
urging  the  sanguinary  aim  of  his  communications.  He  reite- 
rated his  arguments  for  the  expediency  of  speedily  putting 
Robert  Bruce  to  death ;  he  represented  the  danger  that  there 
was  in  delay,  lest  a  man  so  royally  descended,  and  so  popular 
as  he  had  become  (since  it  was  now  publicly  understood  that 
he  had  already  fought  his  country's  battles  under  the  name  of 
Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville),  should  find  means  of  placing 
himself  at  the  head  of  so  many  zealots  in  his  favor.  These 
circumstances,  so  propitious  to  ambition,  and  now  adding  per- 
sonal revenge  to  his  former  boldness  and  policy,  would  at  this 
juncture  (should  he  arrive  in  Scotland)  turn  its  growing  coin- 
motions  to  the  most  decisive  uses  against  the  English  power. 
The  regent  concluded  with  saying  "  that  the  Lords  Loch-awe, 
Douglas,  and  Ruthven  were  come  down  from  the  Highlands 
with  a  multitudinous  army  to  drive  out  the  Southron  garri- 
sons, and  to  repossess  themselves  of  the  fortresses  of  Stirling 
and  Edinburgh ;  that  Lord  Bothwell  had  returned  from 
France,  with  the  real  Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville,  a  knight  of 
great  valiancy ;  and  that  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  after  having 
massacred  half  the  English  Castellans  in  the  border  counties, 
was  now  lying  at  Torthorald,  ready  to  commence  his  murder- 
ous reprisals  through  the  coasts  of  Galloway.  For  himself, 


SCOTLAND.  —DUMFRIES.  323 

Cummin  told  the  king  he  had  secretly  removed  to  the  Francis- 
can monastery  at  Dumfries,  where  he  should  most  anxiously 
await  his  majesty's  pardon  and  commands." 

Bruce  closed  the  packet.  To  prevent  his  discovery  being 
betrayed  ere  he  was  ready  to  act,  he  laid  his  sword  upon  the 
shoulder  of  the  man.  "  You  are  my  prisoner,"  said  he ;  "  but 
fear  not.  I  only  mean  to  hold  you  in  safety  till  your  master 
has  answered  for  his  treason."  The  messenger  thought, 
whoever  this  imperious  stranger  might  be,  that  he  saw  a  truth 
in  his  eyes  which  ratified  this  assurance,  and  without  opposi- 
tion he  walked  before  him  till  they  stopped  at  Torthorald. 

Night  had  closed  in  when  Bruce  sounded  his  bugle  under 
the  walls.  Kirkpatrick  answered  from  the  embrasure  over  the 
barbacan-gate  with  a  demand  of  who  desired  admittance. 
"  None,"  cried  he,  "  that  is  not  a  true  Scot  need  venture  his 
neck  within  these  towers.  "  —  "  'T  is  the  avenger  of  Sir  Will- 
iam Wallace,"  was  the  reply.  The  gates  flew  open  at  the 
words,  and  Kirkpatrick,  standing  in  the  archway  amid  a  blaze 
of  torches,  received  his  guest  with  a  brave  welcome. 

Bruce  spoke  no  more  till  he  entered  the  banqueting-hall. 
Three  other  knights  were  seated  by  the  table.  He  turned  to 
Kirkpatrick.  "  My  valiant  friend,"  said  he,  "  order  your  ser- 
vants to  take  charge  of  yon  Scot,"  pointing  to  the  messenger 
of  Cummin,  "  and,  till  I  command  his  release,  let  him  be 
treated  with  the  lenity  which  shall  ever  belong  to  a  prisoner 
of  Eobert  Bruce."  As  he  spoke  he  threw  up  his  visor,  and 
Kirkpatrick,  who  had  heard  that  the  supposed  De  Longueville 
was  his  rightful  prince,  now  recognized  the  well-known  feat- 
ures of  the  brave  foreigner  in  the  stranger  before  him.  Not 
doubting  the  verity  of  his  words,  he  bent  his  knee  with  the 
homage  due  to  his  king,  and  in  the  action  was  immediately 
followed  by  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell,  Sir  James  Lindsay,  and 
Adam  Fleming,  who  were  the  other  knights  present. 

"  I  come,"  cried  the  prince,  "  in  the  spirit  of  my  heart's 
sovereign  and  friend,  the  now  immortal  Wallace,  to  live  or  to 
die  with  you  in  the  defence  of  my  country's  liberties.  With 
such  assistance  as  yours,  his  invisible  coadjutors,  and  with  the 
blessing  of  Heaven  on  our  arms,  I  hope  to  redeem  Scotland 
from  the  disgrace  which  her  late  horrible  submission  to  the 
tyrant  has  fastened  on  her  name.  The  transgressions  of  my 
house  have  been  grievous,  but  that  last  deadly  sin  of  my 
people  called  for  an  expiation  awful  indeed.  And  it  came  in 
the  moment  of  guilt ;  in  their  crime  they  receive  punishment. 
They  broke  from  their  side  the  arm  which  alone  had  rescued 


324  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

them  from  their  enemies.  I  now  come  to  save  them  from 
themselves.  Their  having  permitted  the  sacrifice  of  the 
rights  of  my  family  was  the  first  injury  committed  on  the 
constitution,  and  it  prepared  a  path  for  the  ensuing  tyranny 
which  seized  upon  the  kingdom.  But  by  resuming  these 
rights,  which  is  now  my  firm  purpose,  I  open  to  you  a  way  to 
recover  our  hereditary  independence.  The  direful  scene  just 
acted  on  the  Tower-hill  of  London,  that  horrible  climax  of 
Scottish  treason,  must  convince  every  reasonable  mind  that 
all  the  late  misfortunes  of  our  country  have  proceeded  from 
the  base  jealousies  of  its  nobles.  There,  then,  let  them  die ; 
and  may  the  grave  of  Wallace  be  the  tomb  of  dissension ! 
Seeing  where  their  own  true  interests  point,  surely  the  brave 
chieftains  of  this  land  will  rally  round  their  lawful  prince, 
who  here  declares  he  knows  no  medium  between  death  and 
victory." 

The  spirit  with  which  this  address  was  pronounced,  the 
magnanimity  it  conveyed,  assisted  by  the  graces  of  his  youth 
and  noble  deportment,  struck  the  hearts  of  his  auditors,  and 
aroused  in  double  vigor  the  principles  of  resentment,  to  which 
the  first  tidings  of  their  heroic  countryman's  fate  had  given 
birth.  Kirkpatrick  needed  no  other  stimulus  than  his  almost 
idolatrous  memory  of  Wallace,  and  he  listened  with  an 
answering  ardor  to  Bruce's  exhortation.  The  prince  next 
disclosed  to  his  now  zealously  pledged  friends  the  particulars 
of  the  Red  Cummin's  treachery.  "  He  now  lies  at  Dumfries," 
cried  Kirkpatrick ;  "  thither,  then,  let  us  go,  and  confront  him 
with  his  treason.  When  falsehood  is  to  be  confounded,  it  is 
best  to  grapple  with  the  sorceress  in  the  moment  of  detec- 
tion ;  should  we  hesitate,  she  may  elude  our  grasp." 

Dumfries  was  only  a  few  miles  distant,  and  they  might 
reach  its  convent  before  the  first  matins.  Fatigue  was  not 
felt  by  Bruce  when  in  pursuit  of  a  great  object,  and  after 
a  slight  refreshment  he  and  his  four  determined  friends  took 
horse. 

As  they  had  anticipated,  the  midnight  bell  was  ringing 
for  prayers  when  the  troop  stopped  at  the  Franciscan  gate. 
Lindsay,  having  been  in  the  Holy  Land  during  the  late  public 
struggles,  alleged  business  with  the  abbot,  and  desired  to 
see  him.  On  the  father's  bidding  the  party  welcome,  Bruce 
stepped  forward  and  addressed  him.  "  Reverend  sir,  I  come 
from  London.  I  have  an  affair  to  settle  with  Lord  Badenoch, 
and  I  know  by  his  letters  to  King  Edward  that  he  is  secretly 
lodged  in  this  convent.  I  therefore  demand  to  be  conducted 


SCOTLAND.  —  DUMFRIES.  325 

to  him."  This  peremptory  requisition,  with  the  superior  air 
of  the  person  who  made  it,  did  not  leave  the  abbot  room  to 
doubt  that  he  was  some  illustrious  messenger  from  the  King 
of  England,  and,  with  hardly  a  demur,  he  left  the  other 
knights  in  the  cloisters  of  the  church,  while  he  led  the  noble 
Southron,  as  he  thought,  to  his  kinsman. 

The  treacherous  regent  had  just  retired  from  the  refectory 
to  his  own  apartment  as  the  abbot  conducted  the  stranger 
into  his  presence.  Badenoch  started  frowningly  from  his  seat 
at  such  unusual  intrusion.  Brace's  visor  was  closed,  and  the 
ecclesiastic,  perceiving  the  regent's  displeasure,  dispersed  it 
by  announcing  the  visitant  as  a  messenger  from  King  Ed- 
ward. "  Then  leave  us  together,"  returned  he,  unwilling  that 
even  this,  his  convenient  kinsman,  should  know  the  extent  of 
his  treason  against  his  country.  The  abbot  had  hardly  closed 
the  door,  when  Bruce,  whose  indignant  soul  burned  to  utter 
his  full  contempt  of  the  wretch  before  him,  hastily  advanced 
to  speak,  but  the  cautious  Badenoch,  fearful  that  the  father 
might  yet  be  within  hearing,  put  his  finger  to  his  lips.  Bruce 
paused  and  listened  gloomily  to  the  departing  steps  of  the 
abbot.  When  they  were  no  more  heard,  with  one  hand  rais- 
ing his  visor  and  the  other  grasping  the  scroll  of  detection, 
"Thus,  basest  of  the  base  race  of  Cummin,"  exclaimed  he, 
"  you  may  for  a  moment  elude  the  universal  shame  which 
awaits  your  crimes." 

At  sight  of  the  face,  on  hearing  the  words  of  Bruce,  the  un- 
manly coward  uttered  a  cry  of  terror  and  rushed  towards  the 
door.  "  You  pass  not  here,"  continued  the  prince, "  till  I  have 
laid  open  all  your  guilt ;  till  I  have  pronounced  on  you  the 
doom  due  to  a  treacherous  friend  and  a  traitorous  subject." — 
u  Infatuated  Bruce  !  "  exclaimed  Badenoch,  assuming  an  air  of 
insulted  friendship,  now  that  he  found  escape  impossible, 
"  what  false  tongue  has  persuaded  you  to  arraign  one  who  has 
ever  been  but  too  faithfully  the  adherent  of  your  desperate 
fortunes  ?  I  have  labored  in  secret  day  and  night  in  your  ser- 
vice, and  thus  am  I  repaid." 

Bruce  smiled  disdainfully  at  this  poor  attempt  to  deceive 
him,  and,  as  he  stood  with  his  back  against  the  door,  he  opened 
the  murderous  packet  and  read  from  it  all  its  contents. 
Cummin  turned  pale  and  red  at  each  sentence ;  and  at  last, 
Bruce  closing  it,  "Now,  then,  faithful  adherent  of  Kobert 
Bruce,"  cried  he,  "  say  what  the  man  deserves  who  in  these 
blood-red  lines  petitions  the  death  of  his  lawful  prince  ?  Oh, 
thou  arch-regicide  !  Doth  not  my  very  look  kill  thee  ?  " 


326  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

Badenoch,  his  complexion  turning  of  a  livid  hue,  and  his 
yoice  faltering, 'attempted  to  deny  the  letter  having  been  his 
handwriting,  or  that  he  had  any  concern  in  the  former  embassy 
to  Edward.  Then,  finding  that  these  falsehoods  only  irritated 
Bruce  to  higher  indignation,  and  fearful  of  being  immediately 
sacrificed  to  his  just  resentment,  he  threw  himself  on  his 
knees,  and  confessing  each  transaction,  implored  his  life  in 
pity  to  the  natural  desire  of  self-preservation,  which  alone  had 
precipitated  him  to  so  ungrateful  a  proceeding.  "  Oh,"  added 
he,  "even  this  danger  I  have  incurred  upon  your  account. 
For  your  ultimate  advantage  did  I  bring  on  my  head  the  perils 
which  now  fill  me  with  dismay.  Love  alone  for  you  made  me 
hasten  the  execution  of  William  Wallace,  that  insidious  friend, 
who  would  have  crept  from  your  bosom  into  your  throne. 
And  then,  fear  of  your  mistaking  the  motives  of  so  good  a 
service,  betrayed  me  to  throw  myself  into  the  arms  of 
Edward." 

"  Bury  thyself  and  crimes,  thou  foulest  traitor,  deep  in  the 
depths  of  hell ! "  cried  the  prince,  starting  away  with  a  tre- 
mendous gesture.  "Out  of  my  sight  forever,  that  I  may  not 
pollute  these  hands  with  thy  monstrous  blood ! "  Till  this 
moment  Bruce  was  ignorant  that  Badenoch  had  been  an  in- 
stigator in  the  murder  of  Wallace,  and  forgetting  his  own  per- 
sonal wrongs  in  this  more  mighty  injury,  with  tumultuous 
horror  he  turned  from  the  coward  to  avoid  the  self -blame  of 
stabbing  an  unarmed  wretch  at  his  feet.  But  at  that  moment, 
Cummin,  who  believed  his  doom  only  suspended,  rose  from  his 
knee,  and  drawing  his  dirk  from  under  his  plaid  struck  it  into 
the  back  of  the  prince.  Bruce  turned  on  him  with  the  quick- 
ness of  thought.  "  Hah  ! "  exclaimed  he,  seizing  him  by  the 
throat,  "then  take  thy  fate.  This  accursed  deed  hath  re- 
moved the  only  barrier  between  vengeance  and  thee  ;  thus,  re- 
member William  Wallace."  As  the  prince  spoke  he  plunged  his 
dagger  into  the  breast  of  the  traitor.  Cummin  uttered  a  fear- 
ful cry,  and  rolled  down  at  his  feet,  murmuring  imprecations. 

Bruce  fled  from  the  spot.  It  was  the  first  time  his  arm 
had  drawn  blood,  except  in  the  field  of  battle,  and  he  felt  as  if 
the  base  tide  had  contaminated  his  hand.  In  the  cloisters  he 
was  encountered  by  his  friends.  A  few  words  informed  them 
of  what  had  happened.  "  Is  he  dead  ? "  inquired  Kirk- 
patrick.  —  "I  can  hardly  doubt,"  answered  Bruce.  "  Such  a 
matter,"  returned  the  veteran,  "  must  not  be  left  to  conjecture : 
I  will  secure  him."  !  And  running  forward  he  found  the 

1  In  memory  of  this  circumstance,  the  crest  of  the  family  of  Kirkpatrick  is  a  hand 
grasping  a  dagger,  distilling  gouts  of  blood;  the  motto,  "  I  mak  sikkar."  —  (1809.) 


SCOTLAND.  —  DUMFRIES.  327 

vvounded  regent  crawling  from  the  door  of  the  cell.  Throw- 
ing himself  upon  him  without  noise,  he  stabbed  him  to  the 
heart. 

Before  the  catastrophe  was  known  in  the  convent,  Bruce  and 
his  friends  had  left  it  some  time  and  were  far  on  their  road 
to  Lochmaben.  They  arrived  before  sunrise,  and,  once  more 
an  inmate  of  his  paternal  castle,  he  thence  despatched 
Fleming  to  Lord  Ruthven  with  a  transcript  of  his  designs. 

In  the  same  packet  he  enclosed  a  letter  for  the  Lady 
Isabella.  It  contained  this  brave  resolution,  that  in  his 
present  return  to  Scotland  he  did  not  consider  himself  merely 
as  Robert  Bruce,  come  to  reclaim  the  throne  of  his  ancestors, 
but  as  the  executor  of  the  last  and  dying  will  of  Sir  William 
Wallace,  which  was  that  Bruce  should  confirm  the  inde- 
pendence of  Scotland  or  fall  as  Wallace  had  done,  invincible 
at  his  post.  "  Till  that  freedom  is  accomplished,"  continued 
the  virtuous  prince,  "  I  will  never  shake  the  steadfast  purpose 
of  my  soul  by  even  one  glance  at  thy  life-endearing  beauties. 
I  am  Wallace's  soldier,  Isabella,  as  he  was  Heaven's;  and, 
while  my  captain  looks  011  me  from  above,  shall  I  not  approve 
myself  worthy  his  example  ?  I  wooed  you  as  a  knight,  I  will 
win  you  as  a  king ;  and  on  the  day  when  no  hostile  Southron 
breathes  in  Scotland,  I  will  demand  my  sweetest  reward,  my 
beloved  bride,  of  her  noble  uncle.  You  shall  come  to  me  as 
the  angel  of  peace,  and  in  one  hour  we  will  receive  the  nuptial 
benediction  and  the  vows  of  our  people." 

The  purport  of  the  prince's  letter  to  Ruthven  was  well 
adapted  to  the  strain  of  the  foregoing.  He  then  announced 
his  intention  of  proceeding  immediately  to  the  plain  of  Stir- 
ling, and  there,  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  his  loyal  Scots, 
declare  himself  their  lawful  sovereign,  and  proclaim  to  the 
world  that  he  acknowledged  no  legal  superior  but  the  Great 
Being,  whose  vicegerent  he  was.  From  that  centre  of  his 
kingdom  he  \vould  make  excursions  to  its  farthest  extremities, 
and  with  God's  will  either  drive  his  enemies  from  the  country 
or  perish  with  the  sword  in  his  hand,  as  became  the  descend- 
ant of  William  the  Lion,  as  became  the  friend  of  William 
Wallace. 

Ruthven  lay  encamped  on  the  Carse  of  Gowrie  when  this 
letter  was  delivered  to  him.  He  read  it  aloud  to  his  assembled 
chieftains,  and  with  waving  bonnets  they  hailed  the  approach 
of  their  valiant  prince.  Bothwell  alone,  whose  soul-devoted 
attachment  to  Wallace  could  not  be  superseded  by  any  other 
affection,  allowed  his  bonnet  to  remain  inactive  in  his  hand  j 


328  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

but  with  the  fervor  of  true  loyalty  he  thanked  God  for  thus 
bringing  the  sovereign  whom  his  friend  loved,  to  bind  in  one 
the  contending  interests  of  his  country,  to  wrest  from  the 
hands  of  that  friend's  assassin  the  sceptre  for  which  he  had 
dyed  them  so  deep  in  blood. 


CHAPTER   LXXXVIII. 

STIRLING. 

THE  word  of  Bruce  was  as  irreversible  as  his  spirit  was 
determined.  No  temptation  of  indulgence  could  seduce  him 
from  the  one,  no  mischance  of  adversity  could  subdue  the 
other.  The  standard  of  liberty  had  been  raised  by  him  on  the 
Garse  of  Gowrie,  and  he  carried  it  in  his  victorious  arm  from 
east  to  west,  from  the  most  northern  point  of  Sutherland  to 
the  walls  of  Stirling;  but  there  the  garrison  which  the 
treason  of  the  late  regent  had  admitted  into  that  citadel  gave 
a  momentary  check  to  his  career.  The  English  governor  hesi- 
tated to  surrender  on  the  terms  proposed ;  and  while  his  first 
flag  of  truce  was  yet  in  the  tent  of  the  Scottish  monarch,  a 
second  arrived  to  break  off  the  negotiation.  Whatever  were 
the  reasons  for  this  abrupt  determination,  Bruce  paid  him  not 
the  compliment  of  asking  a  wherefore,  but  advancing  his 
troops  to  the  Southron  outposts,  drove  them  in  with  great  loss, 
and  approaching  the  lower  works  of  the  town  by  the  road  of 
Ballochgeich,  so  alarmed  -the  governor  as  to  induce  him  to 
send  forth  several  squadrons  of  horse  to  stop  his  progress. 
Vain  was  the  attempt.  They  shrank  before  the  resolute  prince 
and  his  enthusiastic  followers.  The  governor  despatched 
others,  and  at  last  marched  out  himself  to  their  support.  No 
force  seemed  able  to  withstand  the  pressing  valor  of  the  Scots. 
The  Southron  saw  himself  in  the  midst  of  his  slain  and 
deserted  by  half  of  his  surviving  troops.  A  surrender,  both 
of  himself  and  his  fainting  companions,  was  now  his  only 
resource.  His  herald  sounded  a  parley.  The  generous  victor, 
in  the  midst  of  triumph,  listened  to  the  offered  capitulation. 
It  was  not  to  include  the  citadel  of  Stirling. 

Bruce  stopped  the  herald  at  this  clause  and  at  once  de- 
manded the  unconditional  surrender  of  both  the  town  and 
citadel.  The  governor,  being  aware  that  in  his  present  state 
there  was  no  alternative,  and  knowing  the  noble  nature  of  the 


STIRLING.  329 

prince  who  made  the  requisition,  yielded  to  necessity,  and 
resigned  the  whole  into  his  hands. 

Next  morning  Bruce  entered  Stirling  as  a  conqueror,  with 
the  whole  of  his  kingdom  at  his  feet,  for  from  the  Solway 
Frith  to  the  Northern  Ocean  no  Scottish  town  nor  castle 
owned  a  foreign  master.  The  acclamations  of  a  rescued 
people  rent  the  skies,  and  while  prayers  and  blessings  poured 
on  him  from  above,  below,  and  around,  he  did  indeed  feel  him- 
self a  king,  and  that  he  had  returned  to  the  land  of  his  fore- 
fathers. While  he  sat  on  his  proud  war-horse,  in  front  of  the 
great  gates  of  the  citadel,  now  thrown  wide  asunder  to  admit 
its  rightful  sovereign,  his  noble  prisoners  came  forward.  They 
bent  their  knees  before  him,  and,  delivering  their  swords, 
received  in  return  his  gracious  assurance  of  mercy.  At  this 
moment  all  Scottish  hearts  and  wishes  seemed  riveted  on  their 
youthful  monarch.  Dismounting  from  his  steed  with  the 
grace  that  took  captive  even  the  souls  of  his  enemies,  he 
raised  his  helmet  from  his  head  as  the  Bishop  of  Dunkeld, 
followed  by  all  the  ecclesiastics  in  the  town,  came  forward  to 
wait  upon  the  triumph  of  their  king. 

The  beautiful  anthem  of  the  virgins  of  Israel,  on  the  con- 
quests of  David,  was  chanted  forth  by  the  nuns,  who,  in  this 
heaven-hallowed  hour,  like  the  spirits  of  the  blest,  revisited 
the  world  to  give  the  chossn  of  their  land  "  All  hail !  "• 

The  words,  the  scene,  smote  the  heart  of  Bothwell;  he 
turned  aside  and  wept.  Where  were  now  the  buoyant  feel- 
ings with  which  he  had  followed  the  similar  triumph  of 
Wallace  into  these  gates  ?  "  Buried,  thou  martyred  hero,  in 
thy  'bloody  grave ! "  New  men  and  new  services  seemed  to 
have  worn  out  remembrance  of  the  past ;  bat  in  the  memories 
of  even  this  joyous  crowd  Wallace  lived,  though  like  a  bright 
light,  which  had  passed  through  their  path  and  was  gone,  never 
more  to  return. 

On  entering  the  citadel,  Bruce  was  informed  by  Mowbray, 
the  English  governor,  that  he  would  find  a  lady  there  in  a 
frightful  state  of  mental  derangement,  and  who  might  need 
his  protection.  A  question  or  two  from  the  victorious  mon- 
arch told  him  this  was  the  Countess  of  Strathearn.  On  the 
revolted  abthanes  having  betrayed  Wallace  and  his  country  to 
England  the  joy  and  ambition  of  the  countess  knew  no  bounds, 
and  hoping  eventually  to  persuade  Edward  to  adjudge  to  her 
the  crown,  she  made  it  apparent  to  the  English  king  how  use- 
ful would  be  her  services  in  Scotland ;  while  with  a  plenary, 
though  secret,  mission  she  took  her  course  through  her  native 


330  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

land  to  discover  who  were  inimical  to  the  foreign  interest  and 
who  likely  to  promote  her  own.  After  this  circuit  she  fixed  her 
mimic  court  at  Stirling,  and  living  there  in  regal  magnificence, 
exercised  the  functions  of  a  vice-queen.  At  this  period  intel- 
ligence arrived  which  the  governor  thought  would  fill  her  with 
exultation,  and  hastening  to  declare  it  he  proclaimed  to  her 
that  the  King  of  England's  authority  was  now  firmly  estab- 
lished in  Scotland,  for  that  on  the  twenty-third  of  August  Sir 
William  Wallace  had  been  executed  in  London,  according  to 
all  the  forms  of  law,  upon  the  Tower-hill. 

On  the  full  declaration  of  this  event  she  fell  senseless  on  the 
floor.  It  was  not  until  the  next  morning  that  she  recovered 
to  perfect  animation,  and  then  her  ravings  were  horrible  and 
violent.  She  accused  herself  of  the  murder  of  Sir  William 
Wallace.  She  seemed  to  hear  him  upbraid  her  with  his  fate, 
and  her  shrieks  and  tremendous  ejaculations  so  fearfully  pre- 
sented the  scene  of  his  death  before  the  eyes  of  her  attendants 
that  the  women  fled,  and  none  others  of  that  sex  would  after- 
wards venture  to  approach  her.  In  these  fearful  moments  the 
dreadful  confession  of  all  her  premeditated  guilt,  of  her  in- 
furiate and  disappointed  passion  for  Wallace,  and  her  vowed 
revenge,  were  revealed  under  circumstances  so  shocking  that 
the  English  governor  declared  to  the  King  of  Scots  while  he 
conducted  him  towards  her  apartment  that  he  would  rather 
wear  out  his  life  in  a  rayless  dungeon  than  endure  one  hour  of 
her  agonies. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  in  her  chamber  as  they  approached 
the  door.  Mowbray  cautiously  opened  it,  and  discovered  the 
object  of  their  visit.  She  was  seated  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  room  on  the  floor,  enveloped  in  a,  mass  of  scarlet  velvet 
she  had  drawn  off  her  bed ;  her  hands  clasped  her  knees,  and  she 
bent  forward,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  door  at  which  they 
entered.  Her  once  dazzling  beauty  was  now  transformed  to  a 
haggard  glare;  the  terrible  lightning  which  gleamed  on  the 
face  of  Satan  when  he  sat  brooding  on  the  burning  marl  of 
Tartarus. 

She  remained  motionless  as  they  advanced.  But  when 
Bruce  stopped  directly  before  her,  contemplating  with  horror 
the  woman  whom  he  regarded  as  one  of  the  murderers  of  his 
most  beloved  friend,  she  sprang  at  once  upon  him,  and  clinging 
to  him  with  shrieks  buried  her  head  in  his  bosom.  "  Save  me ! 
save  me  ! "  cried  she.  "  Mar  drags  me  down  to  hell ;  I  burn 
there,  and  yet  I  die  not ! "  Then,  bursting  from  Bruce  with 
an  imprecation  that  froze  his  blood,  she  flew  to  the  other  side 


BANNOCKBURN.  331 

of  the  chamber,  crying  aloud,  "  Thou  hast  torn  out  my  heart ! 
Fiend,  I  took  thee  for  Wallace  —  but  I  murdered  him  !  "  Her 
agonies,  her  yells,  and  her  attempts  at  self-violence  were  now 
so  dreadful  that  Bruce,  raising  her,  bleeding,  from  the  hearth 
on  which  she  had  furiously  dashed  her  head,  put  her  into  the 
arms  of  the  men  who  attended  her,  and  then,  with  an  awful 
sense  of  divine  retribution,  left  the  apartment. 


CHAPTER  LXXXIX. 

BANNOCKBURN. 

THE  generality  of  his  prisoners  Bruce  directed  should  be 
kept  safe  in  the  citadel,  but  to  Mowbray  he  gave  his  liberty, 
and  ordered  every  means  to  facilitate  the  commodious  journey 
of  that  brave  knight,  whom  he  had  requested  to  convey  the 
insane  Lady  Strathearn  to  the  protection  of  her  husband. 

Mowbray  accepted  his  freedom  with  gratitude,  and  gladly 
set  forth  with  his  unhappy  charge  to  meet  his  sovereign. 
Expectation  of  Edward's  approach  had  been  the  reason  of  his 
withdrawing  his  herald  from  the  camp  of  Bruce ;  and  though 
the  king  did  not  arrive  in  time  enough  to  save  Stirling,  Mowbray 
yet  hoped  he  might  still  be  continuing  his  promised  march. 
This  anticipation  the  Southron's  loyalty  would  not  allow  him 
to  impart  to  Bruce,  and  he  bade  that  generous  prince  adieu, 
with  the  full  belief  of  soon  returning  to  find  him  the  vanquished 
of  Edward. 

At  the  decline  of  day  Bruce  returned  to  his  camp  to  pass  the 
night  in  the  field  with  his  soldiers,  intending  next  morning  to 
give  his  last  orders  to  the  detachments  which  he  meant  to  send 
out  under  the  command  of  Lennox  and  Douglas  to  disperse 
themselves  over  the  border  counties,  and  there  keep  station 
till  that  peace  should  be  signed  by  England  which  he  was  de- 
termined by  unabated  hostilities  to  compel. 

Having  taken  these  measures  for  the  security  of  his  king- 
dom and  the  establishment  of  his  own  happiness,  he  had  just 
returned  to  his  tent  on  the  banks  of  Bannockburn  when 
G-rimsby,  his  now  faithful  attendant,  conducted  an  armed 
knight  into  his  presence.  The  light  of  the  lamp  which  stood 
on  the  table  streaming  full  on  the  face  of  the  stranger  dis- 
covered to  the  king  his  English  friend,  the  intrepid  Mont- 
gomery. With  an  exclamation  of  glad  surprise  Bruce  would 


332  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

have  clasped  him  in  his  arms,  but  Montgomery,  dropping  on 
his  knee,  exclaimed,  "  Receive  a  subject,  as  well  as  a  friend, 
victorious  and  virtuous  prince  !  I  have  forsworn  the  vassalage 
of  the  Plantagenets,  and  thus,  without  title  or  land,  with  only 
a  faithful  heart,  Gilbert  Hambledon  comes  to  vow  himself 
yours  and  Scotland's  forever." 

Bruce  raised  him  from  the  ground,  and,  welcoming  him  with 
the  warm  embrace  of  friendship,  inquired  the  cause  of  so  ex- 
traordinary an  abjuration  of  his  legal  sovereign.  "  No  light 
matter,"  observed  the  king,  "  could  have  so  wrought  upon  my 
noble  Montgomery." 

"  Montgomery  no  more  ! "  replied  the  earl  with  indignant 
eagerness.  "  When  I  threw  the  insignia  of  my  earldom  at  the 
feet  of  the  unjust  Edward,  I  told  him  that  I  would  lay  the  saw 
to  the  root  of  the  nobility  I  had  derived  from  his  house,  and 
cut  it  through  ;  that  I  would  sooner  leave  my  posterity  with- 
out titles  and  without  wealth  than  deprive  them  of  real 
honor.1  I  have  done  as  I  said.  And  yet  J  come  not  without 
a  treasure ;  for  tho  sacred  corse  of  William  Wallace  is  now  in 
my  bark,  floating  on  the  waves  of  the  Forth." 

The  subjugation  of  England  would  hardly  have  been  so 
welcome  to  Bruce  as  this  intelligence.  He  received  it  with  an 
eloquent,  though  unutterable,  look  of  gratitude.  Hambledon 
continued :  "  On  the  tyrant  summoning  the  peers  of  England 
to  follow  him  to  the  destruction  of  Scotland,  Gloucester  got 
excused  under  a  plea  of  illness,  and  I  could  not  but  show  a 
disinclination  to  obey.  This  occasioned  some  remarks  from 
Edward  respecting  my  known  attachment  to  the  Scottish 
cause,  and  they  were  so  couched  as  to  draw  from  me  this 
honest  answer :  l  My  heart  would  not,  for  the  wealth  of  the 
world,  permit  me  to  join  in  the  projected  invasion,  since  I  had 
seen  the  spot  in  my  own  country  where  a  most  inordinate 
ambition  had  cut  down  the  flower  of  all  knighthood,  because 
he  was  a  Scot  who  would  not  sell  his  birthright.  The  king 
left  me  in  wrath  and  threatened  to  make  me  recant  my  words. 
I  as  proudly  declared  I  would  maintain  them.  Next  morning, 
being  in  waiting  on  the  prince,  I  entered  his  chamber,  and 
found  John  le  de  Spencer  (the  coward  who  so  basely  insulted 
Wallace  on  the  day  of  his  condemnation)  ;  he  was  sitting  with 
his  highness.  On  my  offering  the  services  due  from  my  office, 
this  worthless  minion  turned  on  me  and  accused  me  of  having 
declined  joining  the  army  for  the  sole  purpose  of  executing 

1  This  event  is  perpetuated  in  the  crest  of  the  noble  family  of  Hamilton,  of  Scotland 
- (1809.) 


BANNOCKBURN.  333 

some  plot  in  London,  devised  between  me  and  my  Scottish 
partisans  for  the  subversion  of  the  English  monarchy.  I 
denied  the  charge.  He  enforced  it  with  oaths,  and  I  spurned 
his  allegations.  The  prince,  who  believed  him,  furiously  gave 
me  the  lie,  and  commanded  me,  as  a  traitor,  to  leave  his 
presence.  I  refused  to  stir  an  inch  till  I  had  made  the  base 
heart  of  Le  de  Spencer  retract  his  falsehood.  The  coward 
took  courage  on  his  master's  support,  and,  drawing  his  sword 
upon  me,  threatened  to  compel  my  departure.  He  struck  me 
on  the  face  with  his  weapon.  The  arms  of  his  prince  could 
not  then  save  him ;  I  thrust  him  through  the  body,  and  he  fell. 
Edward  ran  on  me  with  his  dagger,  but  I  wrested  it  from  him. 
Then  it  was  that,  in  reply  to  his  menaces,  I  revoked  my 
fealty  to  a  sovereign  I  abhorred,  a  prince  I  despised.  Leaving 
his  presence  before  the  fluctuations  of  so  versatile  a  mind 
could  fix  upon  seizing  me,  I  hastened  to  Highgate  to  convey 
away  the  body  of  our  friend  from  its  brief  sanctuary.  The 
same  night  I  embarked  it  and  myself  on  board  a  ship  of  my 
own,  and  am  now  at  your  feet,  brave  and  just  king,  no  longer 
Montgomery,  but  a  true  Scot,  in  heart  and  loyalty." 

"  And  as  a  kinsman,  generous  Hambledon,"  returned  Bruce, 
"I  receive,  and  will  portion  thee.  My  paternal  lands  of 
Cadzow,  on  the  Clyde,  shall  be  thine  forever.  And  may  thy 
posterity  be  as  worthy  of  the  inheritance  as  their  ancestor  is 
of  all  my  love  and  confidence !  " x 

Hambledon,  having  received  his  new  sovereign's  directions 
concerning  the  disembarkation  of  those  sacred  remains,  which 
the  young  king  declared  he  should  welcome  as  the  pledge  of 
Heaven  to  bless  his  victories  with  peace,  returned  to  the 
haven  where  Wallace  rested  in  that  sleep  which  even  the 
voice  of  friendship  could  not  disturb. 

At  the  hour  of  the  midnight  watch  the  trumpets  of  ap- 
proaching heralds  resounded  without  the  camp.  Bruce 
hastened  to  the  council-tent  to  receive  the  now  anticipated 
tidings.  The  communications  of  Hambledon  had  given  him 
reason  to  expect  another  struggle  for  his  kingdom,  and  the 
message  of  the  trumpets  declared  it  might  be  a  mortal  one. 

At  the  head  of  a  hundred  thousand  men  Edward  had  forced 
a  rapid  passage  through  the  lowlands,  and  was  now  within  a 
few  hours'  march  of  Stirling,  fully  determined  to  bury  Scot- 

1  These  circumstances,  relating  to  the  first  establishment  of  the  noble  family  of  Ham- 
ilton (by  the  old  historians,  called  Hampton,  or  Hameldon),  in  Scotland,  are  particularly 
recorded.  The  lands  of  Cadzow  are  now  called  Hamilton,  from  their  owners,  earls 
and  dukes  of  that  name.  The  crest  of  the  family  arms  is  a  tree  with  a  saw  in  it,  and  the 
motto,  "  Through."  —  (1808.; 


334  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

land  under  her  own  slain,  or  by  one  decisive  blow  restore  her 
to  Ms  empire. 

When  this  was  uttered  by  the  English  herald,  Bruce  turned 
to  Ruthven  with  an  heroic  smile :  "  Let  him  come,  my  brave 
barons,  and  he  shall  find  that  Bannockburn  shall  page  with 
Cambus-Kenneth." 

The  strength  of  the  Scottish  army  did  not  amount  to  more 
than  thirty  thousand  men  against  this  host  of  Southrons. 
But  the  relics  of  Wallace  were  there.  His  spirit  glowed  in 
the  heart  of  Bruce.  The  young  monarch  lost  not  the  advan- 
tage of  choosing  his  ground  first,  and  therefore  as  his  power 
was  deficient  in  cavalry,  he  so  took  his  field  as  to  compel  the 
enemy  to  make  it  a  battle  of  infantry  alone. 

To  protect  his  exposed  flank  from  the  innumerable  squadrons 
of  Edward,  he  dug  deep  and  wide  pits  near  to  Bannockburn, 
and  having  overlaid  their  mouths  with  turf  and  brushwood, 
proceeded  to  marshal  his  little  phalanx  on  the  shore  of  that 
brook  till  his  front  stretched  to  St.  Ninian's  monastery. 

The  centre  was  led  by  Lord  Ruthven  and  Walter  Stewart ; 
the  right  owned  the  valiant  leading  of  Douglas  and  Eamsay, 
supported  by  the  brave  young  Gordon  with  all  his  clan ;  and 
the  left  was  put  in  charge  of  Lennox,  with  Sir  Thomas  Ran- 
dolph, a  crusade  chieftain,  who,  like  Lindsay  and  others,  had 
lately  returned  from  distant  lands,  and  now  zealously  embraced 
the  cause  of  his  country. 

Bruce  stationed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  reserve;  with 
him  were  the  veterans  Loch-awe  and  Kirkpatrick,  and  Lord 
Bothwell,  with  the  true  De  Longueville  and  the  men  of 
Lanark,  —  all  determined  to  make  this  division  the  stay  of  their 
little  army,  or  the  last  sacrifice  for  Scottish  liberty  and  its 
martyred  champion's  corse.  There  stood  the  sable  hearse  of 
Wallace,  and  the  royal  standard,  struck  deep  into  the  native 
rock  of  the  ground,  waved  its  .blood-red  volumes  over  his  sacred 
head. 

"By  that  Heaven-sent  palladium  of  our  freedom,"  cried 
Bruce,  pointing  to  the  bier,  "  we  must  this  day  stand  or  fall ! 
He  who  deserts  it  murders  William  Wallace  anew ! " 

At  this  appeal  the  chiefs  of  each  battalion  assembled 
round  the  hallowed  spot,  and  laying  their  hands  on  the  pall, 
swore  to  fill  up  one  grave  with  their  dauntless  Wallace  rather 
than  yield  the  ground  which  he  had  rendered  doubly  precious 
by  having  made  it  the  scene  and  the  guerdon  of  his  invincible 
deeds.  When  Kirkpatrick  approached  the  side  of  his  dead 
chief  he  burst  into  tears,  and  his  sobs  alone  proclaimed  his 


BANNOCKBURN.  335 

participation  in  the  solemnity.  The  vow  spread  to  the  sur- 
rounding legions,  and  was  echoed,  with  mingled  cries  and 
acclamations,  from  the  farthest  ranks. 

"  My  leader  in  death  as  in  life  !  "  exclaimed  Bruce,  clasping 
his  friend's  sable  shroud  to  his  heart.  "  Thy  pale  corse  shall 
again  redeem  the  country  which  cast  thee,  living,  amongst 
devouring  lions.  Its  presence  shall  fight  and  conquer  for  thy 
friend  and  king." 

Before  the  chiefs  turned  to  resume  their  martial  stations, 
the  Abbot  of  Inchaffray  drew  near  with  the  mysterious  iron 
box  which  Douglas  had  caused  to  be  brought  from  St.  Fillan's 
priory.  On  presenting  it  to  the  young  monarch  he  repeated 
the  prohibition  which  had  been  given  with  it,  and  added, 
"  Since  then  these  canonized  relics  (for  none  can  doubt  they 
are  so)  have  found  protection  under  the  no  less  holy  arm  of 
St.  Fillan ;  he  now  delivers  them  to  your  youthful  majesty  to 
penetrate  their  secret,  and  to  nerve  your  mind  with  redoubled 
trust  in  the  saintly  host." 

"  The  saints  are  to  be  honored,  reverend  father,  and  on  that 
principle  I  shall  not  invade  their  mysteries  till  the  God  in 
whom  alone  I. trust  marks  me  with  more  than  the  name  of 
king,  till,  by  a  decisive  victory,  he  establishes  me  the  approved 
champion  of  my  country ;  the  worthy  successor  of  him  before 
whose  mortal  body  and  immortal  spirit  I  now  emulate  his 
deeds.  But  as  a  memorial  that  the  host  of  heaven  do  indeed 
lean  from  their  bright  abodes  to  wish  well  to  this  day,  let 
these  holy  relics  repose  with  those  of  the  brave  till  the  issue 
of  the  battle."  • 

Bruce,  having  placed  his  array,  disposed  the  supernumeraries 
of  his  army,  the  families  of  his  soldiers,  and  other  apparently 
useless  followers  of  the  camp,  in  the  rear  of  an  adjoining  hill. 

By  daybreak  the  whole  of  the  Southron  army  came  in  view. 
The  van,  consisting  of  archers  and  men  at  arms,  displayed  the 
banner  of -Earl  de  Warenne;  the  main  body  was  led  on  by 
Edward  himself,  supported  by  a  train  of  his  most  redoubted 
generals.  As  they  approached,  the  Bishop  of  Dunkeld  stood 
on  the  face  of  the  opposite  hill,  between  the  abbots  of  Cambus- 
Kenneth  and  Inchaffray,  celebrating  Mass  in  the  sight  of  the 
opposing  armies.  He  passed  along  in  front  of  the  Scottish 
lines  barefoot,  with  the  crucifix  in  his  hand  j  and  in  a  few  but 
forceful  words  exhorted  them  by  every  sacred  hope  to  fight 
with  an  tin  receding  step  for  their  rights,  their  king,  and  the 
corse  of  William  Wallace.  At  this  adjuration,  which  seemed 
the  call  of  Heaven  itself,  the  Scots  fell  on  their  knees,  to  confirm 


836  THE    SCOTTISH.  CHIEFS. 

their  resolution  with  a  vow.  The  sudden  humiliation  of  their 
posture  excited  an  instant  triumph  in  the  haughty  mind  of 
Edward,  and  spurring  forward  he  shouted  aloud,  "  They  yield  ! 
They  cry  for  mercy  ! "  — "  They  cry  for  mercy,"  returned 
Percy,  trying  to  withhold  his  majesty,  "  but  not  from  us.  On 
that  ground  on  which  they  kneel  they  will  be  victorious  or  find 
their  graves."  * 

The  king  contemned  this  opinion  of  the  earl,  and,  inwardly 
believing  that  now  Wallace  was  dead  he  need  fear  no  other 
opponent  (for  he  knew  not  that  even  his  cold  remains  were 
risen  in  array  against  him),  he  ordered  his  men  to  charge.  The 
horsemen  to  the  number  of  thirty  thousand  obeyed,  and  rush- 
ing forward  with  the  hope  of  overwhelming  the  Scots  ere  they 
could  rise  from  their  knees,  met  a  different  destiny.  They 
found  destruction  amid  the  trenches  and  on  the  spikes  in  the 
way,  and  with  broken  ranks  and  fearful  confusion  fell  or  fled 
under  the  missive  weapons  which  poured  on  them  from  a 
neighboring  hill.  De  Valence  was  overthrown  and  severely 
wounded,  and,  being  carried  off  the  field,  filled  the  rear  ranks 
with  dismay,  while  the  king's  division  was  struck  with  con- 
sternation at  so  disastrous  a  commencement  of  an  action  in 
which  they  had  promised  themselves  an  easy  victory.  Bruce 
seized  the  moment  of  confusion,  and  seeing  his  little  army  dis- 
tressed by  the  arrows  of  the  English,  he  sent  Bothwell  round 
with  a  resolute  body  of  men  to  drive  those  destroying  archers 
from  the  height  which  they  occupied.  This  was  effected,  and 
Bruce  coming  up  with  his  reserve,  the  battle  in  the  centre 
became  close,  obstinate,  and  decisive.  Many  fell  before  the 
determined  arm  of  the  youthful  king ;  but  it  was  the  fortune 
of  Bothwell  to  encounter  the  false  Monteith  in  the  train  of 
Edward.  The  Scottish  earl  was  then  at  the  head  of  his  in 
trepid  Lanark  men.  "  Fiend  of  the  most  damned  treason," 
cried  he,  "  vengeance  is  come ! "  and  with  an  iron  grasp  throw- 
ing the  traitor  into  the  midst  of  the  faithful  clan,  they  dragged 
him  to  the  hearse  of  their  chief,  and  there,  on  the  skirts  of  its 

i  This  true  description  of  the  leading  facts  of  that  great  Scottish  battle  has  often 
sounded  its  chord  in  many  a  Scottish  heart,  and  in  honor  of  the  accuracy  of  her  painting 
the  author  has  received  many  warm-hearted  testimonies,  even  so  far  as  in  provincial 
theatres,  concert-rooms,  and  on  military  parades  being  saluted  by  the  Scottish  bands 
with  the  old  patriotic  air  of  — 

"  Scots,  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace  bled ! 
Scots,  wha  Bruce  hath  often  led !  "  — 

the  true  pibroch  of  Scotland.  Indeed,  the  stone  in  which  the  standard  of  Bruce  in  the 
battle  of  Bannockburn  was  fixed  is  still  visible;  and  every  narrator  of  the  legends 
connected  with  that  memorable  field  tells  of  the  superstitious  sanctity  attributed  to  the 
iron  box  brought  from  St.  Fillau's.—  (1820.) 


BANNOCKBURN.  337 

pall,  the  wretched  villain  breathed  out  his  treacherous  breath 
under  the  strokes  of  a  hundred  swords.  "  So,"  cried  the 
veteran  Ireland,  "  perish  the  murderers  of  William  Wallace  !  " 
—  "  So,"  shouted  the  rest,  "  perish  the  enemies  of  the  bravest, 
the  most  loyal  of  Scots,  the  benefactor  of  his  country  ! " 

At  this  crisis  the  women  and  followers  of  the  Scottish  camp, 
hearing  such  triumphant  exclamations  from  their  friends,  im- 
patiently quitted  their  station  behind  the  hill,  and  ran  to  the 
summit,  waving  their  scarfs  and  plaids  in  exultation  of  the 
supposed  victory.  The  English,  mistaking  these  people  for  a 
new  army,  had  not  power  to  recover  from  the  increasing  con- 
fusion which  had  seized  them  on  King  Edward  himself  receiv- 
ing a  wound,  and,  panic-struck  with  the  sight  of  their  generals 
falling  around  them,  they  flung  down  their  arms  and  fled. 
The  king  narrowly  escaped,  but  being  mounted  on  a  stout  and 
fleet  horse  he  put  him  to  the  speed  and  reached  Dunbar, 
whence  the  young  Earl  of  March,  being  as  much  attached  to 
the  cause  of  England  as  his  father  had  been,  instantly  gave 
him  a  passage  to  England. 

The  Southron  camp  with  all  its  riches  fell  into  the  hands  of 
Bruce.  But  while  his  chieftains  pursued  their  gallant  chase, 
he  turned  his  steps  from  warlike  triumph  to  pay  his  heart's 
honors  to  the  remains  of  the  hero  whose  blood  had  so  often 
bathed  Scotland's  fields  of  victory.  His  vigils  were  again 
beneath  that  sacred  pall,  for  so  long  had  been  the  conflict,  that 
night  closed  in  before  the  last  squadrons  left  the  banks  of 
Bannockburn. 

At  the  dewy  hour  of  morn  Bruce  reappeared  on  the  field. 
His  helmet  was  royally  plumed,  and  the  golden  lion  of  Scot- 
land gleamed  from  under  his  sable  surcoat.  Bothwell  rode  at 
his  side.  The  troops  he  had  retained  from  the  pursuit  were 
drawn  out  in  array.  In  a  brief  address  he  unfolded  to  them  the 
solemn  duty  to  which  he  had  called  them,  —  to  see  the  bosom 
of  their  native  land  receive  the  remains  of  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace. "  He  gave  to  you  your  homes  and  your  liberty ;  grant, 
then,  a  grave,  the  peace  of  the  tomb,  to  him  whom  some 
amongst  you  repaid  with  treachery  and  death." 

At  these  words  a  cry,  as  if  they  beheld  their  betrayed  chief 
slain  before  them,  issued  from,  every  heart. 

The  news  had  spread  to  the  town,  and  with  tears  and  lamen- 
tations a  vast  crowd  collected  round  the  royal  troop.  Bruce 
ordered  his  bards  to  raise  the  sad  coronach,  and  the  march 
commenced  towards  the  open  tent  that  canopied  the  sacred 
remains.  The  whole  train  followed  in  speechless  woe,  as  if 

VOL.  II. -22 


338  THE    SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

each,  individual  had  lost  his  dearest  relative.  Having  passed 
the  wood,  they  came  in  view  of  the  black  hearse  which  con- 
tained all  that  now  remained  of  him  who  had  so  lately  crossed 
these  precincts  in  all  the  panoply  of  triumphant  war,  in  all 
the  graciousness  of  peace  and  love  to  man.  The  soldiers,  the 
people,  rushed  forward,  and  precipitating  themselves  before 
the  bier  implored  a  pardon  for  their  ungrateful  country.  They 
adjured  him  by  every  tender  name  of  father,  benefactor,  and 
friend;  and  in  such  a  sacred  presence,  forgetting  that  their 
king  was  by,  gave  way  to  grief,  which  most  eloquently  told  the 
young  monarch  that  he  who  would  be  respected  after  William 
Wallace  must  not  only  possess  his  power  and  valor,  but  imitate 
his  virtues. 

Scrymgeour,  who  had  well  remembered  his  promise  to  Wal- 
lace 011  the  battlements  of  Dumbarton,  with  a  holy  reference  to 
that  vow,  now  laid  the  standard  of  Scotland  upon  the  pall. 
Hambledon  placed  on  it  the  sword  and  helmet  of  the  sacrificed 
hero.  Bruce  observed  all  in  silence.  The  sacred  burden  was 
raised.  Uncovering  his  royal  head,  with  his  kingly  purple 
sweeping  in  the  dust,  he  walked  before  the  bier,  shedding 
tears  more  precious  in  the  eyes  of  his  subjects  than  the  oil 
which  was  soon  to  pour  upon  his  brow.  As  he  thus  moved  on, 
he  heard  acclamations  mingle  with  the  voice  of  sorrow. 
"  This  is  our  king,  worthy  to  have  been  the  friend  of  Wal- 
lace, worthy  to  succeed  him  in  the  kingdom  of  our  hearts  ! " 

At  the  gates  of  Cambus-Kenneth  the  venerable  abbot  ap- 
peared at  the  head  of  his  religious  brethren,  but,  without 
uttering  the  grief  that  shook  his  aged  frame,  he  raised  the 
golden  crucifix  over  the  head  of  the  bier,  and  after  leaning  his 
face  for  a  few  minutes  on  it,  preceded  the  procession  into  the 
church.  None  but  the  soldiers  entered.  The  people  remained 
without,  and  as  the  doors  closed  they  fell  on  the  pavement, 
weeping,  as  if  the  living  Wallace  had  again  been  torn  from 
them. 

On  the  steps  of  the  altar  the  bier  rested.  The  Bishop  of 
Dimkeld,  in  his  pontifical  robes,  received  the  sacred  deposit 
with  a  cloud  of  incense,  and  the  pealing  organ,  answered  by 
the  voices  of  the  choristers,  breathed  the  solemn  requiem  of 
the  dead.  The  wreathing  frankincense  parted  its  vapor,  and 
a  wan  but  beautiful  form,  clasping  an  urn  to  her  breast,  ap- 
peared, stretched  on  a  litter,  and  was  borne  towards  the  spot. 
It  was  Helen,  brought  from  the  adjoining  nunnery,  where, 
since  her  return  to  these  once  dear  shores,  now  made  a  desert 
to  her,  she  had  languished  in  the  gradual  decay  of  the  fragile 


BANNOCKBURN.  339 

bonds  which  alone  fettered  her  mourning  spirit,  eager  for  re- 
lease. 

All  night  had  Isabella  watched  by  her  couch,  expecting  that 
each  succeeding  breath  would  be  the  last  her  beloved  sister 
would  draw  in  this  calamitous  world ;  but  as  her  tears  fell  in 
silence  from  her  cheek  upon  the  cold  forehead  of  Helen,  the 
gentle  saint  understood  their  expression,  and  looking  up,  "My 
Isabella,"  said  she,  "  fear  not.  My  Wallace  is  returned.  God 
will  grant  me  life  to  clasp  his  blessed  remains ! " 

Full  of  this  hope  she  was  borne,  almost  a  passing  spirit,  into 
the  chancel  of  Cambus-Kenneth.  Her  veil  was  open,  and  dis- 
covered her  face,  like  one  just  awakened  from  the  dead:  it 
was  ashy  pale,  but  it  bore  a  celestial  brightness,  which,  like 
the  silver  lustre  of  the  moon,  declared  its  approach  to  the  foun- 
tain of  its  glory.  Her  eyes  fell  011  the  bier,  and  with  a  mo- 
mentary strength  she  sprang  from  the  couch,  on  which  she  had 
leaned  in  dying  feebleness,  and  threw  herself  upon  the  coffin. 

There  was  an  awful  pause,  while  Helen  seemed  to  weep. 
But  so  was  not  her  sorrow  to  be  shed.  It  was  locked  within 
the  flood-gates  of  her  heart. 

In  that  suspension  of  the  soul,  when  Bothwell  knelt  on  one 
side  of  the  bier  and  Ruthven  bent  his  knee  on  the  other, 
Bruce  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  weeping  Isabella.  "  Come 
hither,  my  youthful  bride,  and  let  thy  first  duty  be  paid  to  the 
shrine  of  thy  benefactor  and  mine.  So  may  we  live,  sweet 
excellence,  and  so  may  we  die,  if  the  like  may  be  our  meed  of 
heavenly  glory  ! "  Isabella  threw  herself  into  his  arms  and 
wept  aloud.  Helen,  slowly  raising  her  head  at  these  words, 
regarded  her  sister  with  a  look  of  awful  tenderness,  then  turn- 
ing her  eyes  back  upon  the  coffin,  gazed  on  it  as  if  they  would 
have  pierced  its  confines,  and  clasping  the  urn  earnestly  to  her 
heart,  she  exclaimed,  "  'T  is  come  !  the  promise  —  Thy  bridal 
bed  shall  be  William  Wallace's  grave  I " 

Bruce  and  Isabella,  not  aware  that  she  repeated  words  which 
Wallace  had  said  to  her,  turned  to  her  with  portentous  emo- 
tion. She  understood  the  terrified  glance  of  her  sister,  and 
with  a  smile  which  spoke  her  kindred  to  the  soul  she  was 
panting  to  rejoin,  she  answered,  "  I  speak  of  my  own  espou- 
sals. But  ere  that  moment  is  —  and  I  feel  it  near —  let  my 
Wallace's  hallowed  presence  bless  your  nuptials.  Thou  wilt 
breathe  thy  benediction  through  my  lips,'7  added  she,  laying 
her  hand  on  the  coffin  and  looking  down  on  it  as  if  she  were 
conversing  with  its  inhabitant. 

"  Oh,  no,  no ! "  returned  Isabella,  throwing  herself  on  her 


340  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

knees  before  the  almost  unembodied  aspect  of  her  sister.  "  Let 
me  ever  be  the  sharer  of  your  cell,  or  take  me  with  you  to  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  !  " 

"  It  is  thy  sister's  spirit  that  speaks,"  cried  Dunkeld,  ob- 
serving the  awe  which  not  only  shook  the  tender  frame  of 
Isabella,  but  had  communicated  itself  to  Bruce,  who  stood  in 
heart-struck  veneration  before  the  yet  unascended  angel; 
"holy  inspiration,"  continued  the  bishop,  "beams  from  her 
eyes,  and  as  ye  hope  for  further  blessings  obey  its  dictates." 
*  Isabella  bowed  her  head  in  acquiescence.  As  Bruce  ap- 
proached to  take  his  part  in  the  sacred  rite,  he  raised  the 
hand  which  lay  on  the  pall  to  his  lips.  The  ceremony  began  ; 
was  finished.  As  the  bridal  notes  resounded  from  the  organ, 
and  the  royal  pair  rose  from  their  knees,  Helen  held  her 
trembling  hands  over  them.  She  gaspel  for  breath,  and 
would  have  sunk  without  a  word  had  not  Bothwell  supported 
her  shadowy  form  upon  his  breast.  She  looked  round  on  him 
with  a  grateful  though  languid  smile,  ar.d  with  a  strong  effort 
spoke:  "Be  you  blest  in  all  things  as  Wallace  would  have 
blessed  you !  From  his  side  I  pour  out  my  soul  upon  you,  my 
sister  —  my  being ;  and  with  its  inward-breathed  prayers  to  the 
Giver  of  all  good  for  your  eternal  happiness,  I  turn  in  holy 
faith  to  my  long-looked-for  rest." 

Bruce  and  Isabella  wept  in  each  other's  arm.  Helen  slid 
gently  from  the  bosom  of  Bothwell,  prostrate  on  the  coffin,  and 
uttering,  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  waited  only  for  this  !  — We  have  met  — 
I  unite  thy  noble  heart  to  thee  again  —  I  claim  my  brother  — 
at  our  Father's  hands  —  in  mercy  —  in  love  —  by  his  all-blessed 
Son ! "  Her  voice  gradually  faded  away  as  she  murmured 
these  broken  sentences,  which  none  but  the  close  and  attentive 
ear  of  Bothwell  heard.  But  he  caught  not  the  triumphant 
exclamation  of  her  soul,  which  spoke,  though  her  lips  ceased 
to  move,  and  cried  to  the  attending  angels : . "  Death,  where 
is  thy  sting  ?  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  " 

In  this  awful  moment  the  Abbot  of  Inchaffray,  believing  the 
dying  saint  was  prostrate  in  prayer,  laid  his  hand  on  the  iron 
box  which  stood  at  the  foot  of  Wallace's  bier.  "  Before  the 
sacred  remains  of  the  once  champion  of  Scotland,  and  in  the 
presence  of  his  royal  successor,"  exclaimed  the  abbot,  "let 
this  mysterious  coffer  of  St.  Fillan's  be  opened,  to  reward  the 
deliverer  of  Scotland  according  to  its  intent."  —  "  If  it  were  to 
contain  the  relics  of  St.  Fillan  himself,"  returned  the  king, 
"  they  could  not  meet  a  holier  bosom  than  this ; "  and  resting 
the  box  on  the  coffin  he  unclasped  the  lock,  and  the  regalia  of 


BANNOCKBURN.  341 

Scotland  was  discovered.  At  this  sight  Bruce  exclaimed,  in 
an  agony  of  grateful  emotion,  "  Thus  did  this  truest  of  human 
beings  protect  my  rights  even  while  the  people  I  had  deserted, 
and  whom  he  had  saved,  knelt  to  him  to  wear  them  all." 

"  And  thus  Wallace  crowns  thee  ! "  said  Dunk  eld,  taking  the 
diadem  from  its  coffer  and  setting  it  on  Bruce's  head. 

"My  husband  and  my  king!"  gently  exclaimed  Isabella, 
sinking  on  her  knee  before  him  and  clasping  his  hand  to  her 
lips. 

"Hearest  thou  that,  my  beloved  Helen?"  cried  Both  well, 
touching  the  clasped  hands  which  rested  on  the  coffin.  He 
turned  pale  and  looked  on  Bruce.  Bruce,  in  the  glad  moment 
of  his  joy  at  this  happy  consummation  of  so  many  years  of 
blood,  observed  not  his  glance,  but,  in  exulting  accents,  ex- 
claimed, "  Look  up,  my  sister,  and  let  thy  soul,  discoursing 
with  our  Wallace,  tell  him  that  Scotland  is  free,  and  Bruce  a 
king  indeed  ! " 

She  spoke  not,  she  moved  not.  Bothwell  raised  her  clay- 
cold  face.  "  That  soul  has  fled,  my  lord,"  said  he ;  "  but  from 
yon  eternal  sphere  they  now,  together,  look  upon  your  joys. 
Here  let  their  bodies  rest,  for  i  they  loved  in  their  lives,  and 
in  their  deaths  they  shall  not  be  divided.7 " 

Before  the  renewing  of  the  moon  whose  waning  light  wit- 
nessed their  solemn  obsequies,  the  aim  of  Wallace's  life,  the 
object  of  Helen's  prayers,  was  accomplished.  Peace  reigned 
in  Scotland.  The  discomfited  King  Edward  died  of  chagrin 
at  Carlisle,  and  his  humbled  son  and  successor  sent  to  offer 
such  honorable  terms  of  pacification,  that  Bruce  gave  them 
acceptance,  and  a  lasting  tranquillity  spread  prosperity  and 
happiness  throughout  the  land. 


APPENDIX. 


Remember  this,  and  show  yourselves  to  be  men.  Kemember  the 
former  things  of  old,  for  I  am  God ;  declaring  the  end  from  the  begin- 
ning. My  counsel  shall  stand,  and  I  will  do  all  with  pleasure.  Hearken 
unto  me,  ye  stout-hearted,  that  are  far  from  righteousness.  I  bring  near 
my  righteousness,  and  it  shall  not  be  far  off,  and  my  salvation  shall  not 
tarry.  I  will  place  salvation  for  them  who  trust  in  me." —  ISAIAH. 


NOTE  RESPECTING  THE  PERSONAL  CONFORMA- 
TION OF  SIR  WILLIAM  WALLACE  AND  KING 
ROBERT  BRUCE. 

THE  extraordinary  bodily,  as  well  as  mental,  superiority 
which  Wallace  and  Bruce  possessed  over  their  contemporaries 
is  thus  recorded  by  Hector  Boetius  : 

"  About  the  latter  end  of  the  year  1430,  King  James  I.  (of 
Scotland),  on  returning  to  Perth  from  St.  Andrews,  found  his' 
curiosity  excited  to  visit  a  very  old  lady  of  the  house  of 
Erskine,  who  resided  in  the  castle  of  Kinnoul.  In  consequence 
of  her  extreme  old  age  she  had  lost  her  sight,  but  all  her  other 
senses  were  entire,  and  her  body  was  yet  firm  and  active.  She 
had  seen  William  Wallace  and  Robert  Bruce  in  her  earliest 
youth,  and  frequently  told  particulars  of  them.  The  king,  who 
entertained  a  love  and  veneration  for  great  men,  resolved  to 
visit  the  old  lady,  that  he  might  hear  her  describe  the  man- 
ners and  strength  of  the  two  heroes.  He  therefore  sent  a  mes- 
sage acquainting  her  that  he  would  come  to  her  the  next  day. 
When  she  was  told  that  the  king  was  approaching  she  went 
down  into  the  hall  of  her  castle  attended  by  a  train  of  matrons, 
many  of  whom  were  her  own  descendants.  She  advanced  to 
meet  his  majesty  so  easily  and  gracefully  that  he  doubted  her 
being  blind.  At  his  desire  she  embraced  and  kissed  him.  He 
took  her  by  the  hand  and  made  her  sit  down  on  the  seat  next 
him,  and  then  in  a  long  conference  he  interrogated  her  on 
ancient  matters.  Among  others  he  asked  her  to  tell  him  what 

(343) 


344  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

sort  of  a  man  William  Wallace  was ;  what  was  his  personal 
figure ;  what  his  bearing,  and  with  what  degree  of  strength  he 
was  endowed.  He  put  the  same  comparing  questions  to  her 
concerning  Robert  Bruce.  'Robert,''  said  she,  'was  a  man  beau- 
tiful and  of  a  fine  appearance.  His  strength  was  so  great  that  he 
could  easily  have  overcome  any  mortal  man  of  his  time,  save 
one  —  Sir  William  Wallace.  But  in  so  far  as  he  excelled  other 
men,  he  was  excelled  by  Wallace,  both  in  stature  and  in  bodily 
strength.  For  in  wrestling  Wallace  could  have  overthrown  two 
such  men  as  Robert.  And  he  was  comely  as  well  as  strong,  and 
full  of  the  beauty  of  wisdom.'  r' 

I  might  have  thought,  had  I  known  the  above  record  in  my 
young  days,  when  I  heard  my  old  friend  Luckie  Forbes  de- 
scribe the  Scottish  heroes,  that  she  must  have  been  one  of  those 
matrons  of  honor  to  Lady  Kinnoul,  and- had  "seen  baith  the 
stalwarth  chiefs  "  in  her  also  venerable  life.  But  the  de- 
scription of  my  humble  historiographer  was  the  work  of  her 
own  heart,  suggested  there  by  tradition  and  a  holy  reverence 
of  even  the  name  of  William  Wallace  to  help  it  out ;  and  so 
my  pen,  moved  by  the  same  impulse,  has  attempted  to  copy  the 
picture  she  presented.  —  (1809.) 

POSTSCRIPT    TO    THE  ABOVE     APPENDIX,    ADDED  MAY,  1841. 

The  preceding  note  having  been  appended  to  the  first  edi- 
tion of  this  work  at  the  time  of  its  answering  date,  an  extraor- 
dinary circumstance  which  occurred  a  few  years  afterwards 
regarding  certain  portraitures  of  Sir  William  Wallace  and 
Eobert  Bruce,  the  author  of  these  pages  is  tempted  to  repeat 
now,  as  being  a  something  strange  and  romantic  story.  The 
original  relater  of  it  was  Mr.  Blake,  a  young  painter  of  re- 
markable talents,  but  which  were  at  times  carried  away  into 
wild  fancies,  a  mirage  of  waking  dreams,  which  he  gravely 
asserted,  on  describing  them,  were  real  visions  from  the  de- 
parted world.  Soon  after  the  publication  of  the  "  Scottish 
Chiefs,"  his  ardent  nature  had  deeply  interested  him  in  their 
fate,  but  most  particularly  in  that  of  Wallace,  of  whose  unjust 
doom  he  was  often  in  the  habit  of  speaking  to  a  friend  of  the 
author  of  the  book,  and  with  a  force  of  language  and  indigna- 
tion at  the  fact,  as  if  the  noble  victim's  death  had  been  only 
an  event  of  yesterday. 

In  one  of  my  friend's  calls  on  the  young  painter,  he  found 
him  in  an  almost  breathless  ecstasy,  which  he  explained  to  him, 
by  telling  him  that  he  had  just  achieved  two  sketches — one 


APPENDIX.  345 

of  Sir  William  Wallace,  the  other  of  his  enemy,  Edward  the 
First,  both  chiefs  having  actually  appeared  to  him  successively, 
and  had  successively  stood,  at  his  earnest  request,  to  allow 
him  to  make  a  hasty  sketch  of  their  forms. 

While  he  related  this  he  placed  a  small  canvas,  of  the 
common  portrait  size,  on  his  easel,  before  my  friend,  on 
which  was  drawn,  in  a  bold  and  admirable  manner,  the  head 
of  a  young  warrior  in  the  prime  of  his  days,  as  Wallace  is 
described  to  have  been,  even  at  the  time  in  which  he  was  cut 
off.  There  was  neither  helmet  nor  any  covering  on  his  head, 
excepting  the  rich  golden-tinted  light  hair  that  waved  high 
and  loosely  from  off  his  broad  and  very  elevated  forehead. 
The  face  was  nearly  a  front  view,  remarkably  handsome, 
open  in  its  expression,  and  full  of  an  ardent,  generous  courage, 
the  blue  eye  being  bright  and  expanded,  and  the  lips,  of  a 
noble  contour,  seemed  cheering  his  devoted  followers  to  deeds 
of  glory.  All  was  gallant  sunshine  over  that  fine  countenance, 
which,  while  you  looked  on  it,  might  almost  induce  you  to 
believe  the  reality  of  the  vision.  Also  the  high  bearing  of 
its  corresponding  neck  and  chest.  The  first  was  entirely  bare, 
and  the  later  simply  .discovered  a  low  breastplate  of  plain 
workmanship,  half-covered  by  his  plaid,  broached  on  the 
shoulder.  This  was  all  which  was  even  outlined  in  this 
mysterious  portrait.  For  the  painter  told  my  friend,  that, 
having  turned  to  dip  his  pencil  for  a  further  touch,  when  he 
looked  up  again,  the  vision  was  gone.  While  my  friend 
was  contemplating  this  extraordinary  portrait,  its  enraptured 
artist  had  described  its  origin  in  this  wise :  "  He  was  sitting, 
meditating,  as  he  had  often  done,  on  the  heroic  actions  and 
hard  fate  of  the  Scottish  hero,  when,  like  a  flash  of  lightning, 
a  noble  form  stood  before  him  which  he  instantly  knew,  by  a 
something  within  himself,  to  be  Sir  William  Wallace.  He 
felt  it  was  a  spiritual  appearance,  which  might  vanish  away 
as  instantly  as  it  came ;  and,  transported  at  the  sight,  he  be- 
sought the  hero  to  remain  a  few  moments  till  he  might  sketch 
him.  The  warrior  Scot,  in  this  vision,  seemed  as  true  to  his 
historical  mental  picture  as  his  noble  shade  was  to  the  manly 
bearing  of  his  recorded  person ;  for,  with  his  accustomed 
courtesy,  he  smiled  on  the  young  painter,  and  the  sketch 
was  outlined,  with  a  tint  or  two  besides.  But,  while  eagerly 
proceeding,  the  artist  bent  his  head  once  too  often,  to  re- 
plenish his  pencil,  and  turning  again,  to  pursue  the  noble 
contour,  the  spirit  of  the  ( stalwarth  knight '  had  withdrawn 
from  mortal  ken.  But  (Blake .  proceeded  to  say)  it  had  not 


346  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

left  a  vacancy.  Edward  the  First  stood  in  its  place,  armed 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  close  and  superb  suit  of  mail,  but  with 
the  visor  of  his  helmet  open." 

The  artist,  it  appears,  had  as  little  difficulty  in  recognizing 
the  royal  hero  as  when  his  heart,  as  well  as  eyes,  bowing  be- 
fore the  august  figure  just  departed,  told  him  it  was  the  Cale- 
donian patriot  he  beheld.  His  English  loyalty,  however, 
made  him  rise  before  the  royal  apparition.  Nevertheless,  he 
saluted  the  monarch  with  the  same  earnest  privilege  of  en- 
thusiastic genius  which  had  dictated  his  request  to  the 
Scottish  chief,  and  he  asked  the  stern-looking  but  majestic 
warrior-king  of  England  to  allow  him  to  make  a  corresponding 
sketch.  This  too  was  accorded.  And  he  had  arrived  at  about 
the  same  point  as  in  the  former  portrait  when  the  British 
hero  also  disappeared,  and  Blake  was  left,  not  so  disappointed 
at  not  having  accomplished  all  he  wished,  as  enraptured  at 
having  been  permitted  to  behold  two  such  extraordinary  char- 
acters, and  to  have  thus  far  identified  their  personal  presence 
to  himself,  and  to  the  world  —  to  all  posterity.  For  such  was 
his  own  conviction.  The  vast  expense  of  life's  energies 
wrought  in  this  young  man  by  the  over-active  exercise  of  his 
talents,  and  the  burning  enthusiasm  which  almost  ever  over- 
stimulated  their  action,  swiftly  consumed  his  constitution; 
and  not  very  long  after  the  painting  of  these  two  visionary 
portraits  he  died  of  a  rapid  decline.  My  friend  purchased 
them  both,  and  subsequently  showed  them  to  me,  recounting 
the  little  history  I  have  just  repeated.  And  I  confess  I  looked 
upon  them  with  no  small  pleasure,  for  each  bore  a  strong  re- 
semblance to  the  pictures  my  mind  had  before  imbibed  of  both 
heroes  from  all  the  historical  descriptions  I  had  ever  heard  or 
read.  There  is,  however,  a  roughly  visaged  old  head  that  I 
have  often  seen  in  rude  oil-painting,  and  in  equally  rude  en- 
graving, .which  is  pretended  to  be  the  portrait  of  Sir  William 
Wallace.  But  it  does  not  in  any  one  respect  answer  to  the 
historical  or  traditionary  accounts  of  the  knight's  person, 
excepting  that  it  has  part  of  a  coat-of-mail  on  its  breast,  and 
the  usual  tartan  plaid,  which  marks  a  Scottish  warrior  of  any 
age.  But  it  has  two  contradictions  to  attested  facts  which 
completely  disprove  its  authenticity  as  a  likeness  of  that  hero. 
It  is  the  head  of  a  weather-beaten  and  evidently  thick-set 
elderly  man  beyond  fifty  years  of  age  ;  whereas  Wallace  was 
hardly  more  than  thirty  when  he  died  on  the  scaffold.  His 
figure,  too,  was  eminently  tall  and  well-proportioned,  and  his 
hair  was  noted  for  being  "yellow  like  gold."  While  on  the 


APPENDIX.  347 

reverse,  the  beard,  rough,  eyebrows,  and  scant  locks  of  the 
pretended  old  portrait  of  the  hero  are  dark  —  almost  amount- 
ing to  black.  That  it  may  be  a  picture  of  some  distinguished 
personage  of  the  name  of  Wallace  is  very  likely,  from  the 
great  respect  in  which  it  is  even  now  held  in  his  country 
(and  particularlv  by  seamen,  who  have  been  known  to  keep 
the  print  hung  up  in  the  cabin  of  their  little  vessels  by  way  of 
a  talisman  against  storms  or  enemies),  therefore  .1  see  not 
why  the  real  original  of  the  memorial  in  question  may  not 
have  been  some  celebrated  naval  defender  of  the  Scottish  sea 
or  shore  of  the  family  of  William  Wallace,  but  of  a  later 
period  than  himself,  as  the  costume  of  the  portrait  evidently 
appears  of  a  more  modern  date.  —  (1841.) 


NOTE  CONCEENING  JOANNA  OF  MAE  AND 
STEATHEAEN. 

THIS  unhappy  and  wicked  woman's  descendance,  as  daughter 
of  a  princess  of  the  Orkneys,  and  her  husband,  Mellis,  Earl  of 
Strathearn,  is  given  in  all  the  old  Scottish  genealogical  works, 
and  her  marriage  with  Earl  de  Warenne,  followed  up  by  her 
most  unnatural  treasons  against  her  native  country,  are  not  less 
faithfully  recorded.  But  it  is  something  curious,  that  while 
revising  this  volume,  a  few  years  ago,  I  met  a  paragraph  in 
the  "  Morning  'Post  "  newspaper  relative  to  this  very  lady  — 
now  dead  upwards  of  five  hundred  years — and  dated  August 
26,  1831,  almost  the  very  anniversary-day  of  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace's death.  It  was  an  extract  from  the  "Perth  Courier," 
and  runs  thus  : 

"In  preparing  the  foundation  of  the  classical  monument 
which  Lady  Baird  is  about  to  erect  on  Tom-a-Chastel  to  the 
memory  of  Sir  David,  the  workmen  discovered  the  remains 
of  an  extensive  edifice,  intermixed  with  a  blackish  mould,  in 
which  human  bones  frequently  occur,  with  stirrups,  buckles, 
and  other  decayed  fragments  of  ancient  armor.  In  an  exca- 
vation were  found  a  quantity  of  black  earth,  the  debris  of 
animal  matter,  some  human  bones,  a  bracelet,  and  a  consider- 
able portion  of  charcoal,  from  which  it  may  be  concluded  that  the 
individuals  whose  remains  were  discovered,  had  perished  dur- 
ing a  conflagration  of  the  castle.  The  tradition  of  the  country 
is,  that  three  ladies  had  been  there  burnt  to  death.  And  as  it 


348  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

is  known  that  the  Lady  of  Strathearn,  a  daughter  of  the  Earl 
of  Orkney,  involved  herself  in  the  quarrels  between  Bruce  and 
Baliol,  and  was,  after  the  ascendency  of  the  former,  in  a 
parliament  held  at  Scone  in  1329,  doomed  to  perpetual  im- 
prisonment for  the  crime  of  Icesce  majestatis,  it  is  no  violent 
stretch  of  conjecture  to  come  to  the  conclusion  that  this  very 
lady  may  have  been  one  of  the  unhappy  victims  whose  remains 
have  been  thus  accidentally  brought  to  light.  The  excavation, 
undoubtedly  (being  the  most  probable  supposition),  was  that 
usually  found  in  the  base  of  the  dungeon-keep  of  the  castle. 
Tom-a-Chastel,  on  the  summit  of  which  Sir  David  Baird's 
monument  is  to  be  placed,  overlooks  the  whole  strath,  and  is 
even  visible  from  Dundee."  So  far,  the  note  from  the  Perth 
newspaper  (which  was  first  appended  to  this  "almost  veri- 
table romance-biography  of  Sir  William  Wallace,"  in  the 
edition  of  1831),  and  on  comparing  the  circumstances  and 
dates  of  the  period  referred  to,  it  does  not  seem  improbable 
that  such  might  have  been  the  fearful  end  of  that  ambitious 
and  cruelly  impassioned  woman.  Earl  de  Warenne  was  not  a 
man  to  burden  himself  with  cares  for  such  a  partner,  after 
her  treasons  had  become  abortive.  In  the  secret  continuance 
of  which,  most  likely,  she  had  been  discovered  in  some  of  her 
territorial  permitted  visits  to  her  inherited  lands  in  Scotland. 
And  the  relics  of  the  other  two  female  forms  found  in  the 
ashes  may  reasonably  be  supposed  to  have  been  those  of  her 
personal  attendants  sharing  her  captivity. 

The  above  coincidence  of  recollecti9ns  between  the  far  past 
and  the  present  nearly  but  passing  events  may  be  regarded 
as  rather  remarkable;  for  -the  hill  of  Tom-a-Chastel  may 
now  be  looked  upon  as  an  object  recalling  to  memory  two 
heroes,  —  one,  Scotland's  noblest  son,  of  full  five  hundred  ages 
gone ;  the  other,  her  boast  on  the  plains  of  India,  within  our 
own  remembrance.  While  the  same  summit  brings  two  of 
her  daughters,  likewise,  to  eminent  recollection,  —  one  that 
disgraced  her  sex  in  every  relation  of  life;  the  other,  who 
honors  it  in  all.  The  hand  of  the  first  would  have  destroyed 
her  country's  greatest  hero ;  the  hand  of  the  second  raises  a 
tumulus,  to  maintain  the  memory  and  the  example  of  such 
true  sons  of  her  country  in  a  perpetual  existence.  —  (1841.) 


APPENDIX.  349 


THE  SCABF  OF  JAMES  THE  FIFTH  OF  SCOTLAND, 
IN  THE  POSSESSION  OF  DR.  JEFFERSON,  OF 
WEST  LODGE,  CLAPHAM. 

THIS  scarf  belonged  to  and  was  worn  by  the  truly  royal  but 
something  romantically  adventurous  King  of  Scotland,  James 
the  Fifth.  He  was  fond  of  roaming  about  in  his  dominions, 
like  the  celebrated  Haroun-al-Raschid,  in  various  disguises,  to 
see  and  to  observe,  and  to  make  acquaintance  with  his  people 
of  all  degrees,  without  being  known  by  them.  In  one  of  these 
incognito  wanderings,  about  the  year  1533,  he  was  hospitably 
entertained  for  a  night  by  an  ancestor  of  Dr.  Jefferson's  lady, 
a  man  of  liberal  name  in  the  country,  and  who,  unwittingly, 
had  given  most  courteous  bed  and  board  to  his  sovereign 
(then  personally  unknown  to  him)  when  he  thought  he  was 
entertaining  a  person  not  much  above  the  rank  of  the  com- 
monest degree,  it  being  the  monarch's  humor  generally  to 
assume  the  most  ordinary  garb  outwardly,  and  it  therefore 
depended  on  the  tact  of  the  entertainer,  from  his  own  inherent 
nobleness,  to  discern  the  real  quality  of  the  mind  and  manners 
of  his  transitory  guest.  The  host  in  question  did  not  discern 
that  it  was  his  sovereign  he  was  then  treating  like  a  prince  ; 
but  he  felt  it  was  a  visitant,  be  he  whom  he  may,  that  was 
worthy  his  utmost  respect ;  and  the  monarch,  highly  pleased 
with  his  night's  lodging  and  previous  gracious  welcome,  on  his 
departure  next  morning  presented  to  the  lady  of  the  mansion 
a  grateful  tribute  to  her  good  care  in  the  form  of  a  small  par- 
cel rolled  up,  which,  when  opened,  they  found  to  be  a  splendid 
scarf,  indorsed  to  herself  and  lord  in  the  name  of  the  Gudemon 
o' Ballangeich.  All  knew  it  was  then  the  "  generous  and  pleas- 
ant King  of  Scotland  "  who  had  been  their  guest. 

The  Scottish  chief  on  whom  this  beautiful  memorial  of 
received  hospitality  had  been  bestowed  was  John  Burgh,  of 
Burntisland,  in  Fifeshire,  from  whom  the  writer  of  this  note 
literally  traces  the  present  inheritance  of  the  soarf.  John 
Burgh  had  an  only  daughter,  who  married  John  Balfour,  K.N., 
who  also  had  an  only  daughter,  and  she  married  Gilbert  Blair, 
brother  to  Blair,  of  Ard-Blair.  Their  only  son,  James  Blair, 

married  Jane  Morrison,  daughter  of Morrison,  Esq.,  and 

an  heiress  of  the  brave  house  of  Ramsay,  by  which  marriage 
the  ancient  and  honorable  families  of  Burgh,  Blair,  and  Earn- 
say  were  woven  into  one  branch;  and  from  this  branch,  indeed 


350  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

from  the  first  offset  of  its  united  stem,  was  born  of  this  mar- 
riage Margaret  Blair,  who,  dying  in  the  year  1836,  bequeathed 
the  long-cherished  scarf  to  Dr.  Jefferson,  the  worthy  husband 
of  her  beloved  kinswoman,  direct  in  the  line  of  John  Burgh, 
to  whom  it  had  originally  been  given.  And  by  the  above  little 
memorandum  we  see  that  Dr.  Jefferson's  lady  is  only  fifth  in 
descent  from  the  hospitable  chief  of  Burntisland. 

Touching  on  the  above  three  names,  so  justly  respected  in 
Scottish  history  from  the  earliest  times,  and  being  especially 
connected  with  the  era  of  my  "  Scottish  Chiefs/'  I  cannot  for- 
bear dwelling  a  little  more  particularly  on  their  genealogy  to 
the  present  period.  Both  the  Eamsays  and  the  Blairs  were 
conspicuous  adherents  to  the  fates  of  Wallace  and  of  Bruce. 
Anterior  to  the  twelfth  century  the  Blairs  were  established  in 
Ayrshire,  and  thence  spread  themselves  in  brave  settlements, 
as  was  the  uses  of  those  times,  northward  and  southward,  into 
Perthshire,  Fifeshire,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Eske. 

The  Eamsays,  by  a  similar  valiant  course,  found  to  them- 
selves commanding  homesteads  in  the  same  districts,  and  in 
process  of  time,  as  has  been  shown,  mingled  their  "  brave  and 
beautiful "  sons  and  daughters  into  nuptial  bands. 

We  have  heraldic  records  of  these  families  and  their  suc- 
cessive unions  thus  from  respected  authority.  "  The  surname 
of  Blair  (observes  Douglas  in  his  Baronage)  is  of  great 
antiquity  in  Scotland,  and  there  are  two  families  of  the  name 
who  have  long  competed  for  the  chieftainship;  viz.,  Blair 
of  Balthyock,  whose  principal  residence  has  always  been 
in  Fife  or  Perthshire,  and  Blair  of  Blair  (or  that  ilk),  in 
Ayrshire.  The  first  of  the  Blairs  of  Balthyock  we  have  found 
upon  record  was  Alexander  de  Blair,  who  flourished  in  the 
reigns  of  William  the  Lion,  and  his  son,  Alexander  II.,  who  suc- 
ceeded his  royal  father  A.D.  1214.  Here  we  have  the  lineal 
ancestors  of  the  Blairs,  who  drew  their  swords  and  wove 
their  epic  song  to  the  fame  of  their  country  and  of  William 
Wallace.  These  Blairs  intermarried  with  the  lines  of  the 
jRarnsays,  north  and  south.  And  from  the  Blairs  of  Balthyock 
'and  Ard-Blfiir,  Mrs.  Jefferson's  mother,  whose  maiden  name 
was  Margaret  Eamsay,  of  the  family  of  the  present  Sir  James 
Eamsay,  of  Banff  (according  to  the  above-quoted  authority  of 
Douglas),  was  descended  by  a  double  descent,  Sir  Alexander 
Blair  having  married  Helen,  the  sister  of  Sir  William  Eam- 
say, in  1266;  and  Sir  Gilbert  Eamsay  married  Elizabeth, 
daughter  of  Sir  Thomas  Blair,  in  1635.  To  go  back  to  the 
point  of  union  between  the  Blair  and  the  Morrison,  from 


APPENDIX.  351 

whom  Mrs.  Jefferson,  the  heiress  of  the  Royal  scarf,  is 
straightly  descended,  we  find  it  thus:  James  Blair,  the 
great-grandsftn  of  the  hospitable  chief  to  whom  it  was  first 
given,  married  Jane  Morrison,  whose  own  mother  was  a 
Bainsay,  and  of  near  kindred  to  Mrs.  Jefferson's  maternal 
grandfather,  George  Ramsay,  Esq.,  they  having  been  brother's 
children.  This  George  Ramsay  married  a  beautiful  E  iglish- 
woman,  Miss  Doyley,  of  an  ancient  family  in  Buckingham- 
shire. The  memorials  of  this  honorable  parentage  are  not 
the  ostentatious  displays  of  a  vain  blazonry,  but  are  like  the 
bright  elements  of  a  pure  atmosphere.  Turn  to  respire  their 
breath,  and  their  sun  shall  inhale  a  vivifying  principle  of 
active  and  generous  usefulness ;  start  aside,  despising  the 
bland  influence,  the  collected  rays  of  successive  ages,  and 
perversely  seeking  a  course  of  his  own,  anywhere,  and  under 
any  sky ;  and  he  need  not  be  surprised  when,  at  the  termina- 
tion of"  his  unreflecting  career,  he  shall  leave  no  track  behind 
worthy  to  be  followed,  or  to  be  in  any  way  remembered. 

Not  so  was  the  memory  of  the  royal  scarf  I  have  to  de- 
scribe, nor  of  the  noble  race  on  whom  it  was  bestowed ;  and 
I  am  especially  moved  to  note  it,  having  seen  it,  and  been 
gratified  with  a  minute  inspection  of  it  by  its  present  re- 
spected and  deserving  possessors. 

It  is  composed  of  a  rich  and  brilliant  tissue  of  gold  and 
silver  threads,  interwoven  with  silk-embroidered  flowers  in 
their  natural  colors.  They  are  chiefly  pansies,  the  emblems 
of  remembrance;  thistles,  the  old  insignia  of  Scotland;  and 
the  field  daisy,  the  favorite  symbol  of  King  James's  mother, 
the  beautiful  Queen  Margaret.  The  flowers,  entwined  to- 
gether, run  in  stripes  down  the  splendid  web  of  the  scarf, 
which  terminates  at  each  end  with  what  has  been  a  magnifi- 
cent fringe  of  similar  hues  and  brightness.  The  scarf  is  seven 
feet  in  length  by  one  foot  nine  inches  in  width. 

This  interesting  bequest  was  still  further  enriched  to  Dr. 
Jefferson  by  the  addition  of  a  cap  and  gloves,  which  tradition 
says  the  worthy  chief  of  Burntisland  wore  on  his  nuptial  day. 
There  are  also  a  smaller  pair  of  gloves  of  a  more  delicate  size 
and  texture,  appropriated  by  the  same  testimony  to  the  fair 
bride.  But  these  articles  are  supposed  to  have  been  of  earlier 
fabric  than  that  of  the  scarf,  probably  about  the  year  1500, 
and  they  are  of  less  exquisite  manufacture,  the  former  ap- 
pearing to  be  from  the  fine  looms  of  France,  and  the  latter 
wrought  in  the  less  practised  machinery  of  our  then  ruder 
nothern  isle.  The  cap  is  of  a  pale  red  silk  with  gold  cord  and 


352  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

embroidery  down  the  seams,  it  being  formed  to  fit  the  head, 
and  therefore  in  compartments  ;  broad,  where  they  are  inserted 
into  the  rich  fillet-band  round  the  head,  and  narrowing  to  the 
closely  fitting  top.  It  looked  something  like  an  Albanian  cap. 
The  gloves  which  are  said  to  have  been  those  of  the  chief  were 
of  a  brownish  fine  leather,  with  embroidered  gauntlet  tops.  The 
lady's  are  of  a  lighter  hue  and  still  softer  leather,  with  gray 
fringe  of  varied-colored  silk  and  gold,  and  tassels  at  the  wrists. 
Both  these  pairs  of  gloves  were  well  shaped  and  most  neatly 
sewed. 

On  these  relics  of  antiquity  and  of  ancestorial  memorials  de- 
volving on  Dr.  Jefferson,  he  sought  for  a  place  of  deposit  for 
them  suitable  to  their  dignity,  their  character,  and  their  times. 
He  had  in  his  possession  a  curious  old  table  of  the  era  of 
Henry  the  Eighth,  which  he  soon  adapted  to  the  purpose.  Its 
large  oaken  slab  was  of  sufficient  dimensions  to  admit  of  the 
royal  gift  being  spread  in  graceful  folds  over  the  dark  surface 
of  the  wood,  which  the  better  displayed  the  tissue's  inter- 
changing tints,  and  also  gave  room  for  the  disposal  of  the 
cap  and  gloves,  which  were  placed  in  a  kind  of  armorial  crest 
between  its  gauntlets  at  the  head  of  the  scarf,  and  at  its  foot 
was  added  a  beautifully  written  inscription  in  old  emblazoned 
characters  historic  of  the  interesting  relics  above.  The  whole 
is  secured  from  dust  or  other  injury  by  a  covering  of  plate- 
glass  extending  over  the  entire  surface  of  the  table,  which, 
having  a  raised  carved  oak  parapet-border  of  about  four  inches 
high  along  all  its  sides,  forms  a  sort  of  castellated  sanctuary 
that  completely  defends  from  accident  the  glass  and  the  treas- 
ure beneath  it,  which  is  distinctly  seen  through  the  lucid 
medium.  The  shape  of  the  table  is  like  what  we  call  a  sofa- 
table,  but  very  long,  being  five  feet  by  two  and  a  half.  The 
depth  of  its  frieze  altogether  is  eight  inches,  for  it  extends 
four  inches  below  the  four-inch  parapet  above,  and  this  lower 
portion  is  worked  into  a  foliage  enwreathiiig  the  sides.  The 
whole  height  of  the  table  from  the  feet  of  its  four-clawed  ped- 
estal is  three  feet  two  inches.  This  pedestal,  or  rather  branch- 
ing stem  of  polished  oak,  —  being  of  the  sturdy  contour  of  its 
original  growth,  with  its  superb  ramifications  supporting  the 
precious  slab  above,  —  shows  an  elaborate  design  in  its  carv- 
ings far  beyond  my  power  to  describe,  so  luxuriant,  so  various, 
so  intricate,  one  might  almost  suppose  that  the  matchless  tool 
of  the  famous  Benvenuto  Cellini  had  traced  its  wild  and  grace- 
ful grotesque.  The  four  claws,  which  are  like  roots  from  the 
stem  of  the  pedestal,  partake  of  the  same  rich  arabesque  in 
their  design  and  terminate  in  the  form  of  lion's  paws. 


APPENDIX.  353 

But  the  most  striking  part  of  this  noble  pedestal  is  the 
presence  of  four  figures  with  each  its  back  to  the  stem,  roughly 
garbed  men  with  bagpipes  in  their  arms  and  at  their  lips.  At 
the  first  glance  they  appear  to  be  ancient  Highlanders  in  kilt 
and  bonnet,  but  on  looking  closer  they  are  discovered  to  be 
ancient  people  indeed,  but  of  what  country  it  may  not  be  so 
easy  to  determine ;  for  what  seemed  the  Scottish  kilt  is  a 
rough  short  vesture  of  some  animal's  hairy  hide,  while  what- 
ever other  covering  the  figures  have,  which  is  scanty  enough, 
bears  an  equally  wild  and  almost  savage  aspect.  Ancient  Italy, 
as  well  as  ancient  Greece,  exhibited  the  bagpipe.  But  the  coin- 
cidence of  seeing  men  so  habited  and  appended,  on  a  table 
its  owner  had  only  adapted  to  his  interesting  piece  of  Scottish 
antiquity,  could  hardly  lead  to  other  conjecture  on  a  first 
glance  than  that  they  were  the  aborigines  at  least  of  old  Cale- 
donia. 

The  plaids  of  Scotland,  with  their  peculiar  distinguishing 
stripes,  have  been  supposed  to  be  of  Phoenician  origin  ;  and  the 
bagpipe,  too,  has  been  traced  to  that  same  primeval  people. 
The  writer  of  these  notes  intended  to  have  added  some  par- 
ticulars concerning  these  tartans'  history,  as  connected  with 
the  Scottish  clans ;  but  her  Appendix  having  swollen  so  far 
beyond  the  length  she  originally  meditated,  she  resigns  the 
pleasing  task  to,  she  hopes,  some  more  able  pen  hereafter, 
referring  the  eye  of  the  inquirer  into  their  various  bearings, 
to  the  complete  collection  and  fully  satisfactory  explanation 
of  them  to  be  found  at  the  liberal  house  of  Messrs.  Romanes 
&  Paterson,  in  the  city  of  Edinburgh,  who,  above  a  year  ago, 
obliged  her  with  a  gift  of  some  fine  specimens  of  them  all. 


AND  now,  on  the  30th  of  June,  1841,  I  finish  this  Appendix, 
and  close  my  retouching  hand  over  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs " 
perhaps  forever.  I-  now  resign  them  entirely  to  the  world 
and  to  posterity,  like  an  aged  parent  taking  a  last  leave  of  the 
child  of  her  bosom ;  and  of  a  certainty,  while  writing  it,  it  was 
"  most  pleasant  to  me  —  sweet,  though  mournful  to  my  soul." 
But  it  was  not  my  first  work ;  it  followed  that  of  "  Thaddeus 
of  Warsaw,"  which,  of  course,  being,  published  before  its  suc- 
cessor, the  "  Scottish  Chiefs,"  has,  by  due  course  of  time,  re- 
turned to  me  to  date  as  my  own  property  again  a  few  years 
anterior  to  the  similar  return  of  the  "  Scottish  Chiefs  ; "  and, 
as  I  have  now  relaunched  that,  my  second-born  (as  I  may  call 

VOL.  II.— 23 


354  THE    SCOTTISH    CHIEFS. 

it)  into  the  world's  revolving  ocean  of  taste  and  opinions,  yet 
still  ultimately  steered  through  by  the  one  great  star  of  sound 
Christian  principle,  I  feel  a  corresponding  wish  to  give  a 
last  rent  to  my  first-born  also,  and  ere  long  I  hope  to  pass 
my  revising  hand  over  its  pages,  and  then  resign  it  to  a  simi- 
lar relaunching  as  that  of  the  "  Scottish  Chiefs/'7  In  such  a 
case,  "  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  "  may  then  make  its  last  essay, 
under  some  circumstances  particularly  interesting  to  its  au- 
thor, at  least  as  far  as  relates  to  her  own  feelings  with  regard 
to  her  work's  connection  with  their  subject. 

On  its  first  publication  it  was  brought  out  under  the  encour- 
agement of  friendship.  It  was  a  simple  tale  of  true  heroism, 
and  it  appeared  under  the  sanctioning  banner  of  her  most 
revered  friend,  Sir  Sidney  Smith  —  then  "  the  observed  of  all 
observers,"  —  the  just  returned  from  his  ever-memorable  de- 
fence of  St.  Jean  D'Acre,  when  all  England  pressed  to  give 
him  hail,  and  high  and  low  made  acclamation  to  his  well- 
earned  fame.  The  smiles  of  beauty,  the  plaudits  of  patriotic 
virtue,  were  then  a  galaxy  around  him.  Now  the  tears  of  the 
one  and  the  grave  regrets  of  the  other  have  succeeded ;  time 
has  passed  on,  and  the  Hero  of  Acre  is  no  more;  and  also,  now, 
the  author  of  "  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,"  contemplating  the  re- 
publication  of  that  little  tale  of  "  other  days,"  which  in  its 
first  morning,  imbibing  some  of  that  bright  sun's  influence, 
thereafter  lost  not  hold  of  a  sort  of  twilight  abiding  ray,  she 
thinks  it  not  improbable  that  something  like  the  dawn  and  the 
evening  of  her  mind's  destiny  may  again  meet  on  the  same 
point,  with  this  change,  the  fate  of  all  living  having  passed 
between  that  "  dawn  and  evening  "  —  life  and  death  having 
reunited  that  point  into  one  —  she  thinks  it  not  improbable 
that  the  last  edition  of  her  earliest  work  may  meet  the  return 
ing  mortal  remains  of  the  hero  and  friend  under  whose  pro- 
tecting auspices  it  first  met  the  world.  He  was  then  full  of 
life  and  zeal  for  human-kind  and  the  hope  of  all  noble 
achievements,  and  now  he  is  laid  in  his  cold  coffin,  in  a  for- 
eign and  once  long-hostile  land;  but  (and  respected  be  the 
honorable  pledge  given  to  his  country  at  the  close  of  the  just 
expired  session  of  Parliament ! )  those  sacred  relics  are  to  be 
restored  to  England,  and  laid  in  a  tomb  of  honor  in  one  or 
other  of  the  two  great  cathedral  cemeteries  of  our  British 
metropolis. 

Thus  it  indeed  becomes  the  government  of  every  country 
and  the  people  who  compose  its  population  to  uphold  its  de- 
fenders in  life,  and  to  honor  their  remains  when  dead.  Such 


APPENDIX.  355 

memorials  speak  aloud  to  future  generations.  "England, 
while  slie  expects  every  man  born  in  her  dominions  to  DO  HIS 
DUTY,  like  the  God  who  made  the  worlds,  rewardeth  that 
duty  as  if  it  were  a  debt."  How  noble  the  stimulus,  and 
true  to  the  nature  in  which  the  best  of  men  are  formed !  Not 
any  sordid  reward  is  promised  but  that  which  emanates  from 
the  exalted  soul  that  gives,  and  is  ardently  welcomed  by  that 
of  him  by  whom  it  is  received  —  "  Honor  to  whom  honor  is 
due."  Of  the  like  character  and  acceptance  are  the  records  of 
history.  Even  so  that  of  the  epic  song.  The  aim  also  of  the 
biographical  style  of  romance,  to  which  my  pen  hath  ardently, 
though  humbly,  been  devoted  from  its  holder's  "youth  to 
age  ;  "  and  that  its  aim  has  not  been  disappointed  in  the  hearts 
of  many  a  young  aspirant  to  patriotic  glory  and  to  private 
virtue  who  has  read  her  pages  —  chronicling  the  noble  deeds 
of  old  —  is  indeed  a  "setting  sun"  of -gracious  influence  to 
the  declining  days  of 

JANE  PORTER. 

1841. 


FINIS. 


